St. Văduva's School for Prestigious Girls

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕿𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖞-𝕿𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊

Constance looked beautiful, dressed in a knee-length lacey midnight-blue dress. Her hair was curled in ringlets, fastened in the back with an abalone clip that their grandmother had. Her makeup was minimal — eyelashes curled and painted, cheeks rosy, and lips glossy and nude. She stood beside Temperance, looking ahead solemnly. Temperance frowned at her expression, noting the crystal beads of tears being held back in her chocolate brown orbs. Her bottom lip quivered, face contorted tightly, as though hiding extreme anguish.

Temperance reached for her, but Constance moved out of reach, walking down rows of empty chairs as they sat on green, vibrant grass. The path ahead was blurry and when Constance got too far, Temperance could barely see her hazy form. She, too, began walking forward, arm outstretched as she tried to catch up to her sister.

"Connie, what are you...?" Her words trailed off as she watched a blurry shape in the distance as they both approached. Oblong until the blurriness refined, and then Temperance could make out clear-cut edges. She gasped when the full picture came into view. A coffin. Dark brown in color, with a glossy coating across the wood. Ornate damask designs wrapped around the edges of the box, swirling like clouds. She could see the first-half lid was raised, white velvet lining the inside. Constance sobbed quietly as she approached, and Temperance furrowed her brow as she followed, keeping her distance.

White flowers that she did not notice straight away were tucked into Constance's trembling fist. Casablanca lilies. Her favorite.

Constance came up to the open coffin, fat tears rolling down her face, streaking mascara as they went. Standing over the coffin, she bent down, placing the flowers inside. She fiddled with something inside, before stepping away, dissolving back into a blur in the distance.

Temperance swallowed. As if unable to resist temptation, her legs began moving of their own accord, slowly carrying her to the coffin. And as she was forced to move, surmounting dread grew heavier and heavier in her gut. The weight of it made it feel as though her steps slowed, but her eyes were taking in things quickly.

She caught sight of dark hair in the coffin and her breathing hitched. Then a pale arm came into view, then a white dress.

Temperance's breath stuttered as she grew nearer and nearer. She squinted her eyes shut until her legs ceased their movement, her hips digging into the lip of the coffin as she reached her destination. Her heart beat quickly in her chest, threatening to explode out of her mouth. She wanted to turn around and leave, but she felt her eyelids being pried open by some unseen force, making her gaze into the coffin. Slowly, the body came into focus, and she felt all the blood drain from her face.

The body was her. Temperance's double lay before her, eyes closed and arms crossed over her chest. The flowers lay tucked between her index finger and thumb, but they were now withered and dead.

Temperance felt herself shudder as she involuntarily reached into the coffin with shaking hands to confirm that it was her. The skin was deathly pale, her face sunken with dark, purple shadows in the curve of its cheekbone and beneath her sunken eyes. Her corpse was painted with makeup to try and liven her up — eyeshadow, peachy lipstick, and rosy blush. But she could still see the dark purple veins peeking through the eyeshadow and the dark hallows of her cheeks. But it was her nonetheless. A thinner, sicker version of her.

She prodded the cheek, and before she could react, the corpse's hand shot out, grabbing hold of Temperance's wrist. Temperance shrieked, trying to escape the cold grasping fingers that squeezed into the bones of her wrist. She tried to pry the skeleton-like fingers, but they held fast. Her frightened orbs caught a flash of red in her peripheral. The eyes were open, wide and horrifying. Crimson flowed from the tear ducts over the cheeks, as the eyes shined a brilliant cerise color, a far cry from her gray orbs. Its mouth opened, full of fangs and a jaw that opened much too wide, and just as it began to speak—