What if the life of a person who is dear to youis suddenly taken away by the cold clutch of murder? In part four of the Masquerade series, Kasidy and Anette will be twisted into that situation that brings them closer as friends.
It was some time until Kasidy realized Anette bailed on him, and that he came to the stupid meeting for no reason. He paced around for some time, talked to the statue, itched his head, did silly division problems in his head. Throughout that whole time, the meeting was still going on……then the gentlemen piled out like a herd of elephants in India.
Kasidy still sat on the stairs, hoping he wouldn’t look like a fool just standing around. He looked around, no man he saw he actually knew, and different colognes mixed into the air to create the smell of “Rich Men”. Few people walked over to Kasidy and said “Ello, my Lord”, or anything like that, so he just sat. And waited.
Sit.
Wait.
Sit.
Wait.
Kasidy looked at his watch. By that time all the men had ceased.
Sit.
Wait.
Sit.
Wait.
Kasidy got up and neared the main door, looking back behind him just in case Anette decided to fall again. No Anette.
The young earl got up, disappointed about not seeing the Swedish countess. The dreariness outside made him even more depressed, so to calm himself the young earl decided to write a poem about Anette; if he could. As he walked along the dreary cobblestone streets of London, Kasidy thought of nothing more than Anette. He hardly knew anything about her, so that just made him more curious. What was her mother’s name? Did she have a sister whom was strangely attractive? What did she like to do on the weekends? The questions played over and over in Kasidy’s head like a silent movie, and he somehow wished he never met her in the first place. He laughed at thinking so, and sat down on a damp bench that certainly wasn’t made for such weather. Regretting meeting Anette, mm? The sentence made Kasidy cringe and he felt he deserved rotting in the Tower of London then to utter the words.
By the time the young earl got back home, another downpour had begun again. He sat in the parlor, the “Sanctuary of Madness” in his hands, thinking of days to come. Give up on Anette, he thought. Find someone else…..
I love you so much, and yet you just leave
The rain can do nothing now
No one’s fault.
No one’s fault.
Who are you really
You don’t have to hide anything from me
Welcome to Authspot, the spot for creative writing.
Read some stories and poems, and be sure to subscribe to our feed!
