Augusta was the epitome of southern belles; from the blonde of her hair and her impeccable manners to her irresistible charm and her carefree smile, she embodied the perfect southern woman. Augusta was the type of person who effortlessly glided through life, making friends, losing friends, but still staying true to herself. She was the beatific prom queen that sincerely deserved to be recognized because of her Samaritan personality. Augusta was the type of girl who you’d imagine singing in the woods, surrounded by peaceful woodland creatures. A modern day Snow White, she cared for all kinds of people and fed many a mouth at the soup kitchen on the weekends.
Yet she hid more beneath that pretty face than kindness and poise: as per her namesake, the desire to rule as the unquestionable and unchallenged ruler fed her willingness to do anything to get what she wanted. When it was little, it meant stealing from the grocery store when her mother wouldn’t buy her candy. When she got older, she learned to control, but not snuff out her ever present need to be the leader. Student body president, head of the fundraisers for orphans at her church, desert manager at the soup kitchen, and finally prom queen. All her titles, but not all were given fairly harmless venues to try and satisfy the devilish fire that still burned inside her appealing blonde façade.
The Admiral wasn’t born an Admiral, but he was born to be one. His mother always said from the moment he could walk, he marched. The Admiral was regal, stately, and commanded respect from every and all living creatures since growing into his teens. When the curtains were drawn and his guard was down, the steady poker face transformed into an infectious grin. If you knew him well enough, the Admiral could tell you a joke and have you laughing for days. His demeanor was calm and open, as if he expected you to put your trust in him, and you didn’t even think twice about it. He listened as if the world around him, all the distractions and deterrent, had disappeared.
But the Admiral had a secret side, only shown to those he trusted most of all. Anger coursed through his veins like the Euphrates’ River ran through ancient Sumer, cutting through the desert like a scarred childhood wound left from nostalgic days of play. His fractured heart stemmed from a merciless father raised in the military system of rigid discipline and honor; everything from grades to behavior in church not only affected your personal status, but also that of your family. Consequently, life was a constant show of artificial perfection, the Admiral playing his steadfast part of the reserved teen with charming confidence. You would never know a black widow of feelings creeped below the surface of his plastic exterior, awaiting a victim to inject with its deadly poison of pent-up emotions.
The two had met the summer after he joined the navy; her, a college bound local beauty and him, a uniformed teen glowing with newfound maturity. Augusta’s friend Emily was dating the Admiral’s best friend, and after a bit of persuading, both agreed to come along on a blind date accompanying their friends.The day was as lovely as it gets, the blue skies complementing the white of the clouds, the warmness of the sun, and the sway of the summer breeze. The words “love at first sight” were nothing compared to what these two people felt when seeing each other for the first time. Augusta was entranced by his dark hair, striking blue eyes, and his monarchial manner. He was similarly captivated by her magnetic personality: light seemed to be attracted to her and pooled around, drawing in everyone and receiving endless smiles from all.
A summer’s worth of dates later, they vowed to meet again after she finished college. 4 years and 5 months later, they were married, and she moved on base to begin her life as a navy wife.
The couple lived in a three story white plantation house by the Charleston harbor, resting on a grassy hill shaded by ancient oak trees. The seemingly endless October blue skies covered the harbor like a woolen blanket as the sun burst through the trees, playing peek-a-boo with her eyes. A light breeze playfully tugged on Augusta’s flowered dress as she knelt in the garden surrounding the white house on the grassy hill. She smiled as she spied Lieutenant George Mason walking up the gravel drive. Augusta rose with gradually, the struggle revealing her seasoned age, and strode down the drive to meet him. Even after all these years, she still walked with a gait confident enough to intimidate the bravest of soldiers.
Her stomach turned to ice as hoards of frozen spiders crawled from her abdomen to her mouth, making her unable to form a coherent sentence. Lieutenant Mason’s brown eyes were riddled with grief and as soon as she saw him, her instincts confirmed his horrid truth. “The Admiral was a brave man. I knew him well and I know he loved you. I’m very sorry for your loss.” He said nothing when the tear rolled down her cheek and simply hugged her when she broke down. She cried into his strong arms, believing she was alone in this cruel world. The Admiral had his problems, she admitted, but she knew he loved her as much as she adored him. Their love was ever strong, something that couldn’t be broken with fits of anger or stubbornness. It shouldn’t be like this. It couldn’t be like this.
He led her up the front stairs of the white house on the grassy hill and through the doorway.
Her screams shattered the placid silence of the waterfront. The sticky red blood stained the goose-feather comforter as her hand fell limp against the bed.
As calmly as he sauntered in, the man in the white dress uniforms sauntered down the driveway and into his truck. A mask revelation coupled with the removal of colored contacts showed the true murderer of Augusta. His maniacal laugh echoed down the empty street as he took one last look at the white house on the grassy hill. The Admiral was back.