Death Of A Dark Prince

With bee-stung lips, a heart filled with rage, and tear-filled eyes, Countess shattered the glass in her hand and any chance she had with Prince. Prince and Countess had been inseparable for months, engaging in sweet
 conversation, secret sharing, and intimacy.  The locals insisted she fell too hard too fast.

As a watcher from afar, her heart was elated when she received word of his interest in meeting.  Prince was an alien to her seaside village but was welcomed into her heart as a native.  Countess descended from her castle in the nearby hills on that warm summer night to make her way into the village, seeking Prince and his benign possibilities.  Arriving to his minuscule, dreary dwelling with nervous excitement, she was met by Prince, standing tall with dark wavy hair and the body of a god.  His jaw was perfectly chiseled like a smooth stone and his body filled his armor as if custom made attire designed solely for his wearing.  While staring into speckles of imperfection glistening in his right eye, Countess began prematurely planning her life around him.  After four hours of the greatest passion known to her time, she gathered herself like limp laundry laid across his thrown and made haste into the night air with dreams of perpetual love and romance.
The unexpected, chance meeting was the first of many to follow.  The following day the two met for dinner and laughter at Countess's favorite eatery.  The terms of her expectations were the popular topics, which some accredit for the tragic ending of her tale.  Prince uttered words of non-commitment but his body language and verbalized feelings expressed something less dull.  Countess was agreeable to accept the slow pace of cultivating a growing relationship but refused to join a long list of damsels in distress waiting on the wayside for her dark Prince.

Good food, great conversation, intimate evenings, warm showers, and laughter were elements contributing to what Countess thought was a paragon of a relationship.  She rested her head on his chest and her soul on his shoulders.  Glancing upward in the direction of his face, she hoped for a modicum of sincerity to drip from his lips and eyes, but her hands came up empty each time.  She set aside her ambivalence like a naïve child and held to her aspirations of making Prince the next king of her castle.

After a month or more of bolstering the unsteady foundation, like clock work Countess called to Prince in the assumption that she would spend the evening wrapped in his arms and beauty.  Much to her dismay, he had made other plans for the night.  She had been pushed aside to make room for Prince's former lover.  Her invariable efforts and support suddenly seemed futile.  She tossed and turned all night, making friends with nightmares and hate.  Unable to discern his reasons for tossing her aside the next morn she sent word that he would be censored from her life effective immediately.

The silence lasted more than a week.  Though her intensions were good Countess was left wounded by her own hand.  Chiefly, the goal was to save herself from further pain but coincidently she had inflicted more pain than before.  She was stuck in a quandary about whether life was better with an "almost lover" or alone.    On the morning of her birthday, while dew was still fresh on the grass, she looked threw her pain and tears and decided to make amends with Prince.  At first glance the conversations seemed  awkward but the familiar company was quite refreshing.  After spending the day together she realized no one in the world ever made her feel this way… alive!

Compromising her current situation yet again, Countess chose to allow things back to normal.  Against her better judgment, she dove into intense passion and loved him with her whole heart.  Some say her love lives on but they weren't present at the festival that night.

Many had gathered in costume and masquerade.  The town was dressed in bright colors and dim lights.  The air had cooled off as fall was ready to burst from the seams. Drinking and celebration was forefront on the minds of everyone in the village that night.  Everyone but Prince, that is.  Prince looked deep in her eyes with fear and intimidation in hesitation of what may happen next.  The martini glass filled with joy in Countess's fragile hand was suddenly trembling as her heart sank.  That look could only mean bad news.  Prince sat her down and whispered his confession.

"I've met someone else" was all she needed to hear.  Her mind rushed back to the day he explained that he couldn't love anyone.  He previously insisted that it was simply a bad time in his life.  Why was he saying this?  He continued to apologize for any pain he had caused and ensured he wanted to stay her friend but things would have to change between them.  She only heard muttering and the voice of someone who was no longer speaking a language she understood.  Prince had adulterated everything Countess thought they shared together.

Feeling duped and unable to see thru the tears anymore, she slammed the glass against the concrete wall, shattering the edges.  The joy that formerly filled her glass was spilled on the ground beside his blood.  She, without thought, had driven the jagged glass into her Prince.  He dropped to the floor with practically no emotion.  His face filled with sorrow as tears streamed down his ghostly face at the speed of light.  She held and kissed his hand and spoke no words as she watched the life leave his limp body.  With onlookers of the village standing in shock, Countess threw her own neck to her homemade blade.