DEATH THE MASQUERADE

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CHAPTER TWO: LUCIENDA'S DRIVER

AUGUST 1ST 2017

Lucienda walked from the cemetery in morbid silence. Of her family, she was now alone.

The girl now twenty- five years in age, she was the soul inheritor of her father’s estate.

Lucienda’s driver, he was as a tall and square shouldered medium build man with an heir of personal quietness upon him that many an individual do not commit to.

Gregory his name, the driver opened the door to Luciendia’s Cadillac limousine with no words to offer her.

“Thank you Gregory.....”

“..... Yes Miss Estevan.....”

“..... Call me Lucienda?”

“As you wish Lucienda..... Mind, Ma’am; that I call you Lucy?”

“..... My father used to call me Lucy.....”

“Beg pardon Ma’am?”

“..... How long have you been with us Gregory?”

The elderly driver in his earlier eighties peered back upon the woman in the rear view mirror.

“..... It has been about thirty- six years Ma’am, Lucienda.....”

“That’s alright Gregory, you may call me Lucy..... Just do me a favor?”

“Lucy?”

“Hang on for another eight to ten years?”

The driver smiled wide.

“..... I shall do my very best Madame Lucy.....”

“Thank you Gregory.....”


The manor house, it felt to Lucienda as being a place of lost memories. One that had stood the test of time and still replays the past as she once looked upon it.

From one room to the next, she recollected on the past. Her mother, she had wanted Lucy to look to the future and leave the past behind. Lucy’s father, he was all about keeping past memories alive.

Lucienda, she did not like the thought of living in the family manor alone. Even Gregory had his own place that was within walking distance of the grounds where stood her family’s estate.

Lucy immediately considered the possibility of acquiring servants. Her parents, they would not at all confer on these wishes; though equally important to them was the fact that they did not want her to live alone.

Her financial security, as it was passed down to her by her mother and her father, it was provided for. Her fathers’ business, a multiple share holdings corporation that was now under her control.

The job she now worked remotely from the comfort of her father’s office was that of the provisioning of hospitals with necessary life-saving implements of emergency surgical needs. From scalpels to bone chisels, forceps and syringes; to packs for the storage of blood and medicines, you name it; her corporation manufactured and sold it.

The office having everything she needs to conduct business on a daily routine.

Today, and for the next three to four days, Lucienda was to be left alone to grieve. Her phone flashed multiple messages that were reaching out to her that they may be listened to. Instead, Lucy turned off the machine. The twenty- five year old Spanish American woman looked down upon her mother and fathers’ only picture together as she took up position in the chair behind her father’s desk.

Past memories, they flooded in on her thoughts. Lucienda sprawled her arms out across her father’s desk, the woman dozing off to sleep. Exhaustion of these last few days’ challenges finally taking their toll.


More than a morbid curiosity, the masquerade played upon the woman’s dreams. Her family and friends of many days past gathering within the ballroom to watch as her mother and her father began to dance.

The music favored of her mother’s choosing: The Masquerade Waltz 1941 by Armenia, this was the musical serenade that continued to play.

The gathered were toasting each other with glasses of blood. The family having many a dark unknown secret that would die with the last of their line.

Lucienda stood with them. The sleeping woman watching the dance through her dreams. The first glass to be shared with her, for it was her time to guard the weaves.


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