The Silver Candle

Antoinette Mason was thinking about Edward Rochester again. Edward was a cruel brute with ugly hands and lithe hair.

Antoinette walked over to the window and reflected on her gloomy surroundings. She had always hated old Thornfield Hall with its drab, dark dark windows. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel angry.

Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the a cruel figure of Edward Rochester.

Antoinette gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a cultured, loyal, wine drinker with tall hands and slim hair. Her friends saw her as a giant, gentle goddess. Once, she had even brought a handsome kitten back from the brink of death.

But not even a cultured person who had once brought a handsome kitten back from the brink of death, was prepared for what Edward had in store today.

The storm teased like running crows, making Antoinette depressed. Antoinette grabbed a silver candle that had been strewn nearby; she massaged it with her fingers.

As Antoinette stepped outside and Edward came closer, she could see the heavy smile on his face.

Edward glared with all the wrath of 395 passionate disturbed dogs. He said, in hushed tones, "I hate you and I want obedience."

Antoinette looked back, even more depressed and still fingering the silver candle. "Edward, I hate you," she replied.

They looked at each other with disgusted feelings, like two old, obnoxious owls arguing at a very vidictive battle, which had opera music playing in the background and two passionate uncles dancing to the beat.

Suddenly, Edward lunged forward and tried to punch Antoinette in the face. Quickly, Antoinette grabbed the silver candle and brought it down on Edward's skull.

Edward's ugly hands trembled and his lithe hair wobbled. He looked bitter, his emotions raw like a big, bloody book.

Then he let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Edward Rochester was dead.

Antoinette Mason went back inside and made herself a nice glass of wine.