The Will Of Deception ...

• Narlene Arthur, Grade 9, Thomas More College
• Short Story
• 2008

Finalist in the 'Summertime Fun 2008/2009' competition

It was a wintry night, the heavens so dark they were black, the moon pearl-pale and in sharp-contrast. This was the sort of night where people had retreated to the warm confines of their homes; one person had defied to face the ice-coldness of the night. Wrapped in a thick, trailing coat, a figure swept over the sleet. It seemed to know exactly where it was going, winding shrewdly through the tombstones, ignoring the frightening statues and the shadows.
Halting in front of a tombstone, its head shrouded in a hood, an arm protruded from the cloak, holding a scarlet rose, in disparity to the ice-pale hand. The gentle breeze ruffled the delicate petals, sending a few into a spiral over the figure’s head. It all seemed very innocent.
A soft noise interrupted the form’s tangled thoughts. It looked up and its hood fell, billows of dark, wavy hair gushed over her shoulders and down her back. She was as pale as the moon itself. The young woman seemed to smile into the darkness.
“Candice? Candy, darling?” a soft voice asked into the blackness of the night.
“Yes, here” the beautiful, young woman whispered.
A man unfolded himself from the darkness of a statue of an angel.
“You’ve done your part well” he congratulated.
“Did they see?” she whispered.
“Oh, they saw” he reassured.
Candice threw the rose down coldly onto the frozen grave and smirked.
“Hello, darling Edward” Candice smiled icily at the grave.
“How do you want to spend his money?” the man laughed.
“Let’s go somewhere warm, I’m tired of this snow.”
“Your wish, my command.”
She unclipped her cloak and threw it off, it fell twirling in the air until it touched the ground. The pair was conversing in quiet voices.
“It was a shame we had to wait for a year to get his money” he sighed.
“I know dear,” Candice snapped. “Let’s just crash in and get out.”
The man nodded. He helped her into his car and they drove away into the night. Little did they know that someone had been listening in the shadows.
“She seemed like such a nice girl,” Esme sighed, turning off the camera on a silver tripod.
“I knew all she wanted was the money,” Albert grumbled, taking off his black suit. “Where has Edward gotten to?”
“He’s at the bank, canceling the check.”
“Do you think they’d react too kindly to a man whom is supposed to be dead?”
“No one except Candice and that ghastly Thomas thinks he’s dead, I really think you’re getting dementia.” Esme’s eyebrows furrowed.
“I really like Candice’s idea. We could use a vacation in Fiji.”
The elderly couple laughed to themselves at conjured up expressions Candice would wear when she found out Edward was alive and a year of near-poverty had amounted to zilch. They swore they could hear a shrill, dry screaming that sound oddly like a young woman. But maybe it was just the cold was getting to them.