The room was dark and the biting wind could be felt through the thin sheets on the creaky bed, but Cassius was warm. He lay there, looking through the frosted window, with a naked, brunette across his chest. The wind sang through the shutters, causing the girl to stir and move away from his body. Cassius took the opportunity to, quietly, emerge from the thin sheet and dress to leave. He had forgotten how his excursion had taken him all the way to the Dark Village, but, after meeting the woman, he didn’t care. He covered himself with his cloak and hat, and slowly opened the door to the single room studio. The door moaned against the wind and the girl stirred yet again, but Cassius wasn’t worried about her waking. After their blurry night, she wouldn’t even remember him in the morning and that was how he wished it.
Cassius made his way up the desolate streets of the Dark Village, the chill slowly creeping into his skin. He thought momentarily if there might be any pubs still open where he could get a bottle for the journey home, but, unfortunately, a man in no more than a thin nightshirt, interrupted his thought. “You got any change, sir?” The man mumbled with an empty mouth. Cassius felt disgust linger on his lip, but he couldn’t quite articulate the words to make the man step away. “What brings you all the way out here? Quite far for your type,” the man shivered in the blowing wind, but he didn’t look cold. “Excuse me, sir, I must be going,” Cassius took a step to the side, but was blocked by another man in a ripped coat. Cassius stumbled backward, too pissed to notice the man was only wearing a single glove and the naked hand was covered in blood. “Gentlemen, I don’t have any money with me. I’m afraid that a night with booze and whores does not keep a man’s pockets full,” he chuckled, oblivious to the situation. The two men looked back and forth from one another and before Cassius could understand, he felt a hard impact to the side of his head, knocking him to the ground. The last image he remembered while lying face down on the icy pavement was the sight of a figure, wearing a black mask, moving toward him. Cassius was too drunk to be afraid, but he felt the cold crawling up his leg.
***
A mask, that was all he could recount from the night before. As Cassius sat up, in the large, velvet chair next to the fire, all he could remember was the mask. He sat alone in the open room, nothing but the crackle of the fire to disturb him. There was a large bump on his head that throbbed when he leaned back, but he didn’t remember how he had received it or how he ended up at his sister’s house without his clothes. He was sweating, not from the fire, but from his body yearning to be seduced with more substance. However, the only thing in his mind’s eye was the mask, long, black, with eyes like birds, perched on the face of its wearer. Did he dream it? He wondered.
Caroline, his sister, walked into the room. She was beautiful, like Cassius, with long chestnut hair, curled in tight ringlets around a large bun. She carried a silver tray, smelling of hot tea and meat pie, awakening Cassius from his trance. “Caroline, so good to see you again. It’s been ages,” Cassius beamed, though only looking at the food. “Yes brother, when was the last I saw you? Still getting yourself into trouble,” she smiled, setting the tray on his lap. He noticed her eyes were dark and her face flushed. He assumed she had come from a quarrel with his brother-in-law, but before he had time enough to ask, two children burst into the room, running to their mother. “Clara! You’ve gotten so big, you’ll soon be a woman,” Cassius smiled at his oldest niece, as she was capturing the toddler. She sat gracefully on the sofa and the toddler crawled out of her arms and into his mother’s. “Victor, do you remember me?” Cassius asked the toddler, who responded by hiding his face in his mother’s bosom. Cassius cooed at the boy while looking about the room, “And where is Henry?” he said to Caroline. She clutched the child nestled into her neck, “Henry died of the fever, Cassius.” Cassius felt forlorn, he had been fond of the boy. “When was this? Why was I not informed?” “No one could find you!” Caroline spoke in unwarranted hostility, “You had disappeared on one of your adventures in the Dark Village.” Cassius removed the tray and stood to walk closer to the fire, hiding his smirking face. He remembered the journey from months ago, the heavy-set blonde, the seamstress, and the Fisherman’s daughter. He had forgotten all of their names, but not their bodies. He also recalled the mask. That was when he had first seen it. He still couldn’t be sure if it was a vision or real.
After a few moments of silence, Caroline asked, “When will you stop these escapades, brother? Father is only getting older, you will inherit the estate eventually and I do not think you will be happy living in that grand house alone.” Still recounting the events of that trip, he replied, “maybe someday, sister, but father isn’t dead yet.” He turned to face his sister who wore a face of mourning. He only just realized that her body was draped in black cloth. “Did you hear what happened to poor Elise? Her husband passed as well,” Caroline added. “No, I didn’t hear that,” Cassius grumbled. He loathed hearing about his former fiancé, even though he had been the one to end the engagement. “You should go give your condolences. You two were quite close,” Caroline urged. “Yes, I must see her, but not today. I have another engagement,” Cassius said as he kissed the children goodbye.
***
Cassius had spent the day idly strolling through the streets, looking for anyone willing to take his mind off the morose news. At last, he had found a girl, no larger than his niece, who had made work for herself in a private house. He spent his money and followed her to the room where he enjoyed a night of forgetfulness and pleasure. The night grew calm as the moans from the adjacent bedrooms were drowned by the winter winds. Cassius slept warmly until he awoke in a sudden burst of sobriety. He was alone in the bed, for the girl had gone to make more earnings, but he did not feel alone. A chill crept across the nape of his neck and he looked toward the dark corner of the room. He heard footsteps crossing the floor toward the bed. His body trembled as the figure drew closer, until, at last, he could make out the form of a mask and the cloak that carried it. Cassius was paralyzed with terror. “What have I done to deserve such torment?” he shook. The figure only moved closer. “Please, dear phantom, answer me.” The figure then moved to the door, never looking away. The figure motioned to him. “I will follow you, shadow, wherever you lead,” Cassius surrendered and slowly made his way out from underneath the covers and into his clothes, never moving his eyes from the masked figure.
Cassius followed through the doors and out onto the streets, where it vanished. He then collapsed, like the breath from his lungs was suddenly gone.
***
The owner of the private house had found Cassius. The man was accustomed to Cassius’s fits and made no remark when he awoke. Cassius, not wanting questions, stood and left the house without a word. His body felt thoroughly uncomfortable, though Cassius never suspected it to be from the excessive wine. He walked down the street, heading to his apartment when he saw what looked to be the masked figure standing on the corner. He ran to it and almost toppled a boy selling newspapers. “Oy! Watch it!” cried the boy. Cassius, too confused by the vanishing figure, ran. He saw it again, just down the street, and chased it. Though, once more, it dissolved into a young woman pushing a carriage into the park. Cassius felt as though he was losing his mind, but each time he saw the figure, his body forced him to follow. The visions persisted throughout the day, never giving Cassius a chance to stop or notice his surroundings until he almost ran straight into the large, metal gate of Elise’s estate. Not seeing the figure, Cassius determined he was meant to be led to the home of his estranged lover.
“Cassius!” Elise exclaimed when she opened the door, “you are the last man I thought I’d ever see,” she smiled that lovely smile Cassius adored. Her hair was done, pulled into the same bun his sister wore the day before and, she too, wore a cloth of black, too loose to see the curves he knew she had. “Elise, I beg your pardon, but I have come to give you my condolences. Arthur was taken too early.” She looked away, “why don’t you come in. I’ll get some tea.”
Before Cassius could object, Elise had walked into the next room. He made his way inside and caught his reflection in a mirror. He looked terrifying, like a corpse. His hair was astray. His clothes were untucked and stained. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he tried to fix himself. “Elise, I do not wish to trouble you with my presence. I should be off,” he called, but she was ahead of him, carrying a tray of tea into the sitting room. “Nonsense. I haven’t had the pleasure of your company for a long time. Grant my wishes and stay for a moment more.” She begged, her eyes mesmerizing Cassius. He almost had forgotten why he had broken off the engagement until he remembered the night they were together. He had a sudden urge to escape the house and find a woman who wouldn’t make him stay.
The two sat in the room, silence lingered awkwardly between them until Elise called, “Fitzroy, come to the sitting room.” A boy, no older than five slumped into the room. Cassius looked in awe at the boy, for he had never seen such a beautiful child. “You have a son?” He asked Elise. “Yes,” she confirmed while combing the boy’s hair with her fingers. “How old is he?” “Five,” she answered. “I did not know. How splendid! Lord Hampton left behind an heir.” Elise’s body moved uncomfortably. She poured herself a cup of tea and sipped at it quietly. Cassius looked again at the boy, chestnut curls framed his cheeks, blue eyes like Elise’s. He did not see Arthur in his features, which delighted Cassius for he thought any child’s of Elise should solely possess her beauty. Though, he recognized the boy in his unenthusiastic pose and his pouting lip. Suddenly, Cassius jumped. Nervous beads of sweat began forming on his neck. Cassius stood and motioned for Elise to come to him. “Is that boy mine?” he asked abruptly. Elise’s body twisted. “Yes, he is,” she confirmed. “How do you know?” Cassius seethed, forcing Elise to coward at his hiss. “Arthur was not a man of good fortune, but he loved Fitzroy as his own. Cassius, you do not have to claim him, but I wanted you to know of him.”
“Why would you want me to know of him, Elise? So he can be eligible to inherit my estate?” Cassius jeered. “No,” Elise faltered, “Since Arthur is gone, I thought the boy should know his father. I’m sorry to have offended you, Cassius.” Without another word, Cassius left, too hostile to think about anything more than a drink. He made his way back to Caroline’s.
***
Cassius stood beside the fire, holding his glass in a shaking hand. “How could you risk her reputation with your selfishness!” Caroline roared. Cassius said nothing. He knew it had been a poor idea to tell her of Fitzroy. Caroline continued with her aspersions until there was a rough knock at the door. Behind the door, Caroline met a messenger. Cassius stood behind her as she opened it. “Cassius, mother and father are dead.” As the two wept over the loss of their beloved parents, Cassius felt a strange chill. He looked up and at the gate stood the masked figure. Cassius screamed at the pain in his head. He shook with fear as his sister tried to calm him, but to no avail. Cassius was tormented by the figure.
***
It was late in the night, though the outside world was bright, as the moon reflected off the white snow. Cassius had settled into the chair by the fire once more. His mind throbbed and he could not sleep. He noticed the masked figure staring at him from the opposite window. Cassius did not jump at his sight but became angry. His blood boiled at the sight of the figure. He jumped from the chair and went out into the cold, his anger keeping his exposed body warm. When he saw the figure once more, it did not vanish. Cassius, startled by this, stopped walking. Instead, he fell to his knees, “Oh, Phantom, what do you ask of me?” It did not reply. “My family is dying around me and you are to blame! Leave me alone! I do not wish anymore torment,” Cassius pleaded. The figure moved closer and closer until Cassius felt a warm, human breath on his face.
Frightened, Cassius fell backward, away from the figure. Yet, it moved closer still, “Cassius!” It called, but its voice was not dark. Cassius crawled away still. “Cassius!” It cried, its voice melodious. Cassius could feel his nightshirt growing heavy as the cold seeped further into his skin. The wind whipped angrily in his ears and they felt as though they were bleeding. “Please, dear phantom,” Cassius mumbled incoherently and, in a fit of hysteria, collapsed, unconscious.
***
Cassius awoke, surrounded by people whom he could not recognize. He felt a prick against his arm and looked down to see a needle expelling the blood from his body into a brass tray. Cassius tried to pull away, but his body was too weak. His extremities burned with pain and his chest was heavy.
“Cassius!” The figure’s voice called in that melodic tone. Cassius looked about the room until he saw Elise's face. “Elise,” Cassius tried to scream, but only a whisper could be heard. She came to him and Cassius noticed Fitzroy was with her. The boy looked horrified, his face tangled in a wretched expression, staring as Cassius’s weak body. “Elise,” he tried calling again. “I’m here, Cassius.” “Where am I?” She looked at him, confused, “Cassius, you came to my home last night. You were only wearing your nightshirt.” Cassius stared, confused. He did not remember ever leaving the grounds of Caroline’s estate, then he saw the figure. It stood silently behind the man drawing Cassius’s blood. “It was him! He brought me here. He left me in the cold to die!” Cassius cried with all his energy. “Cassius, the doctor only just arrived,” Elise said, confused. “No! The phantom! He haunts my days and fills my head with curses,” Cassius began to cry. He saw the figure move to Fitzroy and wrap his cloak around the boy. The child did not move, for only Cassius could see the fate of the child who would never know him. “Forgive me,” Cassius breathed in his final breath.