Gothic Story

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Gothic Story Rozabella struggled faithfully on, her hand firmly clasping that of little Edwin. The trees around them were blacker and darker then the night itself, every crack of a branch, every owl's hoot made Rozabella's maiden heart flutter and convolse with a terrible, otherworldly terror, for it was no ordinary man who would be on their trail tonight and already her weak limbs were failing her, but terror drove them on into the black, savage woods. The thick black mud hindered their progress and Rozabella was soon sobbing with exhaustion and despair. Every sound made the pair start with fright. It was still a long way to the road and rescue when the howling of wolves silenced the night air, both stood as if frightened rabbits, the boy shaking with terror, Rozabella struggling to keep her wits. The howls were bloodthiristy and wild, their voices promised a terrible death for the prey of tonight. The prey that even now they were tracking, bounding along the track, bloody saliva dripping from their jaws, luminous red eyes piercing the night and illuminating the path before them. The path was muddy and Rozabella's dainty feet were not made for such an ardoruos and dangerous journey. She first stumbled, then fell, a groan escaping her lips, her ankle sorely hurt, she could go no further. Even now faintness gripped and enticed her weary heart, but Edwin was beside her; while it now seemed that fate demanded she should be sacrificed to the wolves and the cruel unclean fancies of her bestial brother-in-law, the child's fate was not certain. He shook her shoulder gently, his huge, blue eyes desperate for reasurance from the only ... ... middle of paper ... ...eatened the walls, so loud and triumphant was it. "Ah my Rozabella, you thought death would come tonight, well rejoice, or grieve as you will for death shall not come for you tonight, nor tomorrow either, not until judgement day itself is upoun us shall you leave this earthly abode. Oh no, you will run by my side in the shape of a wild thing, when the moon is high, you will learn to crave the taste of human flesh, Tonight shall be your inituiation, the boy Edwin shall be your first, the young are so tender my love. But the moon has not yet risen and I crave some refreshment, join me". He severed the ropes that bound Rozabella's ankles and dragged the almost senseless girl to her feet. To face a table, a table set for two, a table that groaned under a golden platter; but no soulless wild thing lay upon that platter…

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