Treacherous Sins

Ending of the Blacks

The black sheets of rain pelted her. She fought against the wind, walking on the cobble street, kicking stray stones when her feet appeared from beneath her dull grey dress. The dark road wasn't lit to anyone's possible satisfaction; she could barely see right in front of her. Just ahead she could see the wooden shack that once had been a great mansion. Thorough the grey she trudged and made her way to the front door. As she got closer to the house, her knapsack got heavier and her skin seemed to pull off her bones. The rain had chilled her to the core. As she approached the front door, she fished in her dress pockets for the house key. When her hand met nothing but cloth, a memory came back when death was right at her heels  not ten minutes ago. 

The screeches of horses as their reins were pulled taught upon their mouths, the scrape of wooden wheels on cobblestone and the clink of keys on the ground echoing through her head. 

Really, she thought, could my luck be any worse? Sister will kill me when she finds out. Not to mention how wet I managed to get this dress. Ill just have to go around to the rear and retrieve the spare keys from there.

She waded through the wet grass and the water soaked her no-longer-new boots she sometimes wore underneath her dresses when she could.

As she turned the corner around the wooden home, she saw the old door was open, creaking back and forth in sync with the wind. 

She just stood there looking at the door, wondering what to do. 

Sister must have left the door open or something, she thought. Some where in the back of her head a voice said, 'Or someone broke in.'

She walked toward the door and stepped through the door frame, closing the door quietly. She dropped her knapsack on the floor and squeezed water out if her hair. She stared down the long, dim hallway. The faded red carpet lining the floor was dry, no footprints. The hall was lit with candles, spread throughout the walls. She walked down the hallway, listening to the howls and screeches of the wind outside. As she came to the middle of the hallway she passed a painting. She walked by it every day, so she thought nothing of it. But something different about it caught her eye. She turned and looked at the painting expecting to see a man, straight posture with jet black hair and violet eyes, wearing a military uniform. That wasn't why she saw. What she saw was a painting shredded beyond even knowing it once was a painting. Only the frame seemed to hold the dignity the painting once had.

She heard a moan from around the corner. The fear in her stomach was stirring, making her want to run away from the sound. But this was her family's estate. and it was her job to protect it if her sister couldn't.

She turned away from the painting and with one final glance,  and she cautiously walked around the corner. 

A girl of about seventeen years was lying there, knife sticking out of her chest, blood pooling around her fingers. Her body was flung on the ground, clearly showing she was stabbed when she was standing. Her violet eyes staring lifelessly into space, her black hair flung around her in a black halo. The girl was her sister, the only relation she had left. But she was obviously dead.

She lifted her gloved hands to cover her mouth as a gasp bubbled up through the layers of horror and astonishment. Tears started to scratch her eyes with sorrow.

But before she could think of who or what did this a sharp pain, so excruciatingly horrid suddenly burst through her skull like a flare of fire. 

Her vision seemed to go completely right sided, and she couldn't think clearly. 

As she fell face down onto the hard wooden floor, she felt the rush of cold wind. She turned her head just barely so her pale cheek was flattened on the ground. 

She saw the outline of a boot as an evil chuckle filled the air. Yellow and black spots danced around her vision in a flurry. 

"Upon my search, I found that Samuel Black was declared dead after being shot fourteen times in the ferocious war. He was a good soldier, they said." It was a man's voice, deep and clear. She could hear the menace in his tone, and his voice sounded familiar, but her concentration was fading and she couldn't grasp onto the memory that held such a voice. "And Miss Antonet Black killed herself after finding out her dear husband was dead." 

Another chuckle echoes throughout the hall. The vision of the girl was no longer there, she heard the man's voice but it wasn't in her thoughts; if the wisps of memories counted as thoughts.

"So if can't kill Samuel or Antonet myself, I might as well kill their lovely children." 

But the last of his words were lost into oblivion because the girl's once iridescent purple eyes had lost their light and her sleek black hair had lost its shine. 

A hand, reached out from the shadows, it's olive skin flaming in the light of the hallway, grasped the handle of the knife that had been plunged into the young girl's head, it's point protruding slightly from her left eye. The hand pulled and it slid out of it's newly made hole with a despicable sound. The hand let go of the knife and it landed perfectly beside the girl's face. 

Upon the sharp, gleaming blade was engraved:

Sinnia Black: Death Caused By Samuel Black's Treacherous Sins

One last chuckle chilled the air as the door opened and closed, leaving the last two members of the Black family behind, dead.

A horse and carriage was waiting for the man who stepped out of the house, and the jingle of keys came slightly from the front of the carriage. The man was handed the keys. He smiled.