Alternate Ending to the Red Death

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The deathly ringing of the clock resonated throughout the chambers and faded away like they always had. But this time, the festivities did not flare back to life, for the new figure had control over the attention of everyone. This unique figure was shrouded in a robe as black as a void that covered all of his body except for his face, which was concealed by a peculiar mask. Contrary to the darkness of the robes, the lean mask was a pure, ghostly white with two blood red, curved lines, thicker at the top of the mask and thinner towards the bottom, through the eyes which were void holes. The air around him was cold and stale, like death lingered around him, waiting for its next victim. From the outskirts of the crowd, he moved in closer to the revelers, with each step echoing unnaturally loud. People shuffled away from him, afraid some terrible fate may befall them if they get close in proximity to him, as he strolled toward some unknown destination.
Untouched and unhindered, he continued on a path, not yet discovered, towards the unknowing Prince Prospero. Although he had a slow pace, he made an unexplainable distance in a small amount of time. Some masqueraded man from the retreating group grew enraged and curious of this mysterious man. He ran up to the figure and placed a hand on his mask with the intent to tear it off of the ghostly man. The moment he laid his hand upon the mask, he screamed in agony and pain. Then, unable to pull his hand or the mask free, his fate was sealed. His scream withered away along with his final breath, as he turned old and crumpled onto the lustrous floor in a pile of black ash. Silence and absolute stillness filled the room before a wine glass, half full of a red drink, descended from the whitley g...

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... tenth toll took their share of the helpless men.
Pale as the ghost he was going to become, Prospero gentley landed on the floor of the black room, where he was certain he would meet his demise. The black room contained the ominous ornaments and tapestries as it always had, but it now had Death. The blood red pane cast an eerie light that bathed the entire room in a dim, bloody light. Death loomed over the guant figure barely recognizable as the once honorable Prince Prospero, for he now had the appearance of an elderly man with greyed hair that sprouted from his leathery, wrinkled skin. The eleventh toll chimed and the prince was reduced to a pile of black ash, indistinguishable from any other dust pile. When the final twelfth toll sounded, Death vanished along with the light from the brazier in the black room, leaving the entire castle empty and devoid of any life.

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