The Light

Fingers coiled along the handle, the white wax clumping in thick trickles as the heat warmed the stick as the fire drew warm like the sun the glowing ray lead the way. In promenade she walked, heels grating along the cobblestone. The echo beckoning for the students to arrive. The chipping paint shaved the edges of the walls as the narrow hallway lead the mistress to the stage, the classroom. Tattered red drapes once elegant and refined, a young woman flowing within her prime, now aged, an old lifeless maid alone with no audience. Crystal chandeliers sparkled with cobwebs as each row empty with no adoring fans. She stepped onto the creaky steps as she walked along the oak floorboards. She stood, the hand ahead, the candle lighting the abyss. The angel within hells gates blocking the crimson and ash.

She wore a red strapless gown. Her curved outline embraced within the silk. A white fur shawl wrapped around her naked shoulders as her blonde locks were pined into a tight bun. Blood red lips drew into a slender smile as her pale blue eyes looked out into the unknown. This was her home, unfamiliar territory which soon would be dubbed hers.

A headmistress with no students, no pupils no purpose. A muted film was being made as she walked in silence. In awe she called to the darkness in hopes that figures would merge. Patience would lead the willing to her, as they sign their signature to her Code Of Conduct. This is her world. Welcome to all.