Masque of Darkness

A Story by Perplexation

...How does one setting affect the morale of a story...

‘Masque of Darkness’

An ill-defined cottage sat lonesome in a field surrounded by the shadows of dead oak trees, and the calm winds that so softly blew through the small paned windows. Inside this very cottage, lied a grandfather clock. This clock was known to be forever ticking, with absolute silence and barren purpose.

A man, under the name of ‘Prince’, situated himself in this cottage for as long as he could remember. Alongside him, his father, Howard III. Howard was a wise old man, in the sense of guiding his son through the troubles in life. His son, being as ignorant and oblivious as he can be, snides his father's comments as “useless puns trying to find their way back to a book.” His father insisted that Prince heed his words. “Not all clouds can produce the rain that we need, but all clouds can produce the life that we deserve.”

One late night, Prince was infuriated over his father. Their last few cattle had gone dehydrated and slowly perished altogether by dusk. His father told him, “perhaps we were not all meant to live forever by our own control, but instead, ride the tides of chaos.” Prince followed with an angry tone of voice, “I don’t need your damn sly of wordplay, father!” He ran up to the attic, thinking that life was over for him and his father, and having to live with him was only a needle added on to being there in person.

In that very attic, lied a cabinet, locked for as long as Prince could remember. Upon founding of the cottage, there lied a note engraved into the cabinet itself. It read: “He who sins shall find this to their aid, but be warned, the masque of darkness shall come for thee.” Infuriated, this was all that Prince could handle of life once more. He grabbed the key that lied under his bed, and began to open the cabinet…

Inside, lied a dagger. The dagger had an outlandish appearance on the handle and blade, both. The handle was wrapped in some type of red stained cloth, meanwhile the handle, having a very sharp and stinging feel. Engraved on the blade was an odd shape of what appeared to be a skull. Prince took this opportunity to end both his father's’ and his own lives for the better of this plantation. His father lied down a quarter till’ midnight, and then Prince proceeded to end his sorrows of an old man winding his days down, one by one. The dagger was dropped onto the hard wooden floor, in which the skull on the blade began to turn red…

Prince was unable to pick the dagger back up due to an unknown force preventing him from doing so. The grandfather clock chimed like a church bell… Midnight is here. Outside on the field, appeared the ghostly and phantom-like appearance of a black figure. He looked as if someone cut him out of a drawing paper, his face and body was very rough and rigid. He had what appeared to be wisp-like smoke, steaming off his figure. Prince stared in awe, his eyes not wanting to see what is staring him straight down from the field.

He ran backwards in the cottage, not seeing behind him, in which he ran dead into the clock, cracking the glass. His head and face bloodied up, he turned around to check for the figure… He was dead straight in front of him.

The figure enlarged it’s claws from both of it’s hands. The cottage went pitch black… Nothing to see… Nothing to hear…

The cottage remained empty and barren, no sign of life at all… However, it was fixed of all it’s damage and despair. The dagger returned to its cabinet, the clock chimes once more, and all entities are gone.

The clock chimed once more that night...