🕸 I 🕸

I recall it as if it was a dream. Very few people ever find their true match. I never hoped to find my own. I thought I was simply a unique beast never to find another.

But I found that person, one whose dreadfulness lines with mine.

Oh, yes, etiquette would dictate that I should introduce myself.

So be it then! Let my dreadful backstory be known.

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I am Madame Gothia Cordelia Vineharth.

My curly hair is a beautifully midnight black, skin pale as a full moon, eyes as dark as a stygian abyss, and I am vexingly short. Shorter than most in the world. I am often mistaken about my age due to my height. That is until those mocking my height notice my most generous bosom.

My figure is most comical to some but also the envy of others. I cannot help how I was born. Suppose the Gods gifted me such a boon in exchange for my lack of verticality. The Gods have been quite generous in most other regards.

My upbringing being one such tremendous twist of the Fates.

I am the adopted child of Baron Vineharth and Baroness Vineharth. And the only reason they adopted me was because they believed they could never conceive a child. I was born to poverty and my mother was regarded as too demented to raise a child.

So, a trusted retainer of the Vineharths discovered me as a baby in an orphanage. And I was deemed worthy of being a noble’s child. Oh but how deliciously cruel the Fates can be. After my adoption, exactly nine months after, the Vineharths had their first born.

A girl who was to be my sister. And while I was the oldest, the Vineharths had deemed their blood daughter to be the true heir to the family legacy. I was blessed with remaining with the family and became my sister’s lifelong retainer.

What is her name, you ask? Let me sigh heavily before uttering her name, thank you.

Lady Magnolia Staria Loretta Vineharth.

Yes, my sister was annotated with not one, not two, but three names. All three are so dreadfully plain. I simply address her as Maggy because she hates it when I do.

Is it teasing or resentment? I cannot even decipher the difference anymore.

She is tall, gorgeous, buxom, and blonde. Yes, a platinum blonde like a sun-bleached moth. Her skin is tainted with freckles that has the quality of a starry night sky. Her eyes are like a diamond sparkling in a full moon.

If it had not been apparent by the description, I have a love-hate thing for my sister.

Maggy and I were raised together. We shared tutors, the same maids, and existed in the same living quarters. And yet, Maggy became a refined and dutiful girl worthy of inheriting the Vineharth legacy.

But I became more sophisticated and fascinated with the macabre.

Maggy prefers bright colors like pink and yellow while I gravitate to reds and blacks. Mmm, yes, deep black, like my heart and soul. Needless to say, no one ever got us confused at parties.

Watching Maggy stumble her way through social gatherings had been entertaining. She lacked any aptitude for books and learning but she had looks that could kill. Yes, so very attractive, my dear sister. If I was her adopted brother instead of her sister, I would seduce her and take her as my own.

Tragically, she had always assumed I was teasing her or making jokes. Was I joking though? Did I have an unrequited love for my step-sister? Or was it purely carnal infatuation born from a deep seeded jealousy?

I shrug and sigh because my mind is as mysterious as the Fates and the stars that circle above.

My tastes are not biased when it comes to potential partners, gender or background be damned. But the personality and interestingness of a person matters greatly to me. I have met many boring and bland people amongst the nobility. I considered hunting through the common folk.

Dig through the mud, grab a hold of my roots, so to speak.

I wanted to find someone, anyone, whom I could form some meaningful relationship with. Life had become a bore with Maggy and her own search for a partner. Yes, that noble pressure to continue the legacy and find a suitable suitor.

All the youth of the noble are under such pressure. It is the weight of the older generations crushing the new. And the Vineharths were no exception. Many times I journeyed with dear Maggy for a suitor and for one reason or another, things would fall like Persephone returning to Hades.

And as Maggy’s prospects dwindled, my own dark hope for a partner became all the more grim. Maggy was the ideal wife and I was the furthest from ideal. The future always seemed so bleak that I never looked forward to it. Not until that one day.

It was only one day but it was long enough for my life to change forever.

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That fateful day was a dreadful one. The sun was bright on a hot summer’s day. The coach ride was exceptionally bumpy and loathsome. And Maggy was driving me insane with her nagging.

“Now, Gothia, please be on your best behavior,” Maggy told me countless times.

“Mmm,” would be my response to all of her instructions and requests.

Maggy was on another visit to a suitor for her hand in marriage. She was going to be twenty-two soon and it was to the Vineharths best interest that she marry into a higher ranking noble family. Her nervousness annoyed me greatly during each trip. And I had accompanied her on all of them, along with a handful of our trusted servants.

Maggy and I rode alone in our separate coach while the servants crowded another coach. Lucky them to avoid Maggy’s incessant bickering. Even the servants who secretly desired Maggy would lose their taste for her after one coach ride alone with her.

“Will you stop staring off into space and actually listen to me, Gothia?” demanded Maggy.

“Yes, Lady Maggy,” I said.

“No, no, you need to refer to me as Lady Magnolia Staria Loretta,” she ordered me. “Especially in the presence of the higher nobility.”

“Yes, Lady Maggy,” I said without actually listening.

“Will you take this seriously? We are about to be in the presence of a Duke!”

“No need to bellow, Lady Maggy, I understand the importance of this visit,” I said.

“It is not just a visit, we will be meeting with the son of Duke Tiberius Conquest Asmodeus Longroper, the Earl Alberto Raphael Longroper—do not giggle like that, Gothia!”

“Oh, but dear Maggy, Longroper is such an entertaining name though.”

“Gothia! Please, I do not want us to take any wrong steps that would lead to our family name being—do not look at me like that!”

She kept screaming at me. I was slightly turned on by the flush on her face. I entertained myself by imagining us in a risque play of bond. I had read many novels that went into great detail about such activity. And sometimes such literature would offer delectable diagrams.

“I swear, if I did not know any better, you honestly enjoy being yelled at,” said Maggy as she turned her face from me.

“Only by you, Lady Maggy,” I said with a slight smile. “And you have to admit, Longroper is a rather odd name for nobility.”

“The Duke was once the Master of the Executioners Guild back during the civil war. Surely you of all people would not upset a former executioner?” Maggy asked.

I then grinned wide and imagined what sort of methods the good Duke would perform my own execution. Beheading? Drawn and quartered? Drowning? Or . . .

“Judging by the name, I assume the Duke was proficient in hangings?” I asked.

“Oh, you and your fascination with death,” complained Maggy. “It is so unhealthy. And to answer your horrid inquiry, I have not the faintest idea what the Duke specialized in. And I forbid you from pestering him on the matter.”

I yawned because it was noon and I was a creature of the night. Maggy continued to nag me even as I shut my eyes. I was about to fall asleep when Maggy kicked me.

“There will be none of that while I am speaking to you, Gothia! And another thing—”

I suffered until we finally reached Longroper Manor. Maggy and I exited our coach and our servants lined up and we all gathered at the front entrance. Duke Longroper and his son exited the manor to greet us and their servants lined up as well.

The Earl Longroper was handsome, tall, strong, and blonde. A dirty blonde unlike Maggy’s pure platinum white. And he looked just as nervous as Maggy. I gave him a little attention but only for a moment.

Because . . .

At that moment I noticed the third person with the Duke and Earl. A tall young man who towered over the other two. He wore a black suit of pure darkness with green dressings.

His face was gaunt. He had dark eyes that were bloodshot and sunken, a harrowing jaw line, and flowing black hair as dark as midnight. His hands were encased in shiny black gloves and his shoes had skull charms strung on the laces. And he had a presence about him that sucked the life from those around him.

My eyes met with his and I immediately fell into a black abyss of despair and utter dreadfulness.

My black heart stopped, my dark soul swooned in awe and glory, my whole body became a vessel of tremors, pain and longing. I had found him! My partner, my one true soulmate, my dark angel had arrived.

And I knew he saw me as his equal because he gazed in dark wonder upon me in kind.

The Earl jabbed my dark angel with his elbow and whispered for him to avert his eyes. Maggy kicked my boot to covertly order me to lower my eyes. My eyes regretfully were forced down to stare at the grave at my feet.

Introductions were exchanged but I paid them no mind. All I could think about was to gaze upon my dark angel again. I had to be sure that what I was feeling was mutual. An unrequited desire would be a waste of time and be the death of me.

I lifted my head and risked a quick glance.

He did the same and my dark angel’s eyes swallowed me up again.

And by the expression on his pale face, he too was consumed by me as well.

“And this is my sister, Madame Gothia Cordelia Vineharth,” said Maggy.

I watched as my dark angel’s lips moved as Maggy said my name. I salivated like a black widow ready to feast on her first mate. The hunger within me was like none other. I yearned to be alone with my dark angel and ensnare him on my web!

“Yes, a pleasure to meet you all,” I said, not taking my eyes from my prize.

The Earl then spoke and he said what I yearned to hear. “This is my brother, Master Lurkson Bram Dorian Longroper. Pay him no mind, he is an odd one.”

“Now Alberto, regardless how true your statement might be, show respect to your brother in front of our guests,” said Duke Longroper.

All others faded from my senses as I approached my dark angel, this Master Lurkson Bram Dorian Longroper. I curtsied and he bowed. We smiled and stared into one another’s souls as the others went on about nothing important.

Lurkson smiled at me and I hated that he did so. His smile was so dreadful that I wished to conquer his lips with my own. But he was so annoyingly tall that I would have to stand on the ends of my toes to reach those delectable lips.

And my black leather boots made doing so impossible.

But there was one way I could experience his lips.

“May I slap you in the mouth, Master Longroper?” I asked.

“Mmm, perhaps,” he said teasingly. “But before I consent to a slap, Madame Vineharth, I would like to know why you desire to strike my mouth?”

“Because I feel as if I am dreaming and I need to feel pain to be sure I am not,” I explained. “Striking your sharp lips should bring forth adequate agony.”

“How interesting,” said Lurkson with a horrible and wonderful smile. “I too believe I am dreaming. You may strike me, Madame Vineharth, but I must request that you strike my cheek instead and as hard as you can. It will hurt more.”

I obliged with Lurkson’s request. I reached up and struck him on the cheek. And I struck him with all the force Hades would allow me. My hand went numb as a red mark appeared on his face.

The next thing I knew our families were tearing us apart. Lurkson’s brother, the Earl, dragged him away. Maggy took me behind our coach out of sight. She said words, looked concerned but I could not register any outside input.

My body quaked so great that my legs gave out and I fell to the gravel. I gawked at my hand as the pain swelled up through my arm. Lurkson’s cheekbone was sharp and cut deep into my palm. The agony was absolutely delicious!

Some drool escaped my lips. My tongue writhed like a worm through a fresh coffin. My heart pounded like a mad prisoner locked in a cell. All of Hades could not contain my bliss and euphoria.

I grabbed a hold of Maggy and pulled her down to the gravel with me. I took her by the shoulders. And smiled.

“Dearest Maggy! I am experiencing it! It is marvelous! It hurts but it feels wondrous! It is positively dreadful!”

“You are shouting, Gothia,” said Maggy in awe and fright. “You never shout.”

“That is because I have never felt like this before, Maggy,” I explained.

“What on earth did that ghoulish boy say to you?” asked Maggy as she took my hands. “Did he offend you so much that you were compelled to strike him? And you are trembling.”

“Maggy! Oh, Maggy, it is happening to me! I never thought in all this life I would experience it!”

“What are you on about, Gothia? Make sense at once or I will call this whole meeting off and we will vacate the Longroper estate immediately!”

A sudden shockwave of harsh reality pulled me from my paradise. My heart stopped and my bliss was fading. I felt as if my innards would escape through my mouth and spill all over Maggy. I gathered my thoughts before Maggy made any irrational decisions.

“I am in love, you simple fool, can you not tell?!”

“. . . wait. What?” asked Maggy in utter confusion. “You are in love with him yet you struck him?”

“No, no, that was nothing. That was a mutual agreement to experience pain. You understand? It was a test to determine if we were dreaming or not. It was harmless. See, look at my hand.”

The palm of my hand was red but no real damage was done.

Tears welled in my eyes but I sniffed them away. The very notion that I would be taken from my soul mate just as I finally found him was dreadful. And not a dreadful I wished to endure.

“Honestly, you are the strangest girl I know,” said Maggy as her brow knitted.

“Please, Magnolia Staria Loretta, let us stay,” I begged her. My utterance of her full name caused her to take the matter more seriously. “My prince of darkness is here and I wish to devour him!”

“You . . . what?” asked Maggy.

“Excuse me?” came a voice. It was Earl Longroper and he approached us. “Begging your pardon, Lady Vineharth.”

“Oh, Earl Longroper,” said Maggy as she stood and bowed. “Forgive my sister's behavior towards your brother. She is an odd girl but she is mostly harmless.”

“Actually, my brother has been rambling about how he wishes to spend time with Madame Vineharth,” said the Earl. “Apparently, she, umm . . . has struck his fancy, so to speak. He actually agreed to be slapped in hopes that umm . . . I am perplexed, something about a dream?”

Maggy nodded and said, “Yes, I will not pretend I understand but it would seem our sibling are in—”

Suddenly, Lurkson appeared from nowhere. He knelt before me on one knee and our eyes met again. My dark bliss returned as he reached out to me.

“Would you do me the honor of spending the day with me, Madame Vineharth?” asked my dark angel.

I reached for his hand then paused. “The honor would be all mine, Master Longroper. But you must address me as Gothia from here on.”

“Gothia . . . what a delightfully horrid name. Then you may call me Lurkson.”

“Lurkson!” The taste of his name was both bitter and sweet and so very vile. I took his hand, a shiver rippled through me upon his touch, and he helped me to my feet. “I feel as if making your acquaintance is going to be a dreadfully good time, Lurkson.”

“Mmm, yes,” he said as he licked his lips. “Likewise, Gothia.”

“Do you understand what is happening, Lady Vineharth?” asked Earl Longroper

“Not in the slightest,” said Maggy with a small smile. “Strange though. I have never seen my dear sister so lively before.”

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