Le Baiser de la Mort

The Kiss of Death Short syncopated clopping echoed throughout the desolate ally ways that wound through the dark outer limits of Bordeaux, France. An eerie stillness hung in the air, and at the same time, an unsettling anticipation. The lanky coachman lashed out at his team of horses, who already pushed on in an uneasy canter. Rain drizzled lazily from a dreary sky; a grave contrast to the surreal restlessness that consumed the inhabitants of …

…ted features, his temples pulsing. Knowing he could not save himself, he thought only of revenge upon his ungrateful wife. He called together his cortege and made his way to the stables. There, as the first streaks of daybreak shone crimson and purple across a newly lit morning sky, the duchess awoke. Standing above her, his face twisted into a smile, was the Duke. He embraced her and kissed her passionately. A kiss of death.