Hello, I wrote a chapter because KrSplats kind words inspired me.
This is the first part of chapter 49.
I have the rest ready, but I need to type it into my computer as it is handwritten.

I have actually typed another chapter after this and am working on a third one after that. So I will have plenty of stuff and I assure you the third one will really help this story move forward.

I hope me writing something will inspire other people to start writing again as well.


Chapter 49: A gentle push.

She had shown a moment of weakness. In that moment he had chosen a side and had gauged out her eyes.
The brave and young man she had once known and loved had turned into a backstabbing coward. Ooze seeped from the sockets in her face and mixed with her salty tears too form a gruesome make-up.
The white of her eyes pushed to the background as the red took center stage. Her hands clutched for anything solid told hold on too, but she found nothing but air.
Estella crawled through the mud and every time she heard the squishing of the thick, brown substance she was reminded of the sound her eyes had made as they gave in to his strong and penetrating fingers.
She had longed for him to fill her body, but in those fantasies it had always been quiet a different orrifice.
Estella surpressed the urge to laugh for she had more pressing matters to tend too. Slender like a snake in the grass she rose to her feet and put the tip of her thumb in her mouth.
After a little saliva had gathered on it she moved the thumb over her wounded eyes as if annointing herself.
Her eyes started healing and before long she would be able to see again.

She had spent most of her childhood in the large summerhouse at the edge of the thriving town of Orangelia.
Which would, ages from now become a metropolis buzzing with life.
Both of her parents were loving and warm and spoiled her to death.
Little Estella sat at the edge of the lake in front of the house and enjoyed the cool summerbreeze that played with her hair.
Her childish mind free from burden and unaware of how soon things would change for the worst.
Her uncle Henric joined her and handed her a small flower. "A gift for the princess." He said and she laughed as she accepted the daisy.
Henrics eyes went up and down her small and delicate body. She had only recently started to blossom, but the first signs of womanhood were clearly visible against the soft fabric of her favorite dress.
Her mother joined them and gave her daughter a glass of cold apple juice.
"Hello Henric." Her voice was filled with undistinguishable contempt at the sight of the man. "I see your journey went well. I will inform my husband of your arrival."
Edwina Bane motioned for him to follow her and did not see the signs of sadness in his eyes, she was a good judge of character though. And had never really liked her husbands brother.
Henric looked at his niece once more with the hunger in his eyes that only an adult could identify and followed his sister-in-law into the house.
In the hallway he was greeted by the familiar smell of tobacco and Edwinas pot roast.
"Herbert." Henric said before the woman had any change of announcing him properly and he passed her by.
Estellas father got to his feet and both men embraced eachother, glad to see each other again after what seem like a long time.
"My dear brother, I am so happy too see you. How was your journey?" But the cold stare of his brother was enough to make him realize this was not a joyous visit.
"Herbert, I am afraid mother is not well. She would like to see you." The glass of Cognac shook in Herberts hand and he spat his cigar in it.
It hissed as its tip touched the liquid and then died out blowing up small wifs of smoke to say its last goodbye.
"We will have to go immidiatly, we will take the finest horses."
The stable boy prepared the horses for his master and Herbert assured his wife and daughter that he would see them again soon.
He never would.

Henric and Herbert Bane arrived at the house of their mother a mere eight hours later. Hillcrest manor was a beautiful, old place in the middle of Cherryoak wood.
The sun was setting behind the large trees to the West and collosal shadows fell of the trembling men.
Herbert jumped off the horse and ran for the front door. His brother went about calmer about his business and looked after his brother with an expression of pity.
"My mother, how is she?" He asked the maid and he quickly kissed her cheek as a polite, but hastened greeting.
"She is not feeling well, master Herbert. I am afraid she is asleep now, but I will take you to see her."
The maid was an old woman, not far from his mother in years, but as keen and fit as she had been when he was a young boy.
Mrs. Travers had been the maid of the family ever since she was a young girl herself, merely nineteen years of age.
She had grown out to be more then a maid, she was a friend and someone they could all turn to if they needed advice or a shoulder to cry on.
Her room was the second biggest in the house and Herbert, unlike his brother had always been content with this. He loved Mrs. Travers.
"She is better then she was earlier, Sir." Marsh Travers said with a glint of hope in her eyes. "I just gave her a cup of soup and she happily ate all of it."
They arrived in one of the guestrooms downstairs. It would be easier to take care of her here since her own room was rather far away in a corner of the east wing and the stairs were more and more difficult for the old maid to handle.
Many candles were lit and it gave the room a cozy feel. The fragile woman in the bed looked nothing like the woman he had known and loved for years.
Her boney hands crossed across her chest and her skeletal features only covered by the thinnest layer of skin through which her thin veins were clearly visible.
"Your sons are here Violet." Mrs Travers smiled at Herbert. "She seems to be awake, but she does not talk much. It requires a lot of energy, which she does not have right now."
Herbert nodded and walked towards his mother. "I will be in the lounge if you need me, Sir." And with these words Marsha left them alone, her eyes were wet and the fur underneath them showed small trails where the tears had rolled down.
Violet Bane looked up at her favorite son. She would never make this claim, but had always felt it in her heart.
"I am so glad to see you, my boy." Her voice was delicate and soft and her little blue eyes sparkled. She was truly happy to see him.
Henric peered around the corner and a flame in his was ignited, she had not even acknowledged that he was here. He closed the door and if they had not been so lost in their conversation they would have heard him lock the door from the outside.

Henric was always the least favorite son. Where Herbert would receive two hugs before they would fall asleep, he would get one.
And he hated his brother for it. In his mind, their over-affection for him had made Herbert the man he is today. A rich landowner with more money than would fit in his enormous house. Love by the people and blessed with a beautiful family.
And their lack of affection had turned him into what he is. The silent pervert, hungry for revenge, wealth and power. Never really good at anything.
Not today, though. Today he would show them all how good he was, how brilliant.
Henric walked towards the kitchen. From here he had a good view of the salon where poor Mrs. Travers was taking a nap.
He felt sorry for her. Spending so much time on other people without hardly ever taking any time for herself. Feel sorry was not part of his plan however and he quickly put those feelings aside.
On the table lay a cleaver she had used to cut up the vegetables for the stew. He picked it up and held it in the light that was cast by a small gaslamp.
The gleam it cast fell on his sad face. He would not have joy in what he was about to do, this was strictly business. The joy would come later.
Mrs. Travers was sound asleep. He looked over her, the woman he had known his entire life. She looked so peaceful.
The golden locket her husband had given her before his death slowly moved up and down on her chest. Henric gave her a soft kiss on the forehead. "Goodbye Mrs. Travers."
He swung the blade through the air and planted it firmly in her neck. Her eyes flew open and she tried to scream. A gruesome sound escaped her as she gurgled up, thick blood.
Not very experienced, but precisely he had managed to hit her artery and a thick stream of red liquid painted the floor a deep, dark red.
Mrs. Travers hand reached out to him and her tongue fell out of her mouth. Her horrible eyes were fixed on him and he looked away for a moment to regain his strength.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He could not stand to see her suffer and swung again.
The cleaver burried itself between her eyes. She shuddered and her legs twitched forcefully. Then it was over.
The cleaver fell from his hand and landed on the carpet with a dull thud.
He had made his first victim, but he had no time to stand here and mourn the loss of another bit of his sanity. Two more people would die tonight.
Henric took a large key ring from the belt around the maids mangled body. Her arm hang over the edge of the couch and droplets of blood formed at the tip of her middle finger.
They fell down on the carpet, creating a small pool. The disturbed man managed to look away from this macabre scene and hurried towards the shed behind the house.
Inside of it he found exactly what he was looking for. "Highly flammable." A smile curled up his lips and made him look even less attractive than his usual self.
He took two cans of the substance. They were heavy, but his goal was so close now, Henric would finally win for the first time in his life.
One of the cans he put in front of the door to his mothers guest room, he heard the faint sounds of their conversation. The last conversation this mother and her favorite son would ever have.
The other can he took with him to the lounge.
He took his wallet out of his jacket and threw the several bills inside of it on Mrs. Travers body, before soaking it in oil. It was all part of his grand scheme.
Oil poured in a small trail out of the can between the couch in the Salon, through the kitchen and all the way to the hall. The trail ended at the second can, which would cause a beautiful show of fireworks.
Henric walked back to Mrs. Travers once more, too say his farewells to her and too finish the job.
He took a cigarette from his pocket and a small book of matches. He lit a match and the hungry fire eagerly ate away the thin wood. He held it under his cigarette and took a deep and satisfying drag when the tip of the it started smoldering.
"Ashes to ashes." Henric muttered and dropped the burning match on the corpse of his favorite maid.
The flames slowly but surely spread across the body. Like an explorer discovering new land and claiming it for the glory of the nation.
Henric walked outside, leaving the flames behind. In search of a safe place, with a decent view of the happenings.
The flames reached the hallway.