Little Town Of Modric

ANNA

"Die ", she pleaded in her head as her eyes filled with tears.
From an outside perceptive, Anna Elizabeth Davison was the perfect mournful wife.
"Die," she begged in her head, watching her sick husband lay there looking minutes from death.
She knew not to get her hopes up.
"Please, let me be rid of you," she felt horrible as she silently begged.
In truth, he was not an awful man.
He let her buy as many clothes and jewels as she wanted.
More so that he might look like the perfect providing man any woman would want.
He had been but forty years older than her.
Anna never had a say in her marriage to the man.
She was born, bred, and taught to be his wife.
The minute she had bled, her parents had set the day for her to be married to Lord Davis.
She had grown up knowing exactly everything about the man in front of her yet the day they were married, he was nothing but a stranger she had seen here and there.
Learning to be someone's wife was not the same as being their wife after all.
She often felt like a sick nursemaid tied to her patient day and night.
Though she liked him better sick than energized and ready to lay with her.
"Die," she pleaded looking at the lines of his face that had deepened with time.
She was sure she would go to hell, but she could not be sure she wasn't already in it.
His chest heaved in his sleep heavily.
It was getting harder each day for him to breathe.
She felt as if it was a sigh from God, taunting her of her freedom.
Suddenly, his breath stopped and she quickly checked his pulse as the nurses had instructed her to do.
She should scream and call for help.
She waited a minute before she started wailing madly.
"SOMEONE HURRY, " she screeched. 
She didn't need to act because the guilt that rested on her soul for wishing him ill truly wanted him awoken.
By the time the doctor arrived an hour later, it was only to confirm he had died.

She wore black to his funeral, with a golden locket he had given her on her sixteenth birthday.
It was also their third anniversary present. He had married her on her fourteenth birthday.
She didn't quite like gold as much as silver.
He hadn't known, though, and she was happy she had gotten something close to her style at least unlike last year.
When she came back to the house after the funeral and back to her bed chambers.
She found her best friend Vanessa waiting for her in a red dressing gown.
" I thought I'd comfort you for your loss," she smirked.
She was dazzling with her dark red plump lips and smokey
eye shadow.
She truly was a vision in her red robe.
Vanessa had been Anna's best friend since she was thirteen.
She had done her hair and make-up the day she was to be married and even made a flower crown of the flowers she found in the garden.
She was possibly the most beautiful woman Anna had ever seen.
Anna could never stop staring at her dark brown hair that fell to her hips or her plump lips or dark brown eyes.
She had hips, unlike Anna.
She never wanted Vanessa near her husband, and yet she could never have the heart to kick Vanessa out of her life.
"Why do you wear my red robe to bed?", I glared down to the open robe, revealing nothing underneath.
She smiled coyly in a way that made my face flush and my head felt dizzy.
"I was hoping you'd take it off me," she had a low voice that would have made any man buckle.
"My husband dead if you were hoping to sleep with him," I snapped curtly.
She looked taken aback, which Anna thought was absurd.
"Your husband being dead is exactly why I am here ", she said firmly,  standing up from the bed with a scroll on her face.
she walked right up to my face.
She was only an inch taller than me so I only had to tilt my head up very slightly to meet her gaze.
I felt my face burn as I remembered the day she had kissed me at fifteen and how we had planned to do more than kiss before one of the older maids caught us and told my husband of the matter.
I still had the scars of his whip lashes on my back for my betrayal of him.
"Why?", I questioned. She was beautiful enough to kiss any man of any fortune or title.
Why would she want to kiss a dead man's newly widowed wife?
" you know why", she whispered to me as we touched noses together.
My heart leaped into my throat.
How could someone as beautiful as an oil painting fall for a mousy-looking girl like myself?
She was a goddess, a divine right that for some reason according to ancient texts, men were only supposed to see.
I often thought that part of religion was written by men who had never asked real honest wives what beauty is.
If I asked a man what a woman's beauty is, they would sit there and compare the woman in their life to the closet pretty flower they have seen that day but if someone were to ask me what beauty in humanity looked like, it would be Vaneessa's gentle hands and playful smiles. No flower could match her beauty.
She had the type of fingers you wanted to watch play along on a grand piano.
She cupped my face gently in her hands.
"Let us run away together," she begged.
"To where?"I could not stop the tears that threatened to spill from my face any more than I could stop the rhythm of my heart she played like a song.
"To a cursed place where the only fairytale there is will be the one we make",she  whispered stepping into my space closer.
"Who would dare to live in a cursed place to make a happy ending?", I wanted more than anything to not think of what she meant and just say yes but the logic in my brain was as stubborn as my heart.
"Any place without you is my only curse", she whispered breathily in a way that had me nearly dropping to my knees.
"There are far worse fates than being without me," I laughed, unable to hide the humour I found in her idea of happiness.
" I would rather spend a lifetime looking for you at every ball than be stuck somewhere where I may not see you", she grabbed me by the waist with her right hand while still cupping my face with the left. It was true now that I was a widow, I  would be forced to remarry since my former husband had gambled away our fortune. 
She kissed me til I felt dizzy.
I knew then that whatever curse she promised to take us to I would gladly follow my evil enchanting witch anywhere.

.............. 
"We have arrived ", She called and stared at the small grey town from up the hill.
"Welcome to Modrics," I read from the sign.  Then I looked below the sigh to read the rest.

𝒲𝐸𝐿𝒞𝒪𝑀𝐸 𝒯𝒪 𝑀𝒪𝒟𝑅𝐼𝒞𝒮

𝒪𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝓊𝓂𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝓉𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝓂𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈. 𝐸𝓃𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓂𝓎𝓉𝒽𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓁𝑒𝑔𝑒𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝐹𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝒸𝒽𝑜𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓁𝑜𝑜 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓉 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓁𝓈 𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝒾𝓂𝓅𝓁𝓎 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓀 𝒶 𝓃𝑒𝓌 𝒽𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓉.