A Dusky Rose (Collection of Short Stories)
written by Winter Lily
Short stories that I've written over time. In chronological order. Trigger warnings are: Suicide, depression, anxiety, murder. I will write individual warnings for each story. Feedback is welcome
Last Updated
05/31/21
Chapters
12
Reads
501
Isabelle, Isa, Murderer - Amira
Chapter 7
Dedication to Amira Diable (Teevan) - Once again, for the prompt and everything else. Also, for being a murderous vampire when I met you, so much inspiration
(27 August, 2017)
TRIGGER WARNINGS: Murder, death
It was her turn now, she knew it was coming. Time for the execution. People came from all around the - admittedly small - town to watch the "show". She had never thought that watching people hang, was particularly exciting. But her parents were always excited, so she had been dragged along to watch the execution since she was walking. As had all the children in town. Forced to watch and experience something she didn't want to. Everyone would get so excited. Grins. Whispers. Everything filled the streets as people gathered together to watch. Sometimes sympathy was given for the condemned. It was rare though. People lacked entertainment, so they took what they could and somehow, the hangings were entertainment to them. Finally, as the last minutes approached, a hushed silence fell over everyone, as they surrounded the gallows. They watched silently as the condemned took their last steps and breaths. She used to have nightmares of people being hanged. She remembered them clearly, even now. The grins coming from every side and the sudden silence and the condemned jumped, it haunted her. In her dreams, and in the middle of the day.
She felt the weight of the world on her shoulders, and as her dead sister was handed to her, she felt that weight as well. The audience looked anything but grave, though they all knew what she had done. The whole town knew who she was, and so did the next town over. She was Isa, formerly Isabelle Ward. Isa, the girl who started out as a joyful child who everyone loved. She used to be told that she was extremely helpful, she used the be the girl who everyone trusted, but then she grew older. She became prone to severe melancholy. They said there was something wrong with her head. No one ever doubted the fact that she was a trustworthy, sweet young lady. She wasn't bad at her studies, though she excelled in the men's studies, rather than those in the kitchen. That was most likely the thing that turned people away from her, rather than the melancholy. Because that was how all women were meant to act, right?
Now though, she was known as something else, something that she had promoted herself. She was Isa, the murderer. She had never been caught, but since she was fourteen; children had disappeared, and adults were found dead in their beds. As she turned sixteen, she revealed that she was the one killing. She left home, supposedly to live in the nearby forest, but despite all the searching, she was never found. Only the evidence, missing children and the adults that were still being found dead.
Today was a day of joy and horror for the majority of the town. She had been discovered the previous night. Slitting the throat of her sister. She had been found by her sister's husband. The town had laughed. They laughed at the stupidity of "the murderer" who had never been caught, but had forgotten that her sister was married. The police took her away. Much to their surprise, she went quietly. Quiet, but grinning. Her eyes had shone and the blood had slipped down her arm. She had waited the night in prison. Not sleeping, but sitting in the middle of the room. She didn't react to anyone's voice, or the occasional blow that fell onto her back. Prisoners were sobbing, chains were clanking against the hard ground. Still, she didn't react, no tears fell, no screams were head. She didn't move until she was called to come for the execution. Then, and only then, did she stand. Graceful as always, she followed the guards silently. She nodded to the rest of the prisoners as she passed them. Some of them smiled back, others were serious, sad, or absolutely and utterly mad. These people had done nothing, nothing compared to her, and both they and she knew it. She knew that these people had never even thought of committing murder. Let alone, actually putting it into practice, and so she acknowledged them all. Some of them waved as she passed, others retreated further into their cells, while some just watched, their bloodshot eyes following her. She was infamous among them, not just the ordinary people.
Everyone had heard of Isa, just as she wanted it to be.
This had been a dream of hers, for, well for as long as she could remember. She supposed it came from only acting like the sweet little girl she was meant to be. Just like every other girl in that town. Pleasant. Sweet. Polite. Quiet. Talented. Caring.
Everything she was meant to be. And she was, for the most part. She had always been those things, but that didn't stop her from wanting to escape, from wanting to rebel, to get out of there. To get out of the suffocating standards. So she did it, she got out of those boundaries, much further than anyone else had. And so, she wore pants and shirts as she killed. Along with the chains that she looped around her waist and neck, it was perfect.
Soon enough, she had reached the familiar sight of the gallows. Her smile had appeared again by then, transforming into her usual grin in a matter of seconds. She wasn't sad to see the crowd, and she certainly wasn't scared to see the gallows. Her death. It didn't faze her. Her death had never fazed her. Her death was nothing compared to everything else. She had always known that her sister had a husband, and frankly, it was idiotic of them not to know that she knew. She knew things about her sister that were far more private than a marriage. A marriage that almost the entire town had been invited to.
Today it was her turn. There was no sympathy at all, and she didn't expect any. She didn't want any either. She had done what she had done for a reason. She had a reason for everything. She had always had a reason. She never went anywhere or did anything without a reason. She had gotten so much better at calculating the risk and effort of an action quickly in her head, before acting. Maybe her reasons and goals weren't exactly logical to many others, but they made sense to her. She had begun her extreme planning when she was eight. Every single actions she had carried out, every single comment she had made, every single step she had taken. It had all been carefully calculated. It had all been leading up to this. Of course, it had taken awhile to perfect the plan and she had changed it a few times. But ultimately, everything had been planned. This very day had been planned out, and sure enough, it had gone exactly where she had wanted it to.
"Isa, formerly Isabelle Ward. Please step up to the gallows. Your last words?" a deep voice asked from the top of the platform. With careful steps, her dark pants just touching the ground, she walked up to the platform. The noose was placed around her neck and she was ushered to the edge of the platform.
"I get the pleasure of last words? Why thank you," she said, giving a mock curtsey, her voice sweet and painfully fake. "Each and every single one of you are terrified of me, but you used to trust me. Almost every person here, I have spoken to, at one point you said that you trusted me." She paused, looking around at the crown.
"Are you done?" the same deep voice asked, the question a little sharp.
"No." She grinned. "Maybe you did trust me, but I never trusted you, because you never asked," she said, her voice carrying through the silent crown. Her words crisp and sharp, they had lost their sweetness. In a swift moment, she jumped off the platform, not waiting for instruction, please with the outcome. It was her death finally.
Finally there was peace.
(27 August, 2017)
TRIGGER WARNINGS: Murder, death
It was her turn now, she knew it was coming. Time for the execution. People came from all around the - admittedly small - town to watch the "show". She had never thought that watching people hang, was particularly exciting. But her parents were always excited, so she had been dragged along to watch the execution since she was walking. As had all the children in town. Forced to watch and experience something she didn't want to. Everyone would get so excited. Grins. Whispers. Everything filled the streets as people gathered together to watch. Sometimes sympathy was given for the condemned. It was rare though. People lacked entertainment, so they took what they could and somehow, the hangings were entertainment to them. Finally, as the last minutes approached, a hushed silence fell over everyone, as they surrounded the gallows. They watched silently as the condemned took their last steps and breaths. She used to have nightmares of people being hanged. She remembered them clearly, even now. The grins coming from every side and the sudden silence and the condemned jumped, it haunted her. In her dreams, and in the middle of the day.
She felt the weight of the world on her shoulders, and as her dead sister was handed to her, she felt that weight as well. The audience looked anything but grave, though they all knew what she had done. The whole town knew who she was, and so did the next town over. She was Isa, formerly Isabelle Ward. Isa, the girl who started out as a joyful child who everyone loved. She used to be told that she was extremely helpful, she used the be the girl who everyone trusted, but then she grew older. She became prone to severe melancholy. They said there was something wrong with her head. No one ever doubted the fact that she was a trustworthy, sweet young lady. She wasn't bad at her studies, though she excelled in the men's studies, rather than those in the kitchen. That was most likely the thing that turned people away from her, rather than the melancholy. Because that was how all women were meant to act, right?
Now though, she was known as something else, something that she had promoted herself. She was Isa, the murderer. She had never been caught, but since she was fourteen; children had disappeared, and adults were found dead in their beds. As she turned sixteen, she revealed that she was the one killing. She left home, supposedly to live in the nearby forest, but despite all the searching, she was never found. Only the evidence, missing children and the adults that were still being found dead.
Today was a day of joy and horror for the majority of the town. She had been discovered the previous night. Slitting the throat of her sister. She had been found by her sister's husband. The town had laughed. They laughed at the stupidity of "the murderer" who had never been caught, but had forgotten that her sister was married. The police took her away. Much to their surprise, she went quietly. Quiet, but grinning. Her eyes had shone and the blood had slipped down her arm. She had waited the night in prison. Not sleeping, but sitting in the middle of the room. She didn't react to anyone's voice, or the occasional blow that fell onto her back. Prisoners were sobbing, chains were clanking against the hard ground. Still, she didn't react, no tears fell, no screams were head. She didn't move until she was called to come for the execution. Then, and only then, did she stand. Graceful as always, she followed the guards silently. She nodded to the rest of the prisoners as she passed them. Some of them smiled back, others were serious, sad, or absolutely and utterly mad. These people had done nothing, nothing compared to her, and both they and she knew it. She knew that these people had never even thought of committing murder. Let alone, actually putting it into practice, and so she acknowledged them all. Some of them waved as she passed, others retreated further into their cells, while some just watched, their bloodshot eyes following her. She was infamous among them, not just the ordinary people.
Everyone had heard of Isa, just as she wanted it to be.
This had been a dream of hers, for, well for as long as she could remember. She supposed it came from only acting like the sweet little girl she was meant to be. Just like every other girl in that town. Pleasant. Sweet. Polite. Quiet. Talented. Caring.
Everything she was meant to be. And she was, for the most part. She had always been those things, but that didn't stop her from wanting to escape, from wanting to rebel, to get out of there. To get out of the suffocating standards. So she did it, she got out of those boundaries, much further than anyone else had. And so, she wore pants and shirts as she killed. Along with the chains that she looped around her waist and neck, it was perfect.
Soon enough, she had reached the familiar sight of the gallows. Her smile had appeared again by then, transforming into her usual grin in a matter of seconds. She wasn't sad to see the crowd, and she certainly wasn't scared to see the gallows. Her death. It didn't faze her. Her death had never fazed her. Her death was nothing compared to everything else. She had always known that her sister had a husband, and frankly, it was idiotic of them not to know that she knew. She knew things about her sister that were far more private than a marriage. A marriage that almost the entire town had been invited to.
Today it was her turn. There was no sympathy at all, and she didn't expect any. She didn't want any either. She had done what she had done for a reason. She had a reason for everything. She had always had a reason. She never went anywhere or did anything without a reason. She had gotten so much better at calculating the risk and effort of an action quickly in her head, before acting. Maybe her reasons and goals weren't exactly logical to many others, but they made sense to her. She had begun her extreme planning when she was eight. Every single actions she had carried out, every single comment she had made, every single step she had taken. It had all been carefully calculated. It had all been leading up to this. Of course, it had taken awhile to perfect the plan and she had changed it a few times. But ultimately, everything had been planned. This very day had been planned out, and sure enough, it had gone exactly where she had wanted it to.
"Isa, formerly Isabelle Ward. Please step up to the gallows. Your last words?" a deep voice asked from the top of the platform. With careful steps, her dark pants just touching the ground, she walked up to the platform. The noose was placed around her neck and she was ushered to the edge of the platform.
"I get the pleasure of last words? Why thank you," she said, giving a mock curtsey, her voice sweet and painfully fake. "Each and every single one of you are terrified of me, but you used to trust me. Almost every person here, I have spoken to, at one point you said that you trusted me." She paused, looking around at the crown.
"Are you done?" the same deep voice asked, the question a little sharp.
"No." She grinned. "Maybe you did trust me, but I never trusted you, because you never asked," she said, her voice carrying through the silent crown. Her words crisp and sharp, they had lost their sweetness. In a swift moment, she jumped off the platform, not waiting for instruction, please with the outcome. It was her death finally.
Finally there was peace.
