The nightgown swept across the dust covered floor as a masked woman made her way to the open window. Clear, transparent pink drapes swept up in the wind as the snow flew into the room. She was shivering, no doubt from the cold brisk night. Tisking her tongue against the roof of her mouth, she slammed the window shut once and for all.

With the weight of a heavy heart, she returned to bed; old and tired. Nothing was left to wait for, now that her window was closed. Kicking off the slippers that warmed her toes, she crawled under the many comforters that were to be admired on the top of her bed. Hugging her knees to her chest she let out a loud sob.

Looking to the window, she let out a shrill cry. There the drapes hung at a standstill, silent and dead. Fluttering in the wind they seemed alive, spirits dancing in the faint glow of the night; but now they were heavy and dark. No light shown through the heavy fabric.

A hand shot up to her neck, clawing for life. Gasping she closed her eyes in fear. It was gone. Sitting up with disheveled hair, she searched the room, her eyes catching no sign of it. With the flick of her wrist, a match came to life. Lighting a lone candle, she saw the glint of gold on the floor.

Slipping into the once warm slippers, she made her way to the window. Bending over her fingers wrapped around a golden heart. With steady hands she opened the clasp, smiling at the face she had grown so accustomed to. Mumbling words of love, she hung her head letting a few wild tears run rabid down her face. They landed on the dusty floor, dotting it with little black puddles of forgotten dreams.

She pressed her pale palm to her chest, letting out a sigh filled with compassion. The crinkles in her face twisted up into an image of pure bliss, and the memories of the past swept her up into the wind, waltzing around the room as though it were only yesterday. It was only yesterday to her, to love with such emotion, such heart; it is not something the heart may will away at any point.

Darkness fluttered through the room, matching the frail woman's despair. Her old smile stared at the necklace, "What would I give to go back just a day, and hold my love in my arms once more. What would I give, to hear the sorrows of his voice once more. Haunt me no longer, kindred spirit, for I can no longer bare the pain. Take all that I love away, for his eyes will haunt me no more."

There was a silence that passed through the air, a mutual agreement that what was to come and what had come to pass were nothing more that part of this masked woman's life. She held herself tall, proud of what she could only imagine as a full life. Downstairs her children slept in peace, unaware of the foul play in the night.

"Love hath you brought me the end I crave?" the woman gasped, staring at the dancing shadows of the curtains.

The shadows seeped together behind the frail piece of humanity, building a tower of impending doom, morphing into the dreams of children, the foul beasts of the darkness. Her mouth formed a small circle as she turned to glance at the impending doom, dropping the locket as her eyes met the shadows. "You," she pressed on, "You are not my Henry! Be gone you foul beast! Back to hell with you!"

There was no movement for some time. The shadows surrounded this woman with fear, clutching at the very thing she held dear. "It is time for all good things to end," the shadows poured into the night, "For we all cannot waste away in our despair. There is no longer a place here for you, nor the child who wished ill fate to me and my kind. It was your lover who killed my love, my power, my city. Revenge, my last step, my last need in this world. And it starts with you."

Blood seeped into the cracks of the wood planks of the floor. The red rust bleed through the grains, slowing in speed as its source emptied. The woman’s eyes rolled backward, her head splitting across the floor. In the moonlight, a necklace sparkled in the pool of crimson. A Hakenkreuz lay limp, still connected to the chain, still as black as the death it had taken.