rossi | 3. Once Upon A Midnight Dreary.

January 19, 2009

The bottle of cognac was capped and placed at the bottom of the headstone, amidst the three red roses. The figure, dressed in a long black cloak with a hat and scarf hiding the face, bowed his head for a moment before slipping away through the cemetery. Behind him, cameras flashed, accompanied by the murmur of voices.

He took a few random twists and turns, to be sure that no enterprising fan was tailing him, before removing the hat and scarf and entering a small bar. At a table in the back sat another man, young and pale, his dark hair cut short and a glass of wine in front of him.

"So," he said as his companion removed the cloak and sat, revealing a melancholy-faced man in his thirties. "You're done with your little ritual?"

"It's not 'a little ritual'," came the insulted retort. "It's a symbolic gesture. I would have thought you of all people would understand that, George."

"Don't call me George. If you insist on using a Christian name, Edgar, at least call me Noel." George - or Noel - leaned forward. "And symbolic it might be, but it's dangerous. What if those devoted fans decide one year they want to see what's under the disguise? They don't burn witches any more, but I dare say they'd make an exception for us."

"Noel was a name you adopted to earn an inheritance." Edgar waved his companion's spluttering aside. "And perhaps you're right, it is dangerous. I just... it is something I needed to do."

"It's been sixty years, Edgar. Sixty years of cognac and roses. Time to let it go." George picked up his wine and swirled it around in the glass a little before taking a sip. "So, how does it feel to be two hundred?"

"No different to being one hundred. Or fifty, for that matter." Edgar sighed. "I wish I knew why we were still here. We died Byron. We should be lying rotting in our coffins. Food for worms."

"That's what I like about you, Edgar. You're always so cheerful." Byron - Lord Byron, poet, rake and rapscallion - chuckled. "Ours is not to wonder why. We live, is that not enough?"

Edgar sighed, and signalled for a drink. "It will have to be, for now. Let us drink, then. To the Poe Toaster and his last toast."

January 19, 2010

The End.