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Claire with difficulty reached the bed. Claire still felt that the movie begins to drive her crazy. Black and white with an admixture of blue frames continued to spin in consciousness. Red on them was only blood. They spit, sucking consciousness into a bottomless well, full of torment, screams and abstract, but still frightening images. Torture! Blood! Pain! Screaming faces! Appears in convulsions, not the martyr, not that tormentor! Well and horror! Claire did not even understand where she had such a fear of torture. She was never tortured. Well, unless in the doctor’s office, when they took blood on the analysis or did x-ray. All medical procedures seemed to the Clair equally unpleasant and disgusting. And she could not tolerate doctors, as well as all those experiments they put on patients for scientific purposes. The maniac in films was just a doctor, and he spent the survivors of the operation. Anyone who has suffered in the office of blood delivery, such a plot will easily bring to the shock state.
In vain she looked all this. And of course, at all in time the TV turned on by itself to update unpleasant impressions. Probably, everything was explained by some crawling in electricity. Claire decided to be satisfied with this reflection, because it was the easiest, although not quite logical.
She was afraid to sleep now, and still she threw back her head on the pillow. Usually darkness soothes nerves, but not after such films. Terrible phrases from the film also flashed in consciousness. «Do you want to see it?» «Do you want to hurt me?» «Do you want to play with pain?».
And along with them, they suddenly had completely different, uttered by a hoarse male voice, and not seductive female, as in the film.
«Do you want, I will kill your enemies?» «Do you want, I will torment them so that even hell will be a paradise?» «Do you want, I will show you how you can do art on flesh with a knife, better than a brush on canvas?» «How can you not want to hurt others if they caused it to us: me and you?» «The enemies need to be destroyed, Cordelia, and having delivered them to maximum pain. How can I regret them if they did not regret us?»
Her eyelids fluttered in a dream. Again this name. Cordelia! She dreamed of her or she really heard it somewhere. Claire did not remember. She did not have acquaintances with the same name. But sometimes it seemed that someone calls her so.
Cordelia! Cordelia! Cordelia!
The name, as an elixir, healing the wounds on the body, but also a sharp knife, which led to suffering.
«Cordelia!» Claire whispered this name in a dream or just repeated for someone. Someone as if called her from the mirror, again and again repeating it.
She woke up in the middle of the night. Electricity, obviously, have already turned on, because the electronic clock on the table showed time. Ten minutes past three. Claire wanted to close her eyes again and suddenly realized that she was not alone in the bed. Near her was an angel. The most real angel. And he touched her. Touch resembled a love affection. Claire was not even alert, although the event was in general unusual. But for some reason it seemed that it should always be. He had to be here every night.
Angel in her bed. How beautiful he is. She probably was eager to stay for a long time alone only in order to see him. And it does not matter who he was: fruit of fantasy or incubus. In addition, the feeling of another body in bed was so clear. Here the face of sleep was erased, and a dark fairy tale began. His touches were magic. He reminded the creature from another century and still somehow knew about the terrible film, which she looked yesterday, and the images of which now was tormented her in nightmares.
His beautiful blue eyes spoke more than the words could say. Kisses burned. She ceased to be scary because of the film, but the feeling of some other fear enveloped as an ice water.
«Don’t be afraid of anything,» he whispered, «because I’m with you, and no one will make you evil.»
Claire looked at him with surprise. She already heard these words somewhere. She read more precisely. This is an inverted saying from the Gospel: «Speak and do not be afraid, for I’m with you, and no one will make you evil.»
«Yes, no one,» Claire agreed and focused her eyes. «No one except you.»
Why did she say it? He is so ideal. Only his hands. She did not notice these terrible burns before. And wounds. And wings. Claire screamed, realizing that she hugs something creepy.
She screamed for a long time. It seemed that the walls should shock these screams. But the creature did not disappear anywhere. It concerned the claws of her flesh, but did not wound. Touch were tangible. And they were gentle. Although how generally cutting items like sharp claws or knife blades can be gentle?
In the consciousness, as if some kind of door was opened. And the scraps of memory were blocked like frames from a creepy film. Table for torture. Chains. Blades. Wounds. Satanic laugh. And at the same time fragments of something gorgeous, almost gothic. Silk. Embroidery expensive fabrics. Fragrance roses. Blood on roses. Blood on gravestone statues. Blood on silk. Candles and books for witchcraft. The face of a beautiful young man in ancient coat.
Claire could not connect the fragments of the puzzle or find any logical connection in them. What did she see? A luxury ball or a witch ritual? Roses or graves under garden soil? A love caress or an inhuman torture?
In her mind, all the pictures mixed. Unlike fuzzy frames from the film, they were bright and colorful. They blinded her eyes, and Claire closed eyelids. When she dared to look into the darkness again, there was no longer anyone. Neither angel nor monster.
But where did he go? She felt him next to her. Wounds on her skin is not left only because he did not want to hurt her. But he could. Claire became scary from one thought. He could destroy her in one moment. So what prevented him? What game does he play with her?
If he exists, of course. Claire could think that this monster jumped straight from her work if something like that had ever drawn.
But it did not occur to her. Never!
Innocent
Brad brought her flowers and candy. Normally! He visited her even when she did not want it. Usually he left gifts under the door and came himself, without calling, because he knew that if he would call, she could immediately refuse him to accept him. So today he brought orchids, perfume in beautiful gift wrapping and a box of coconut candies. According to the form they promised to be delicious.
Claire sighed, but picked up the gifts. Brad has always been surprisingly persistent. And annoying. Painted blond with radiant blue eyes in a leather jacket. He dwined around the city on a rather steep motorcycle. He looked cool himself. Got a strong impression on the girls. And it seems that his muscles were developed much more than brains.
He prudently left gifts under the door, and he left. Claire thought that today it would be nice to see him. After all, he did not differ from those guys whose type caused her pain. Will she be able to feel something similar and when looking at him. Or such pain is able to cause her exclusively strangers?
Claire wondered and revealed a box of candy. They really turned out to be delicious. Coconut filling was her beloved delicacy. That’s just Brad… Recently, he stopped seemingly attractive enough to go through the street or ride on his motorcycle. He was the most ordinary guy. And she wanted to see something completely unusual. Something capable of giving a reason for fantasy and creativity on her drawings. Something similar to the image from yesterday’s sleep. Was it only a dream?
Claire looked at the orchids lined on the balcony. Their white petals became golden in the sun. Her eyes also slid down on someone’s blond head at the bottom of the street. No, it was not Brad. She just seemed so at the beginning. Some kind of neighboring guy with the same hairstyle. For some reason, at the sight of it, her covered a light wave of pain.
Already familiar sensation similar to the sunshine was so unpleasant and shocking. Claire hastily turned away. It seems, before at the sight of the same guy, she did not feel anything like that. She knew him, even though she had never told him personally. He lived in a neighboring house and often helped the father to carry some kind of materials for the building of the garage. Occasionally he met with a girlfriend. In general, the most ordinary guy. So why at the sight of him suddenly it became so painful. What if it’s a bad sign again?
It would be better for her no longer see this guy at all. Again! When will these outbreaks of pain end? In a strange way, they arose at her form of completely unfamiliar people. And then these people died.
Claire suddenly has a panic attack. She had no longer been particularly believer for a long time, but today she wanted to find the Bible called somewhere on the shelves. She wanted to know what kind of fellow dreams and predictions above. What if above it and those whom she noticed, a certain biblical network spread. Some of the highest strength reported to her in advance about the death of people. These people were noted, doomed. Therefore, at the sight of them it became so painful. She felt what had to happen to them. But why are they doomed then? And why exactly should she suffer because of them? After all, she does not know them at all. And she is not at all the Heavenly Angel and not the Christian Holy so that all the skin feel sins and torture of other people. If, noticed by her, people are so cruelly dying, then what they are to blame. What was so bad they could do for their short life? What kind of heaven laid the guilt and retribution?
Is it from Heaven? Or is it from devil? Although if you count on the Bible, it was God who created a devil to punish sinners. And it became anyone who he tempts or pushes into the abyss, they are guilty and deserve punishment. The devil is not able to do anything without the permission of God. So is written in the Bible. God orders, and the devil performs. So conceived in religion. Whatever it is contradictory, and all conclusions can be reduced to one. And yet Claire pursued a vague feeling that the Devil, whom she saw in a dream was created regardless of God. He is created by people.
The Bible says that it was the devil that was the most beautiful angel of heaven. And he became the most ugly.
The phrases surfaced immediately:
«You can’t even imagine what value means beauty while you have it. If it had happened, you would understand me.»
Claire clearly introduced himself, as a disheveled creature brings the knife to her face, and shuddered. She pressed her forehead to the door, as if trying in advance to hide her clean skin from a merciless blade. In the mirror on the wall, it was now reflected only by the corner of her cheekbones in the frame of the curly strands.
From the streets came the voices. It seems that his girlfriend came to that guy and brought with her a radio with loud musical records. Claire was unpleasant when, under the windows of her quiet house at night, the music thundered and a drunk company of adolescents had fun, but today she did not come out to specify them. She simply did not want to see these doomed and experience the pain. They are doomed. She knew almost for sure. They are guilty or innocent, but they are doomed. Her pain at the sight of them is their sentence. It is experiencing a burning pain only at the sight of those who will die soon.
She knew it. She came to this by calculations and observations. It was not necessary to have a lot of mind to bring all parallels. Of course, no one would believe her if she began to tell about it. There are such things in which it is impossible to believe until you experienced them on yourself. Claire was bad.
She did not even know this guy, but he knew that he was already convicted of a rapid death. Creepy and strangely mounted paintings of the impending catastrophe for a moment climbed the mind. What happens to him? Same as a pair in the subway? She presented to herself, as this cute blonde knocks on a car, for example, a truck that was done by the highway, and she became bad. Is it really happening? When she paid such close attention to the perfectly unfamiliar people, accidents have certainly happened to them. But she could not stop looking around or not to get out of the house at all. Her attention still can attract someone. For example, someone who has shown on TV. And what happens then? She was not fond of these people herself, some force that accumulated from the outside moved her.
«Leon!»
«Morissa!»
How loud it turns out to be able to scream concerned teenagers. Or Claire is so adgitated that she hears all the sounds from the street. Even recognition.
«I love you, Morissa, love, love, love!»
He shouts loudly, as if trying to prove to himself, he says the truth. And that this Morissa is the only girl in his life. But Claire remembered perfectly that a blonde guy, hugging this very dark-haired girl named Morissa, carnatively looked around at the beauty passing by. Including Claire. She did not approve it. She did not like when already busy guys look at her, as the most tidy in the whole universe. That’s what she stopped to love guys! Probably nothing can be done about it. Do not wait for loyalty from them. Some girlfriend explained to her that all these are hormones and a call of nature. Leon and Morissa were still very fragile, slender teenagers, in something slightly and sometimes such passionate ones that it even caused a slight disgust. Claire has always been unpleasant to look at the joung couple kissing, and now it suddenly has become hard and hurt. As on the eve of execution. What are these two guilty? Can there have such young as they, to be so heavy sins to erase them into powder? Probably the degree of sin is not determined by age.
Claire was firmly confident in one thing that neither God nor the devil could harm innocent. Although they say that everyone is guilty of something. There are no absolutely sinless people.
When Claire noted Brad under her windows, already was evening. At such time it is pleasant to walk. She suddenly wanted to walk with him. Brad did not expect anything at all that he gets such a gift as a whole evening alone with the subject of his adorations.
Claire, who succeeded, to drive away most of the fans, still struck Brad’s perseverance. He had long and hardly made everything to please, although he knew that she would still move him away. He brought flowers and gifts, looking for art galleries and publishers who may be interested in her works, used all his capabilities and connections to please herit. Even with the purchase of a house he helped her. And now he only did not sing the serenade under her windows. So why she did not love him.
«Let’s go to the cinema?»
Claire nodded, although she did not want to, but the proposal seemed to her tempting. Before leaving, she just pointed out Brad on a couple before a neighboring house.
«What do you feel at the sight of them?» she asked him right.
Brad stopped and carefully looked at themhim. He performed all the orders like a dog, so now reacted to her question with an excessive seriousness. Claire has shovel breathing.
But Brad only shrugged.
«I feel that we would be nice to do the same,» he decided that it was rightfully understood the hint and even grinned. «You do not think that, unlike them, we are already too old for this.»
Now Claire grinned. How could he compare their two with such youngsters? Brad knew how to raise her mood.
In the comfortable hall of the cinema, she immediately became better. Especially when Brad bought her Coca-Cola and Pop Corn. The film, which she would like to see, has already begun. They had to take tickets to the first session turned up at the box office. There were only eight people in the hall. Not surprisingly, everyone who turned out to be rash, managed to buy a ticket for a more interesting film. And here were only people who obviously had no place to go. Two fun guys put their feet on the backs of the front chairs, because no one was sitting on a lot of rows ahead. So, their shoes could also be considered for the audience. And the controller disappeared behind the curtain was in no hurry to intervene. In the rear row, some couple kissed, which events on the screen were not completely worried. The film looked gray and faded. It seemed that it was removed long ago and was very cheaply mounted. But Claire was delighted that this was not a horror movie. Something really terrible her nerves would now simply not stand out. After twenty minutes of viewing, some viewer began to fall asleep. A completely empty dark hall really acted on nerves soothing. Claire did not remember when the last time in the cinema was so empty as now. In the middle of the film she closed the eyes and saw a beautiful face. A dazzling beautiful face. It lay on darkness and faded frames. And the boring session suddenly turned into magic. The feeling of dreams dissected only some vague pain, as if on the wrists of Clair was the blade of the knife cutting veins. The pain was so distant as pictures on the screen, but still tangible.
Claire opened her eyes and realized that the session was already, thank God, ended. What can you do? She liked more adventure films. As, however, the majority of the public did. Nevertheless, leaving the cinema, Claire felt some kind of happyness. The face she saw in a dream left the feeling of something indescribable pleasant.
And now she saw his face again in the crowd. A handsome young man in a strange coat was in the crowd, he almost touched people’s shoulders. But they did not see him. People, a couple of minutes ago, came out of the neighboring cinema, formed a whole crowd at the exit. However, the wonderful stranger was well noticeable among them, as if one gold coin among the copper. He suddenly looked at Claire. Right into her eyes. At the same time, he, without stopping, went ahead past the stream of people, elusive, as the current time forward. Claire suddenly realized that he was coming opposite to human movement, but nobody was pushing him.
«Look!» She pulled Brad for a sleeve and pointed her hand forward. «You see him?»
«Whom?».
«That blond guy in vintage clothes. He is goth, probably,» Claire was not in this completely sure. Goth would dressed in black. Even antique goths will not fall into a blue brocade and white lace and will not paint the hair in a platinum hue.
«Do you see a guy not like others?»
Brad only shortly shook his head. He did not see. Claire only now understood. No one except for her saw him. But she saw him. And her eyes suddenly expanded from horror, because the beautiful face began to be instantly covered with burns and scars. Total instant and from him there was only a disheveled mask. Claire even screamed from indescribable horror. Only no one paid attention to this. Her cry was killed in the total hum of frightened votes and panic. At the beginning she did not even understand what was the matter. Only then she realized how she was lucky that she was not in the crowd, but a little bit alone. Some overlaps and huge signs at the cinema were collapsed. The number of victims was accurately calculated in the morning newspapers. A day passed, and they still could not count. Claire with horror recalled a thick crowd at dusk, but he knew that this accident would not be limited. The victims will be countless. They should not even think about them. It is worth thinking about the face she noticed in the crowd. That night, Clare saw a lot of terrible scenes and blood, but for some reason, instead of the crippled and dead people, it was stood before her eyes. As if the stranger was the center and the cause of the entire catastrophe.
Edge of torment
«Do you know what happened yesterday?» Shanna, a childhood’s friend. Claire pretended to hear badly, and quickly put the phone. Morning release of «Times» she also threw into a trash can. She did not want to remember what was yesterday. It was too unpleasant.
Blood Messa. Claire frowned.
Crunching bones, screams, moans… In general chaos no longer can be seen that beautiful face that flashed and remembered her. But the stranger as if he remained invisibly attending a broken misfortune. Claire noticed the imprint of his presence in every wounded person, in every mutual corpse… Or was she just went crazy?
She with Brad was barely to get away from the reporters who flew to the place of the tragedy. As they just managed so quickly. Even earlier ambulances.
Claire remembered how heavily relied on the shoulder of Brad. He had practically to drag her back home. He, as a true gentleman stated that it was his most pleasant burden. Still, she did not invite him home to herself. Of course, he was pretty cute and, oddly enough for guys like this, even courteous. And yet she did not want him to spend the night at her. Her bed always remained empty.
As if she was waiting for someone, but not Brad. A pre-prepared set of linen in white peonies still remained fresh. Pillows are only slightly crumpled. Claire had a thought about the stranger from the crowd. What if he was now here? In front of him, she would definitely not closed the door. And what happened then?
Claire was afraid of any knife. Even for butter. So a set of kitchen knives almost always remained in complete integrity. Claire was afraid whenshe was looking at the blade. And on your own veins. How is it easily to cut them. In literary works, they wrote that such death is the most painless. Probably they joked. such an outcome seemed Claire to be the longest and painful. What is it slowly bleeding?
Claire wanted to distract herself. To see an interesting movie instead of shocking news reports. Somewhere she had discs with the films of Jane Austin and the «Pirates of the Caribbean». Or maybe it is worth to listen some pleasant music and prepare a calming bath with fruit foam and lavender petals.
Claire made a choice in favor of the bath. She did not like to calm the nerves with the morning tea, like most of the British. For many British, it may be strange, but not for her. Claire really did not know where her homeland is. And it was hardly survived at least someone from her relatives who can tell her about it.
On the table in the living room recent sketches were laid out. Claire quickly looked at them. She just invented illustrations to Tamlin’s fairy tale. Here Janet, the beautiful daughter of the count, picks off a rose from the bush in the Forbidden Forest. Her medieval dress and pearls in the hair are perfectly contrasted with magnificent barbed bushes, from which the angry Queen of Fairies is observed. The girl is waiting at the crossing of the roads in the night, when she can take away his beloved from the fairies. Her hand is already extended forward to Tamlin sitting on horseback. Here is the most memorable drawing, where Janet hugs Tamlin and suddenly notes that he is not a person, and instead of his legs, he has a coronal ugly feet of the tree elf. Many fairy tale options contradicted each other in detail, but Claire, as an artist, caught the essence. She herself was surprised how beautifully her sketches came out, although they were taken only with a pencil.
She was also offered to illustrate the» The mermaid from Colonsay» and «Tom Tit-Tot». And another number of fairy tales collected from both folk English and from Scottish and Irish folklores. All of them were rather curious and gave a lot of ideas for her artistic fantasy. But Tamlin turned out to be closest to her, so she so clearly drew every detail, every rose flower on a bush, every hair in a luxurious braid of Janet, every tiny flaw in a perfect figure of semi-elf. Tamlin was a man, but he was a captive of the elves. Claire made with the pencil a lot of hints on the fact that this young man has stopped for a long time yo be a human. So he kisses the hand of his lady, and he himself hides ugly claws behind his back. So he hides the webbed fingers under cuffs. Here, from his beautiful mouth, the snake crawls exactly the same as the one that crawls along thebush of roses.
You need to think about what colors it is all coloring. Claire threw sheets on the table and went to fill the bath. She did not find lavender petals, but she found only half an empty jar with a sea salt and a fiber-oil bottle. It will come down. The drum smell just calm the nerves.
Claire rummaged in the shelf behind the mirror, and suddenly something burned her fingers. As if the jellyfish clutched into the skin and burned her through. The feeling was stuck and terrible. It seems she came across the razor blade. Claire herself did not notice how she was cut. Not average, but somewhere in the depths of the soul, she looked like this long ago.
The first cut. Accident! The kiss of the cold blade turned out to be burning. The wound was burning and bleeding, as if the bloody lips were revealed on the skin. And together with the wound, some forbidden gates were opened. Gate to the past. Gate to horror and pleasure. Gateway to heaven, for some reason strikingly similar to the room torture.
Blood dripped on the floor: thick and allay. The drops loose about the tiled plates, smeared on them, excited the interest of some insects crawling in deep crements. In the head of Claire mixed in one kaleidoscope: creatures, thirsty of spilled blood, a long and twisted labyrinth of memories, blood color, similar to crushed roses. This color was simultaneously dirty and delightful.
Crushed roses! Where did this comparison come from. Roses, spikes, needles. They dug into the skin, and blood poured, as it happened to her now. Claire looked at the thick scarlet juice set up and frightened. It suddenly woke up persistent interest to her own bleeding wounds, and it struck her. She looked at the opened cut and vaguely saw many agony of many people. How scary, how attractively!
Her hand expires blood like once a long time ago. In consciousness, stabbing acute needle popped up. She stuck under the skin, and blood ran on a white cloth. Scarlet on white! Claire had a headache from blood loss and outbreaks in memory. Someone was near and squeezed her wounded hand. Like now. Someone grabbed her bleeding hand and raised gently to his lips. Someone with a disheveled face. Clare saw the burned lips, but she did not have the strength to scream. And when they appeared, a mutilated face was so close. She could touch him it she wanted. But for some reason it seemed to her that it should not be as she sees it.
Claire came to herself. There was only a blue tile around it. Walls and floor around were laid out with small square tiles. This is still a bathroom. So why she had a feeling that she was now somewhere else. The mirror without a frame on its wall seemed to have turned into a luxurious thing for a moment. Claire looked at it and saw someone’s outrageous person. It twisted from anger and pain. But it was not her face. The reflections simply lay down on each other. A man watched her from the mirror. Very nice man. Only his eyes flooded with blood. He looked at the blade in her hand, as if warning.
«Do not dare to do it anymore!»
Claire was surprised by the fact that he was completely not frightened. Probably because she was frightened. But the red streams have flowed with thin streams along the elbow. They stained the skin and burned. It turns out, pain from cuts may be such burning. Claire herself would be fainted, if she did not see fear and pain in his eyes. In the eyes pntently looking at her on the other side of the mirror. It comes out, even the creature living behind the mirror, is able to be afraid of something.
Blood drops on silk
Venice, 1570
She was invited to this luxury palace as a modest seamstress. Is it only possible to call a modest girl with delicious golden curls and eyes of the colors of the spring sky. She can wear a white starched cap and a strict apron, has a rough basket for sewing and takes up the door for servants, but you didn’t call her modest and common.
True, Cordelia was warned that it is better to always hold on to the shade when you go to the ownership of the devil. No matter how magnificent and rich was the Palazzo around, and the rumors overlooking these splittings are not at all so seductive as their appearance. Whoever owned all this magnificence, he also owns and bad reputations. Too bad to talk about it out loud. And too scary to not be alarmed.
Cordelia was alerted only slightly. She did not believe that the owner of all this could drink the blood of young virgins and cut cats under black candles. And it is unlikely that his French roots and a recent trip to France could have something in common with obtaining witchcraft skills, as many claimed. She did not believe in magic at all. And even more so in rumors about those who are too influential and rich. There are many envious people. Many poor people need an item for gossip. So they compose stories themselves. All this is just slander. Still, at the entrance to a luxury house, for some reason fear pierced her.
She timidly looked around for the silk on the walls, gilded ceilings and crystal chandeliers, and the cold trembling chain covered her body. It sometimes seemed that this dexterous spider was sprawled around her web and now she can neither move nor breathe.
Strange comparison for the seamstress. After all, she must feel herself a spider, weaving a gorgeous fabric.This time her work promises to be very exciting, because it will have to weave the wedding dress. The wedding web should remain durable and inseparable. For life. For all eternity. That is why Cordelia called here. Everyone knew how durable and beautiful are her works. A wedding dress for Angela Guinchioleli should have merged both of these qualities. The aforementioned Signora was not married for the first time, but it was this marriage that she wanted to keep for life. Cordelia specially paid for it to read one of her prayers about the marriage. The young devout seamstress knew how to do it. Everyone saw her on services in the cathedrals so often, that she was considered as a special e; ectrd of Madonna. Everyone believed that her prayers, sung during her work – this is a sign of a good future. Only Cordelia herself would rather call it a spell. She drove a needle and sank quietly:
«So that the thread does not break, and the fate would fit into it. So that thet will be for ever.»
Her beautiful soprano was echoed in a mirror room. White dress on the mannequin was becoming more luxurious and solemn. She did not spare not the gold edge, nor gentle lace, no beads for embroidery. That will be an outfit. Already now it made the impression of something magical.
Cordelia stopped singing, because she heard some kind of knock at the window. Her words broke off on the semi-note when she realized that no one could knock at the window. It is too high above the ground. And indeed, there was only a bird. A raven black, like night. And it looked at her with such evil eyes, as if it was going to burn her with its eyes through.
Cordelia was so afraid that for a moment she lost vigilance and pricked her finger with the needle. Blood drops fell on a white wedding dress over which she worked.
Luxurious dress. To wear this! Probably the bride is very good. Yes, what to guess there… in such a magnificent outfit, any girl will become a real beauty. It’s all about these silks, weave gold threads, brocade inserts and minor diamonds on the granted upper and lower skirts. Everyone will look at the elegant corset, on delightful sleeves with bulbs, on the golden sewing around the shoulders and elbows. The yards of dear fabric are attracted all attention, and what woman will put them on, everyone is.
«What if you become this woman?»
A voice or a fantasy? Cordelia shuddered and broke away from work. At the fine binding of the window, someone attached. It seems a black bird. It was not capable of saying words, but the flakes of her wings scared Cordelia. Together with the fright the finger was pierced by pain. The needle, which Cordelia carelessly squeezed in her hand, dug her right under the skin. It was terribly painful, and the bird seemed to laugh. Flapping with wings, it flew off the window. It seems that it was a black raven. Cordelia seen how they nest on the roofs. But never one of them was knock at the window.
Blood ran out of the finger. The injection turned out to be much more deeply than she decided at the beginning. It was worth looking for a handkerchief or some kind of rag so that nothing would be swollen, but it was too late. Blood droplets fell on a wedding dress and diverged on a white atlas with brightly aluminum spots. As if bloody flowers were bloomed. Red on white. This is no longer dismissed and not washed away. Cordelia was afraid. What she did.
And at this very moment, someone intercepted her hand. Cordelia strained. Someone’s fingers kept her gently and tightly just over her wrist. And the blood continued to drip out of the wound down on a beautiful white fabric.
