Black danced across a canvas of deepest blue, playing tricks with the moonbeams of the night. A single leaf rode the air to the still waters below creating rippling life with its arrival. Then darkness revealed the dark doings of the night, silhouettes clashed and deep crimson ran dry upon the lush green. A silent scream echoed in the air, begging for the sweet nectar of life. Death was not kind in its answer as the sin stained figure fell forever lost to the world of the living. Bloody silver glinting happily in the night, satisfied with a job well done, there it was then discarded callously among the thrones.
The light of a candle highlights the face of the solitary witness; it shows heartlessly a stoic smile that taints the air with sweet malevolence. Cherry lips whisper words of bitter praise that fade sadly into the silence then chanted death to the flame.
The sound of footsteps could be heard banging against the hardwood floor sure to leave scuff marks not that the guilty party cared for this at the moment; Jamison was rather annoyed this bright and sunny morn. He had been awoken by Mistress Red Tide early this morning to prepare the commoners dish scrambled eggs with cheese the dish of fools, equipped with the knowledge that this request was just that, a fool’s errand. Mrs. Red-Tide knew very well that no eggs where present within the manor, the only way to acquire such commodities would be to go to the neighbouring town and purchase from the vendors there. The neighbouring town was two miles off mind you. Now, after hours of preparation and hard work he finds that Master Red-Tide remains an absent party ot the meal.
“One of these days, I’ll quit. I’ll curse every profanity known to man and storm out with my dignity.”
His sigh echoed through the empty halls, he knew he’d never work up the courage to quit. He and Marcus had been through thick and thin, even the death of Elaine hadn’t separated them. He owed his entire life to that man because of him his daughter could see her mother’s smiling face; for the Red Tide heiress however, he’d sell his soul to the devil just to wash his hands of her. He’d sleep well at nights too, come to think of it.
Dong! Dong! Dong! The ancient grandfather cloak tolled woefully to eleven am.
“I’d best make haste; the master won’t take kindly to tardiness even if it’s his own.”
Jamison swept through the halls like a bat in flight, his tailcoat winking at every turn. Finally, he arrived at the mahogany doors which guarded the master bedroom; and promptly announced his presence with three sharp raps to the door and entered.
“Master, your tea awaits youuu…AHHHH! Master! Someone! Help! Call the police! It’s bloody murder! Jamison ran to the phone “Franklin oh thank god! Call the police! Why! There’s a bloody corpse hanging from the ceiling and you’re asking why! Call the bloody police! Don’t ask stupid questions!”