The moon swayed in the silk sky, stars were embroidered upon it casting down their divine gaze upon the solemn Earth. A small gust of wind blew down the street as people had begun to put out their oil-lamps and retire for the night.
But a single black shadow remained, traversing down the cobblestone path. His long black coat billowed out behind him in the wind, fastening up in double buttons down the middle of his chest. Upon the bridge of his nose he wore a pair of small, silver-rimmed, circular red glasses. His left hand held onto a bouquet of flowers that were concealed behind his back.
His black boots echoed through the lonely night as he walked toward a large mansion, centred in the middle of the market square. He knocked upon the large oak door, “wait a minute!” A frantic voice called from the other side. The door swung open to reveal a flame haired, blue eyed woman wearing a white frilly dress. “You’re here! You finally came!” She swung her arms around his chest, holding him close.
“Miss Van Helsing,” he half bowed awkwardly.
“Please, call me Mary. You’ve known me long enough,” she mused. A smile sprung to his lips as he produced from the darkness the bouquet of red and white roses.
She took them from his hands and ran inside to get a vase of water. Her movements made her seem as if she was gliding, like a swan just about to spread its wings and take to the sky, her curly, flaming hair flying out behind her just like feathers would do, caught on the softest summer breeze. The man stepped into the house, although he had been here a thousand times before, each time seemed like new; like he was meeting Mary all over again.
He scanned his surroundings, the room was lit with candles and oil lamps, that flickered in the slight wind; casting dancing shadows over the walls. That was when he saw it, the picture of his flame haired angel. He ran a finger over the portrait of Mary, tracing the lines of her pale pink lips and looked back in retrospect at the time they had first met.
The first time they met was a night much like this one. The man was just a boy and she was only a girl. He was a servant just finishing his first day, she was an aristocrat. She looked almost holy, her hair bouncing as she descended the stairs, her sapphire eyes full of faith and mercy; her movements just as graceful as they were now. But as he remembered her smile, so bright and heavenly he awoke from his dream. Although he didn’t really want to.
He realised quite a few minutes must have passed because the servants were now leaving. But something didn’t feel right. She should’ve come back by now. A gut feeling told him something was wrong...
He ran into the adjoining room, his coat following. His steps were heavy, full of desperation. He pushed open the door, nearly knocking it off its hinges. “Mary!” He bellowed.
The scene that awaited him inside the cold room was something he didn’t expect, nor want to see. Mary was being cradled in the arms of another man. He had his face close to her neck and she was crying, tears streaming down her face like winding rivers. But the man looked strange; he had straggly hair and a peculiar odour. What was more; he was producing a strange hissing noise.
The creature looked up, obviously hearing the door open. Its eyes glowed crimson, mirroring the colour of blood. “Get off her!” The man screamed, landing a blow at the creature’s chest, which automatically released its grip on her. It gave one last hiss, which almost resembled a mocking laughter before jumping from the window.
Mary lay upon the floor, her ginger hair splayed around her head like a tangled halo. She was still crying, he pushed a single strand of hair from her face and kissed her cheek gently. “Mary. Mary, please, no. Who did this to you? Mary...” Tears began to stream down his cheeks, mixing with hers. The woman smiled, mouthing the words ‘I love you,’ whilst placing a hand onto his cheek, caressing it softly. Her eyes flickered.
“Mary!” He screamed, “No, don’t...” his voice became softer. “Please, stay with me. Mary you’ll be alright.” He ran his fingers through her hair. She smiled softly before her hand dropped to the floor, her eyes glazing over. His heart stopped, his breaths became short. “No...” He whispered, leaning toward her face and planting a kiss on her chill skin.
That’s when he noticed something. Two marks, like pin pricks on her neck. He looked closer; they were a finger length apart. “What’s this?” He muttered through his veil of tears.
The dark shadow looked at the window; his eyes gleaming with rage. He picked up Mary, her lifeless body seemingly weightless. For a moment he stood there, wondering where he would go. There was no where he could go.