Atop a hill in an extravagant ballroom the music flowed, the masks magnificent, and the bodies swayed. All eyes were on the Withertington brothers, David and Antonie. They arrived with very special guests. Lady Elizabeth in the arm of David, and Lady Susanne in the arm of Antonie. Both couples were identical, biological and appearance wise. The ladies wore scarlet gowns trimmed with gold, and masks adorned with raven feathers.

After several waltz, David wandered to the sides and admired his Dear Elizabeth from afar. Alas! The shattering of crystal glass was heard throughout the hall, as it echoed off the walls. Sir David had crushed his glass in hand. Across the room, there entwined in the arms of Antonie, was Elizabeth! Engaged in a kiss! David left the hall without uttering a word.

The following afternoon, David conversed with Antonie upon the previous night’s masquerade in hopes of a confession. And yet, the 2nd born Withertington son, Antonie, merely grinned like a jester and sipped his tea.

Over a glass of wine, and fine roasted duck, Elizabeth joins David and once again, the masquerade is brought up. Elizabeth gazed longingly into thin air, as if to escape.

“It was lovely indeed”, she replied after moments of silence. David stood and the table shook as he angrily left, ignoring Elizabeth’s begs of his return to their feast.

The clock struck midnight, the moon pale and bright. In front of a mirror stood David. The reflection pitiful, disgusting, upsetting! His fist struck the mirror, and down clattered the million little pieces of David Withertington.

Towards Antonie’s room he ran, bursting through the door, out came a dagger, and as a token of warning, David cried out: “GOD HAVE YOUR WICKED SOUL DEAR BROTHER!!”

Elizabeth screamed and rose from the bed, grabbing hold of the blade that pierced her heart. She wept scarlet tears onto the pearly white linen.

“ELIZABETH!” cried David, “OH! Elizabeth…GOD! WHAT HAVE I DONE?!?!”

He fell to his knees and wept. “Elizabeth…”and that was all to be said, for Elizabeth fell back, eyes closed, and dead.

Down the hall the sound of Susanne scurrying came. David heard and stood. He ripped out the dagger and it clattered to the floor. With bloody hands, David ran, escaping through a window to hide from his fears. Susanne burst in and held her tears.

“Elizabeth…”she whispered, and fell upon her sister’s corpse.

Antonie ran inside his bedroom to see what was the fuss. His eyes scanned the room, Susanne’s weeping, Elizabeth’s corpse; he fell to his knees and screamed silently to the gods. Lifting his head just a tad, something caught Sir Antonie’s eye. The moonlight shone upon the fallen dagger, and out did he reach to retrieve it. By his side stood Susanne, staring at the rusty bladed end.

“He thought Elizabeth was I”, she spoke. For you see, earlier that evening, Elizabeth grew tired. Too exhausted and slow to walk, Elizabeth was lead by Antonie to his bed where he let her lay for she was such a dear friend.

Antonie stood and held the weeping Susanne close. Upon the rotting of Elizabeth, the bright red sun rose.

~Fin~