Livermore, CA
Standing there with the pensive look she often had before creating a masterpiece; Scarlet dipped her paintbrush into the crimson oil and pressed it gently against the canvas. The first chords of Gnossienne No. 1 echoed through the great room, breathing life to her new painting.
At age 22, Scarlet Thornfield was an up-and-coming artist with immense talent mirroring that of other late 19th century painters. Her sister Olivia was a musical prodigy at the age of seven. Together, the two sisters worked their divine crafts in harmony as the harsh winter storm blanketed their home with fresh snow. That is, until they heard pounding from outside.
Scarlet opened the door, shocked to see her friend, Emma St. Claire. As she hurried inside, flurries of snow followed creating a mound of slush in the entryway.
“Goodness! What reason brings you out in such grim weather, friend?!”
Emma removed her coat and pulled a note from her satchel. Her long dress and bustle had seen better days. It was obvious something urgent was at hand. Emma looked left and then right, and then leaned in.
“I simply had to tell you this in person,” Emma whispered, “Couldn’t risk old Margaret reading this message for you.”
Margaret was Scarlet’s aunt who was notorious for gossip and lived in the apartment above her Victorian home. Emma handed Scarlet the note with the words, Aurora of the Forest inked in black.
“I saw her last week – she’s a psychic! Said I’d get a wealthy fortune… In days that followed, I’d learn of inheriting my uncle’s estate!”
Scarlet was shocked to hear this, but also curious what her own future looked like. She bid her farewell as Emma headed back into town on horse.
By morning, the blizzard that ravaged the night before could only be seen in sheets of white snow everywhere. A fine enough day as any for a stroll to the forest. Bundled in her warmest winter attire, Scarlet found her way to the brook and over the bridge, as the directions from Emma were clear. Then she saw the cottage. The door flung open before she could knock. A mysterious older woman with long silver hair greeted her.
“Come in, Scarlet. I’ve been waiting for you. Have a seat,” The woman said, pointing to a chair at the table with a crystal ball. “I see your future, dear. You will meet a man and fall madly in love. He will whisk you away and give you a beautiful family.”
Scarlet thanked the woman and handed her two coins as she left the cottage. Overcome with excitement at the thought of her future love, she smiled all the way home through the forest.
Three days following her encounter in the forest, she pulled up to the curb in a horse-drawn carriage, her most applauded paintings in tow. Tonight was Scarlet’s artistic debut at the renowned art gallery downtown.
She stood in awe at the sight of her work adorning the walls in a collection of her most favorite things. Burnt umber horses, emerald foliage, and of course, her signature, crimson rose.
“The wand is to a wizard as the paintbrush is to a madman,” a deep voice from behind her whispered softly.
When she turned around, she nearly lost her breath. A tall man with dark hair stood before her. At first glance, it felt as if his icy gray eyes were penetrating her soul. Her heart was elated, and she felt a tingling of butterflies in the pit of her stomach. The sound of her sister’s eloquent piano skills offered a lifeline from his hypnotizing gaze.
“Thank you, I will take that as a complement,” Scarlet smiled coyly.
“I’ve admired your work for some time. You’re incredible, Scarlet,” he paused raising her hand to his lips for a kiss. “I’d like to know everything about you.”
Scarlet blushed as she had never felt such admiration from a man she fancied before. “I’d love to, but I don’t even know your name.”
“How rude of me. My name is Talon.”
Scarlet curtsied as he tipped his hat to her in proper greeting. They shared another long moment, looking deeply into each other’s eyes. Scarlet believed what the psychic foretold her was coming true.
“Well, Talon, I am in need of an escort home. Would you like to join me?” She hoped he would say yes.
“I’d love to,” he whispered.
On the ride home, they discussed their love of poetry, music, and art. The carriage came to a halt outside the gate to her property.
“Walk me to the door?” She asked him, knowing she wanted more.
Holding hands, they walked up the driveway to her home. When they reached the doorstep, she leaned in and shared a passionate kiss under the moonlight. Talon lowered his jaw, biting her neck as if to quench a desperate thirst.
Scarlet collapsed in his arms as two large black feathered wings, spanning 12-feet wide extended from his back. He cradled her body in his arms and flew off into the night sky until he reached his castle, nestled in the mountainside.
“Here, children,” Talon lowered her to the ground.
Scarlet lay there lifeless, yet still breathing.
“I brought you a mother.”
