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    The Keys: A Gothic Re-Telling of Bluebeard
    The Keys: A Gothic Re-Telling of Bluebeard
    The Keys: A Gothic Re-Telling of Bluebeard
    Ebook36 pages21 minutes

    The Keys: A Gothic Re-Telling of Bluebeard

    By Alyne de Winter

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    About this ebook

    "As his dark closet shows, Bluebeard was a collector at heart,
    and even after dispatching a wife, could not let her fully depart."
    ― Shuli Barzilai,
     
    This is a Kindle Short inspired by the Fairy Tale, Bluebeard.
    Having barely survived the terrors of the French Revolution, 16 year old Lisette is married off to a mysterious aristocrat who has escaped to the Caribbean island of Iati. The house is luxurious, yet foreboding. Lisette's love for her husband is soon marred by loneliness, forbidden rooms, and the ever-beckoning music of the keys…

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAlyne de Winter
    Release dateMar 6, 2019
    ISBN9781386034469
    The Keys: A Gothic Re-Telling of Bluebeard

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      Book preview

      The Keys - Alyne de Winter

      As his dark closet shows, Bluebeard was a collector at heart,

      and even after dispatching a wife, could not let her fully depart."

      ― Shuli Barzilai

      The Keys

      A Gothic Re-Telling of Bluebeard with Zombies

      I was only six when Mamma and Papa first took me to the Paris Opera to see a concert by the famous pianist Monsieur Armand Guy de Rais. The moment he arrived on the stage, tall and gorgeous, with his wild blue-black hair and dark, sparkling eyes, I was smitten. Sitting at the jaws of a glossy beast of a piano, Monsieur played with such fire that my innocent soul was branded forever with the agony of passion. Mamma recalls me shaking and spattering my dress of cameo colored silk with tears. She chided me, but I’d been so seized by the violent beauty of his music, by his long fingers flying over the keys, yet touching them with exquisite tenderness, that I did not hear her. I couldn’t believe it when he suddenly stood up and bowed for the applause. I tugged my mother’s sleeve: Is it over? It can’t possibly be over. Suddenly everyone was towering above me clapping and shouting Bravo! leaving me in the dark, my view of Monsieur blocked by coat tails and voluminous gowns.

      Nine years later, we had to flee Paris. The rabble had broken into the Bastille. Fear swept us all out of the city on one giant wave. Mamma and I ended up in Brittany to stay with distant cousins while Papa remained to protect his house and treasure.  Those were days of great idleness for me. Even after so many years, Monsieur Armand remained

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