A Horror Anthology

Farewell to The Flesh - @LynnS13

This is what I tell myself whenever my conscience tries to plague me. Duchess Aurora is anything but cruel. Eccentric, no doubt; exotic, definitely. Her beauty spells defiance: eyes the color of an autumn's dusk; the darkest blue with a hint of golden sparkle. Her skin never surrendered to the Venetian sun, and after ten years at the palazzo, it still has the sheen of alabaster. 

The Duchess' husband doted on her, giving in to every whim. So much that, in the last decade, Venice has been dubbed la Cittá di due Carnivale, the city with two Carnivals. Besides the one carried on the Tuesday before lent, the Doche, Marco di Abruzzi, held a feast of masquerade in celebration of her darling signora's birthday. When Abruzzi died, we all expected it would stop, but like all things on this city surrounded by waters, it just... changed.

The Masquerade cannot be done with. It has become the staple of Fall Season, the curtain closing over those lengthy, lazy days; the welcoming of even longer nights. The music starts somewhere mid-afternoon, never quite stopping. Troubadours sing the graces of their host and noble guests, nodding towards her gracious, quiet beauty, hidden behind a golden mask.

I remember my first ball, two years ago. The Duchess' seat, granted by her dead husband, bestowed all honor. Garlands of exquisite hand crafted crystal orchids chimed above her, as if the loveliness of the natural world was not enough. She gleamed as delicate glass, reflecting candlelight, painted her skin a thousand shades. When she chose a partner for the dance, none could refuse her.

The fact that she picked me seemed a waking dream. I held my breath in anticipation of the warmth of her touch and the soft curve of her gentle lips as she curtsied and smiled, signaling the beginning of the dance. Every step was grace in form, poetry in motion. That until, with a twirl of her hand, the musicians slowed the tempo, giving way to a Pavana.

I've never been bothered with pressure before, but the measured step of the dance made me feel as if I had the weight of the world upon my shoulders. There was a sadness in her eyes, a dying down of her smile that made me think of her as a withering flower, trembling at the thought of an early frost. I felt compelled to comfort her, to take off that mask and kiss her brow, reminding her there is no need for sorrow, being a child of Fall herself and living in a city that adored her.

"There's nothing to fear about the arrival of November." I ventured whisper in her ear as we both turned.

"Oh, that I know," she answered. "Not when I still hear October's call."

Another turn, another step, and our brief moment came to a close. I bowed and smiled and thought that I was done. Upon escorting the young widow to her seat, Aurora Abruzzi casually commented: "A man of your knowledge might be of use for me. As I understand, Doctore Marchessi, your skills might render me good use. You have recently come back from Florence after completing your studies as a surgeon. Am I right?"

"Indeed, signora." I answered proudly. I was the first of my family to take on the robes of a medical practitioner. Somehow, I also added, in confidence, being an orphan taken under the tutelage of the Bishop of Florence.

"And so... does the good Bishop has a say on your choice of Venice?" She inquired.

"We had a lack in understanding, dear signora. Though I love the man as my own father, his concepts of sin and mine are at odds." I smiled, feeling that our conversation will soon take a turn towards the intimate and I might be right about all I thought on the sweet taste of things forbidden.

I won't be convinced otherwise. People might say she searched me out because I was alone in the world... but there's nothing farther from the truth. We made a connection that was to be put to the test that same night.