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Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Morning everyone. Guess what, my computer's back from being repaired =D. But, half of this post which I wrote before got deleted for some reason, so just bear with me=)
Anyway, here is my story =)))))))
Escape the Fate
Just as we cannot control the fiery sun that rises at every dawn, we cannot defy our destinies. Remember this, as I tell you this story.
Nestled in the mountains bordering Spain was a little village known as Neathandra, and it was here that a woman lived. Her name was Cassandra, and though she was a widow, she was young, and beautiful too. Of the several eager men who fluttered around her, hovering over her sumptuous inheritance, none seemed able to hold her attention for long. Some say she was made of charm and eloquence, others say that she was nothing but a bitter-sweet menace to the married women of the town. One could observe that she had everything a woman could wish for, but she did not; for how can I describe to you the grief which plagued her for years after her late husband’s demise? She was in need of new love, and indeed she was blessed, for soon she had irrevocably fallen for the son of a wealthy landowner by the name of Lucus, whom she had first met at a banquet held by her father.
“Why, would you believe it?” she would boast to her friends, “The wealthiest man and woman in town! In love…”
For many weeks, she hovered between fantasy and reality. During the few times they met, she would lose herself in his gaze, dazzled by the way it seemed to grip her heart, forcing it to accelerate. Soon it became clear that she would die sooner than be wed to anyone who was not Lucus.
Yet she was inwardly doubtful. Try as she did, she could not win the sincerity in his eyes when he looked into hers, and was dissatisfied.
“No, not so soon,” he would tell her when she brought up the topic of their marriage, “I will be unable to carry out my duties if the chief learns that I am soon to be wed.”
He did not love her back. No, he only had eyes for Miranda. And who is Miranda, you ask? She could not be compared with Cassandra. Or so that was what Cassandra thought. She was, after all, only a factory maid; bedraggled in comparison, and dark-skinned. But she was also beautiful, and Cassandra despised her for being so, for what did it matter that she was the most attractive woman in town if Lucus, her one love, did not think so too? How could she, almost a pauper, fall for someone as magnificent and well-earned as him? What was it that Miranda had that Cassandra did not? Cynism overwhelmed her, though she did not quite know why. Perhaps it was the way Miranda seemed almost too poor and too vulnerable, yet able to wrap Lucus around her finger and have him eating out of her hand.
She was miserable, and hated being alone. Frustrated, she made a journey to the heart of the village, and sought to speak with a fortune teller. She couldn’t bear to live any longer not knowing if Lucus would ask Miranda to marry him, or refuse her, as he did Cassandra.
As Madame Zaraine set her cards on the table, her eyes became alarmingly round.
“The two of spades,” she whispered, and suddenly the room was filled with cold, silent air as they both knew that the two of spades could only mean murder, and that the cards spoke the truth.
“A murder,” the fortune teller wheezed, “of the person you love the most in the world.”
Cassandra wept into her dress and pleaded helplessly, for she knew that the cards could only mean that Lucus was to be killed.
“Who would do such a thing?” she choked.
“A woman whose love is poisoned by envy and greed. Be warned, she is not who you think she is. And remember, fate is irreversible, and you must follow your destiny, as must we all,” and she said nothing more.
Several weeks passed, and before long Cassandra had received the news which she had dreaded so vehemently. Lucus and Miranda were to be married. Fury boiled inside of her as she remembered how he had used his duty as a poor excuse to deflect her proposal. She stormed towards his residence, ordering to speak with him.
“Fool,” she hissed, “are you blind? All she wants is your inheritance.”
“You are mistaken, Cassandra. Miranda loves me for who I am, but after we are declared husband and wife, if she is in need of money, I will not hesitate to aid her,” was all he said.
Cassandra knew that what she had suspected was right. For she could only think of one woman who could possibly want to commit such a crime, and who coveted his inheritance more than Miranda? Though she had heeded Madame Zaraine’s words, she was not convinced that she was powerless against the omen. Beleaguered, Cassandra was suddenly aware that the answer to her turmoil was simple: Miranda had to be eliminated, and fast, before the wedding. She would be the only soul to know of the true story behind the mysterious disappearance of the forlorn factory maid. And Lucus? It would be as if Miranda never existed!
Finally, nightfall blanketed the village. Cassandra entered Miranda’s ramshackle house stealthily, and upon reaching the room in which she was sure she was sleeping in, pulled out a dagger from deep within the folds of her russet dress. But she was disoriented. Miranda was nowhere to be seen. Had the maid slipped right through her grasp just as she was about to eliminate the only thing that stood between her and Lucus?
Suddenly, a dark figure emerged from the doorway and made for the interior of the pitch-dark room. Spurred by the paroxysm of sheer terror, she plunged the dagger through warm, bare skin, and the figure fell to the floor.
When dawn broke the gloom, despair took her in its grasp and shook her, for indeed, the cards had not lied. The face which was now illuminated by the sunlight emanating from the window did not belong to the woman she wanted dead; this was Lucus, whom she loved and had fought so hard to keep. Miranda returned home from the cigar factory to discover Cassandra, misshapen and haggard, kneeling by Lucus’s corpse. Still clasped tightly in his right hand was a blood-red rose.