Her Marie Antoinette wig felt heavy. How did they stand those wigs for hours in King Louis’ court? Her red painted mask, decorated with faux black diamonds, covered half her face. Her red dress would have done her proud at any royal ball in Versailles.
This was not the 18th century but now, a fund raiser for the local hospital.
She was neither a contributor or a guest but had snuck in through the hotel kitchen to where they were feasting and dancing.
She’d planned every step. She succeeded in getting Dr. Adler out on the balcony. As he moved to kiss her, she’d stuck the knife into his stomach and twisted it.
He fell.
She entered through the double doors into the main ballroom to head for the exit.
The blood matched her dress. No one would ever remember that she had been there and even if they did, they had no idea who she was.
But simultaneously, her mask slipped to the ground as Dr. Adler staggered into the room to the shocked silence of the attendees.
******
I am part of a group that writes one piece of flash fiction a day to a prompt. Today's prompt was a broken mask. Flash fiction is a complete story under 750 words.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment