In The Heart of A Traitor

Hi all,
I had been considering that instead of writing merely short stories, write a book in chapters.

In The Heart of A Traitor
dedicated to J. T, who suggested I write something, and N.S, who I know will appreciate this.
~M.P. Surprenant

Chapter One
The streets of Paris are dark and nearly empty, there is a curfew now. Very few individuals would dare to stalk these byways--especially on this night December 15 of the year 16---, but one figure slumps along as if he owns the very coldness in the wind that plays with his tattered clothes. Dressed in a drab black, he seems to fit the rotting aroma of which he breaths; the perfume of corpses long decayed of which the French authorities savored so willingly. It cannot be said if this man enjoys his situation, but he is at least content. With long strides, his shabby boots make towards the corner house's door that he does not knock but enters silently.

"Madame Cu Coeur, is your son at home?" he asks the pale face that he sees, and she nods slightly. Calling, her son appears, and squeezing her hand slightly in a reassuring way, and lights the candle. It is a small flame, but enough for their needs, and our two gentlemen take a careful seat.

"Aron, we were betrayed." the man states quietly. The younger man's face turns ashen, and asks:

"Who did it?" Oh those simple words! If we had all the answers we need when we need them, the world would be so simple and quite boring. It was a simple statement, and a simple question, but there is no simple solution. The other shook his head, saying:

"Luis does not know, nor does anyone else. It was a well done job-Domina was captured and killed not an hour ago, and I do not think that even he knew who it was."

"Maurice," Aron says brokenly, "Domina? His poor, poor wife." Aron whispered.

"I fear she is next, she was arrested also." Maurice continues, ever so painfully. Perhaps he means well, or does he? Is there no bitterness in his heart as he gives these grievous tidings, and does he want someone else to feel pain, as he did? What can Maurice gain by telling Aron the same news that so many have heard before and withered from the very mention of death of another loved one. In the past Maurice and Aron were never close friends, nor were they bitter enemies. The candle flickers, then dies, and Maurice is headed back to his lodgings. Not a home, just a place to rest, for as far as anyone knows Maurice has no home, or ever had one. The rumor has it that Maurice appeared one gray day just before the secret rebellion began, men who would fight Robespierre and any other communist officials in France, before all their freedoms were lost. Some of the more crushed believed that it was hopeless to fight, while others insisted that the more they fought, the more rights they would lose, and so did nothing. "Because," as they said, "that is how this hell began."