The Twisted Revenge of the Chester Twins

In the cobbled streets of Chester, the winter had been cruel. The Hartwell Twins; Eleanor and Isaac; they looked identical, just the opposite gender, Eleanor had long red hair, her blueish greenish eyes shined like stars, her face was full of freckles, she wore a light baby blue winter outfit; what she wore the day their parents died. Isaac had not long hair but his hair wasn’t short either, his hair wasn’t the same tone as Eleanor’s, his hair was a more darker red, the freckles on his face were more scattered. They had been left to fend for themselves after their parents’ sudden deaths in an accident. They’d grown up in the shadow of the city’s ancient walls, surviving on scraps and the kindness of a few locals. But when a local landlady; A woman with blonde curly hair, blueish eyes, a posh look on her face, she wore herself a fluffy gown, the address was clearly made for winter; her name was Mrs. Gable, who accused them of stealing her valued prized silver locket, when Mrs. Gable took this to the Coppa’s. The police took their side. The twins were locked up for a week, then released, however not before Eleanor was beaten and Isaac was left with a fractured arm due to the cruel people ’round then who gathered.

They then left Chester that night, they didn’t intend to return, or at least that’s what they thought. Years later, in a forgotten, abandoned cellar beneath a derelict mill, they were found by a mysterious stranger in a long coat. He offered them a choice: die in the cold, or be revived; however, there was a twist; the twist was only if they swore to seek revenge on everyone who had wronged them. In which, after a day of thinking, they agreed.

When they awoke, they were in a small, cluttered flat in Chester, dressed in old clothes, with no memory of the past. But they remembered the faces — Mrs. Gable’s sharp eyes, her posh face, the constable who’d arrested them, the shopkeeper who’d laughed at their poverty. They began to plot. First, they targeted Mrs. Gable. They left her a note in her shop window: “You took my sister’s locket. You took my brother’s life. You will pay.” The next day, she was found dead in her bed, the locket still on her chest. The police blamed a burglar who could’ve broken in after they found no evidence.

Then came the constable. They left him a photograph of the night of the arrest, with a single sentence: “You let them go. You let them live.” The next week, he was dismissed from the force. The shopkeeper was next. They left him a copy of the shop’s ledger, with a red mark on the page where they’d been accused. The next morning, the shop was burned to the ground. Each act was meticulous yet marvelous; no overt violence, just calculated sabotage. They left clues, taunts, and evidence that pointed to the wrong people. The townsfolk whispered of a ghost haunting Chester, of a curse on the Hartwell name. But the revenge was not yet complete. They had one more target: the man who’d laughed at them in the shop, the one who’d said, “You’re nothing but beggars."He was the one who’d made them feel like outcasts. They found him in a pub, drinking alone. They left him a single coin on the table, with a note: “You made me hate this place. I will make you hate it forever.” The next day, he was found dead in the alley behind the pub, the coin still on the table. The twins never spoke of what happened after that. They disappeared from Chester, leaving only the whispers of a twisted revenge that had turned the city’s streets into a place of fear and suspicion. And somewhere, in the cold, damp cellar beneath the mill, the stranger in the long coat watched them go and smiled, proud, they had gotten their revenge on those who wronged them and that, just that made him proud.