The Secret Masquerade

The roses are crying - Opal

My favorite game was hide and seek. Always was and always will be. Even almost being an adult myself, I would never give up this feeling of childhood happiness.

"Opal? Oh Opal?"

    "Gotcha!" I yelled as I jumped toward my little brother after a long tireless game of cat and mouse in the manor.

I can not lie, I was lucky. I was really lucky. Thanks to some stupid society or something that my parents are a part of, we've been pretty good off. My father, A wealthy man, married my mother at the young age of twenty-three. We were a happy family, and I don't see any reason to change that. However, there was a ring of the doorbell.

    Our mailman, Henry, always brought our mail to the door. It may have been because he genuinely wanted to be a nice person. But I think it is because he fancies my mother. I ran down the stairs, and then to the door and opened it. To my surprise, it wasn't Henry. The woman was dressed in the same uniform and the same little blue hat that Henry wore, but it wasn't him.

    "Where is Henry at?" I asked, taking the few envelopes that lay in the strange new woman's hands. She had a warm and inviting smile and I felt as though I could trust her.

    "He was feeling sick and called in. But I'm here!"

    "Thank Goodness!" I said with a smile and then quickly closed the door and turned for the kitchen. The manor was the most extravagant place in a hundred miles, at least. With tall aged brick on the outside, accompanied with ivy, and the inside being even more beautiful, filled with priceless art and great dining halls, it was amazing. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

    "Good evening Opal." My father, Hershel, was a private person. He had many secrets, but I loved him. "I got some roses for your mother earlier today, remind me to put them in the vase. What's all that?" My father inquired as he flipped frying filet that he was preparing for dinner.

    "Nothing much, just the usual. Oh?" I said aloud, "What's this?" I asked once again whilst pulling a velvet envelope from the small stack of letters and bills that had my initials in big gold letters.

"Opal, we need to have a talk." This wasn't good. The last time he had a 'talk', well you all know how that goes. My father gets a low raspy voice when he means business. It wasn't anything to be afraid of, but you could definitely tell a difference.

My father wasn't one to be rattled. He was a strict man, but a happy one. My mother, on the other hand,worried quite often.

"What is this?" She said in a rushed voice.

"Opal got her letter! Isn't this great?" He glared at her. There was a silence but not more than five seconds before she answered.

"Of course!"

"Wait, why is this letter so important?" I asked, starting to open the velvet letter.

"There's a catch to the organization we're a part of."

I've actually known for a while what they are. I had a friend over and we snuck down to the wine cellar and grabbed some. Luckily, I had a drink before her and said it had gone bad. But I knew it was blood.

"I know." They weren't really surprised. Well, it didn't seem as though they were. "How old are you?" I asked.

"I am two hundred and thirty. Your mother is three hundred."

"How many people have you killed?" I said in a monotone voice.

"The Society does a monthly volunteer blood drive."

"So, you take blood from people that actually might use it? From people that are dying and need it?" I wasn't mad that they were immortal blood suckers, I was mad that they didn't tell me. Secrets run deep in this family. First my aunt had a secret love child, then my grandpa's affair, and now this.

"We'll, we are the people that need it. We need it to survive. Even more so than those other people in the hospitals. Regardless, we all have a group charity that everyone pitches into to give back. But of course, there are accidents." They both looked towards one another.

"What kind of accidents?"

"Never mind that." My mother stated, resting her hand on my fathers shoulder. "You need to decide."

"Decide what?"

"Open the letter dear." I did as she said. The velvet letter was a formal address. An invite. To a masquerade.

"A masquerade sounds fun!" I said, clearly trying to adhere to what my parents wanted. My mother then left from my fathers side and went to grab a vase.

"There is one more thing." My father said. But before he could tell me the rest, my mother dropped the vase. Glass shattered everywhere and an army of roses fell