Lady Viol,
clearly in a hurry, pulled on her black coat as the Big Ben struck ten and
pulled on a thick, black lace veil over her head, the same one her
great-grandmother had been wearing on the terrible night that took away her
triplets, never to return them. Lady Viol now shuddered at the recollection of
that afternoon when she realized how history is repeating itself, the Night
taking away every set of triplets in Lady Viol’s jinxed family.
It had all
started one golden evening, when Lady Viol’s own golden-haired, blue-eyed,
goddess-looking, ethereal triplets never came back from school. She searched
and searched and searched the streets of Surrey and spent millions of dollars
scouring every inch of the Earth but in vain. The three 8-year-olds seemed to have
vanished off the face of the Earth. Despondent Lady Viol lost all hope and for
years she loitered the streets of London – despite having unimaginable riches
in her name – for her three golden ducklings. It was not until a few hours back
she had discovered much to her surprise, especially after, scouring the
triplet’s room about a dozen million times, a small inch-long pewter owl with
five words inscribed in neat cursive: the three goldilocks and the bear. The
sudden realization had hit her with a wave of hope that her three goldilocks
were still alive. However, the joy had blinded her, for the tiny ear of the owl
had a single word engraved in it – ‘Night”.
Lady Viol
practically forgot her gracefulness while running towards the graveyard – where
a cold, stone bear stood cowering at the face of death – with her skirt pinched
up high and running barefoot. “Very unladylike, mother would say,” she thought.
Just because everyone forgot that the direct lineage of the great Princess Ann
still exists, doesn’t mean that you must behave like a princess! Soon, she
skidded to a stop near the graveyard and entered through the rusted brown gate
which literally gave way to hell on Earth.
Once inside,
the atmosphere changed so quickly as it someone had suddenly clicked a ‘horror’
button on a remote. The air seemed heavy and grey and a light mist clung to the
graveyard as it warning any nightly visitor that he or she is sure to die.
“This is where my husband, Jack, was buried after adopting the triplets, Jill,
Hansel and Gretel,” she thought. A hooting owl pulled her back from her train
of thought and reminded her of the cold pewter owl now in her right pocket. She
dashed to the ten-feet, tall stone bear at the edge of the graveyard. The
bear’s eyes seemed to reflect the mood of the graveyard – cold, grey, cruel,
still and stuck in time. As she ran over the bear’s features, a scream of
anguish rose up to her throat as she saw a knife, covered in still-fresh,
dripping blood, resting on the palms of the bear. “No!” she thought, “No! It mustn't
be too late. My goldilocks weren't given to the soil!” She crumpled down to the
ground and half-crawled, half-dragged herself around the bear’s statue,
scouring the ground for any more inch-long pewter owls as tears clouded to her
vision and a piece of glass cut her wrist. As she neared the right foot of the
bear, she found a small golden card – Night had left her a note. She gasped and
her fingers shaking, took the card. The lady, her face barely visible through
the thick lace veil, turned the card to reveal two sentences:
“Jack fell down and broke his crown
but Jill never came tumbling after.
Hansel and Gretel didn't follow the bread
crumbs home,
so Night that taking them was a sin no greater.”
