Running for the light, Lily Barconi knew that it was impossible to deny her fate any longer. For centuries long gone her family had possessed a terrible secret—one even they didn’t know about. Few believed that such a thing could be possible; after all, the twenty-first century brought logical explanations to most everything imaginable. Still, Lily Barconi, racing through the alley, knew that she was not alone…

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Inevitably the consequence of selfishness and greed,
A curse upon the family lore was planted in its seed.
Upon the hour between two days a decision had been made
To kill the reincarnate the wickedness had laid.
For centuries more disbelief shrouded the ulterior sect,
Until came the life of Lilian the Resurrect...

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Lily Barconi reached the end of the Venetian alley and slammed into the air. The molecules had formed a barrier she could not pass through, and they all began to darken, hiding all light that came from the shops nearby.

Damn it all! Lily swore as she saw the same happening to the other end of the alley. It didn’t matter if she believed in magic or not; it certainly believed in her. Lily knew she was trapped: no way to escape, no way to scream for help. It was just her and the moon, which grew increasingly redder, until it was a blood crimson.

Lily Barconi did not feel like she was alone. Something told her of a presence in the alley with her. The blood pounding in her ears, she turned around and came face-to-face with her death…

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Wed into the family of Barconi, rich and fair,
Lilian met a tragedy believing her it would spare.
In the majesty of Venice the family settled down,
Unaware of the horror that would affect la vita of the town.
Sweeping across the regions, reaching far and wide,
In the hands of la morte nera many quickly died.
Inside their manor large the Barconis themselves hid,
Until the parents happily did la morte rid.
From those bodies the pathogens left to more infect,
Bringing to an end those for hiding did elect.
Afraid to die a lonely death, Lilian bravely fled
Through alleys of Venetian praise as the moon grew red.
Tears streaking her complexion, Lilian was stiff as a seta
Due to the sudden confrontation with her own vita…

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Brooding and ominous, Lily Barconi’s shadow detached from the wall and grinner at her. Devilish teeth flashed in the moonlight, turned blood red in the glow. But despite the gruesome, terrifying affair she was living, Lily was unafraid—at least, for the time being. For some reason she felt sticky tears running down her cheeks, but none were there. It just confused the woman even more.

Not yet thirty, Lily had devoted her college time and career to the arts of the paranormal. Delving into mysterious legends and secrets, she believed she would come across her own enigma.

The shadow—Lily’s death—was just a black abyss with red eyes and matching teeth. When he spoke, it was with a low, tumultuous growl that the words were issued. “I warned you…Lilian,” he snarled, pronouncing her name with a crisp finality. “I warned you, and yet you turned me away. I have higher authorities I must obey; you cannot escape me now.”

Lily watched her death with a blank expression on her face, taking in every word very delicately, so as not to harm them.

“My dear,” the shadow said, “welcome to your death…”

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Astonishment arose within the woman’s glistening soul
As the beauteous figure held out hands pale and dull.
Immersed in body full, her vita was the palest white;
An angel from herself, but still bringing Lilian a fright.
“Thou likest me not; thou art afraid, though not I know why.”
The angel’s voice was a memory trove, delivered in a cry.
Lilian wiped back the tears, finding courage to borrow:
“I am aboard a chariot ablaze with all sorrow.”
The angel—her vita—understood, giving a friendly grin:
“Thou wilt be saved, for thou has not been with sin.
Use the light in thy soul to hear what the prophets say,
And heed the warnings at this ending of day.
Release thine voice like a lark, explain thine frights;
For thee I wilt protect from the darkest of nights…”

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Truth be told, Lily did find her secret in a Venetian library. Researching the Black Death, she came across a chapter devoted especially to survivors and what became of their lives. One of the depicted women looked exactly like Lily: long, flowing black hair; round, light-colored eyes; and a face looking like a heart. Lily almost fell into cardiac arrest when she read the information about the woman: Lilian Marie Barconi. Same name. Same birthday. Same features.

Back in the alley, Lily was lost for words. “I…I don’t know what you mean,” she managed. She was still able to hold back her fear, though it felt like somehow she wasn’t.

The shadow—the death—snickered in Lily’s face. “You’re making the choice as we speak. Do you not understand the way time works? It doesn’t. Time happens in any order, any way, any length it wants. And it all exists spontaneously. You’re living in a world where your past is tomorrow. Here things are run by how they are felt.”

Lily raised a brow. She understood, but at the same time, she didn’t. “What do you mean I’m ‘making the choice’? What ‘choice’ are you talking about?”

Again the death snickered. “I offered you a chance to live again, to live anew. But you wouldn’t trust me. Now you must pay…”

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“Fear not,” the angel said. “Thee I will do no wrong.
Thy soul I wilt protect from la morte nera’s song.
Have faith in me, thine vita, and answer me here this:
Wouldst thou like to live a vita fullsome with bliss?”
The answer to her prayers, Lilian asked how it could be;
“Trust me,” said the angel, “and thou shalt soon see.
Thine misery I will end, for thou shalt surely die
A painful morte if my help I fail to supply.
Thine soul I will take ‘cross many centuries from now;
Thou wilt here die, but in the future wilt life allow.”
Lilian shrieked in disbelief, in the age of sorcery:
“Thou speakest in tongues I wilt not dare believe!
Grant me, my vita, my one and only desire:
Allow me survive la morte; then thou shalt retire…”

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Clouds were beginning to cover the moon, casting an even eerier glow on Lily and her death. Lily tried to back up against the wall, only to discover there was nothing but air. It appeared as if Lily and the shadow were the only two things that existed in the world. Now there was nothing that could save her.

“Don’t say I didn’t try,” the death whispered. “Believe me, I wanted to protect you. I wanted to save you from your misery from centuries past, to bring you here, a better time, a better place. But you turned me away. You turned me into…this! You can’t be forgiven; your decision has been made. There’s no return now.”

He flashed his devilish teeth and flew up into Lily’s face. His breath stunk of rancid meat, pulling the life out of her. Lily was becoming weaker, unable to fight him off. The memories flowed through her mind; there was a stench of regret, of the desire for another chance. She knew that would not be granted her.


The shadow placed his hands around Lily’s throats and she gave in to her death.

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A lone tear fell down the angel’s satin face,
For the truth of Lilian’s decision she could not erase.
“Thou wretched woman!” her angel screamed out.
“With vita comes morte, there is not a doubt.
Thy future now is out of thine control:
Thou art already dead; God rest thine soul.”