The Random Shelf: Plots, Characters & Crazy

A short story

A girl's delighted laugh rang out, warning others of her arrival. She dashed through the stall lined streets, a flash of platinum hair or laughing forest eyes, a mischievous grin or a swish of midnight cloth, was all they could see of her. She skipped and dodged, her movements were magical, a contrast to the dreary surrounds. Everyone moved around her, like a flowing river. Nine years and she already had them all around her faerie fingers.
Behind her a boy tumbled out from an ancient caravan, landing hard on the worn dirt. He stood up, dusting his torn pants, and ran through the bustling marketplace. His hair a dirtier blonde than the girl's, his eyes a paler green. His movements were clumsy compared to his sister's, though he was only a winter younger. He sprinted through the stalls, knocking people and bumping into the stands. He fell down, again and again, but he kept her in his sight. He wanted to win. The chase was not over.
She slowed down, dancing in circles around him, tempting him to come close. Her soft hand was held out; he made a mad dash; she disappeared into the crowds. This game continued as they twisted and turned, the market stalls slowly being replaced by shops, another twist, another turn, the shops merged into row house. The streets became more deserted until the sun found itself hidden, the moon hung high and large in its place. A cool mist settled over the cobbled lanes as the children continued, slowing with every step.
He was only a metre behind her when he spoke.
"Lily, stop. Take me home now." His voice was quiet. He was lost in the dark mist, drowning in its morbid beauty.
"Don't be silly Thomas, the game is still fun," a smile could be heard in the words, but Thomas could feel the uneasiness in them as well, a smile on the verge of hysteria. She stared at her brother for a moment. "Follow me," she rolled her eyes and twirled into the nearest street. Thomas followed, though he could see no end to this one.
The houses cast dark shadows, hiding secrets in their mysterious depths. A sinking feeling consumed them both, fear ebbed away like the cold at their fingers and toes. Then the shadows moved into the light.
Lily screamed, shattering the sky and the earth.
Thomas froze.
A creature. A man. Lent over her. The gentle glow her pale skin emitted faded to nothing. Her eyes dulled, losing their spark. The only colour seen from her was the crimson the man dripped from her neck into a locket. The man rolled the grey locket around in his fingers, examining its ruby contents with greedy eyes.
The monster stood up, his scarlet eyes locked on Thomas. His dark hair had a golden shine in the moonlight. His lips curled up as he gave an unnerving smile. Then he took a bow.
The wind carried his words,
"For you my dear Thomas."
Thomas ran.

Thomas stood in front of the mirror, staring at himself, his face illuminated by a flickering candle. It had been ten years since Lily disappeared. Only he knew the truth. Him and that monster.
His looked into his own eyes, they had darkened over time, a nearly black green- so far from his sister's emerald. His hair had also deepened into a brilliant bronze. An iron trinket hung from his hand by a chain, a cage lined with glass. The witch said it had once held a liquid of great power.
Power was what Thomas needed.
The witch had told him that nothing could save his sister. That was impossible. Instead she had given him the necklace: "It will guide you to the revenge of the one who hurt you," she had whispered, "It will read your heart's mind and take you there." He went to hand over his gold when she pushed his hand away, "You do not yet know what your heart knows, be careful." She then took his gold and disappeared into the crowded inn.
Thomas slipped the necklace around his neck, watching himself in the mirror. His glassy image flickered, his eyes glowed to a near red and his lips curled into a chilling smirk, a trick of the light? The scene in the damp room flickered, moving backwards, he could feel a substance flow around him. It tasted like blood.
Seek revenge on those who hurt me I will. The witch was right, his heart knew so very much.

Authors Note: I have two points to make here.
 1) Does anyone have a title suggestion for this piece, I am flat out of ideas.
 2) I am unsure if people will understand the ending. If you don't just ask.
As usual comments are appreciated.