Hey xx
Just to make things clear. This fan fiction has hardly no relevance to umineko. These are all my own characters. Battler and Beatrice however are mentioned at some points in the story.
Please enjoy xx
London 1658 17th March
The sky was painted black and wept tears in which fell on the streets of London heavily, each with a fairly loud splash. The rain roared and the wind howled, hitting the doors and windows with great force, almost shattering them. But in spite all this, all the wind and the rain, this particular street was not deserted. A woman, about 18 or 19 walked elegantly, emerging through a black mist which had formed around her. Her footsteps unheard and covered up by the roaring of the rain.
She wore a black puffy dress, the base held slightly up with a filly bow, a skull in the middle with a red ribbon wrapped around the base of the dress. The top half, a one shoulder slash neck with a frilly silk bib, and beneath that, barely showing and silver chain. Red and black gloves and a silk lace around one arm and over all of that a long gothic coat. A similar bow to the last was placed in her hair, and attached, long strands of crimson red hair, which blended nicely with her natural black. Her blue eyes looked ahead, emotionless. She carried a cane which had a glass ball on the end, and inside that, another skull.
She walked slowly, counting the house numbers as she went. She halted when she came to end of the street. She read the house number, 198. She smiled slightly, but still it contained no emotion. But after all, she didn't need emotion for a job like this.
The room was lit dimly by a single candle. The door was locked shut and a chair leaned against it. A man wearing a fashionable top hat and waist coat was standing at the far door. He breathed heavily, his heart hammering against his rib cage. Cold sweat fell down his head to his nose and dripped to the floor. He bit his lip, his eyes fixed on the front door. The grandfather clock stood in the corner, slowly ticking, counting down to whatever the man was expecting to happen.
Suddenly the door handle started to rattle, turning from side to side. The man tensed, his hands formed into fists.
"p-p-please g-go away!"
His pleading was ignored and the handle continued to rattle and shake violently.
"I SAID GET LOST!" He picked up a marble figure off of the fireplace and threw it at the door, shattering it. The handle stopped shaking and everything was silent once again.
"H-hello!"
The candle was suddenly suffocated by a black mist, which also covered the fire, blocking out all light and warmth in the room. It was pitch black now. The man stumbled about clumsily, blinded by fear and confusion. In Spite of the darkness, he could still make out the black mist still leaking into the room. He made his way to the back door which led to the corridor.
He slammed it shut behind, he locked it. He leaned against it, still breathing heavily. On the other side, someone started banging on the door. He jumped away from the door.
"PLEASE JUST GO AWAY, I DONT DESERVE THIS!"
The door burst open and the black mist surrounded him. He turned around repeatedly, still not believing what was going on. He looked back at the door, no one was there.
Where were they? He carried on turning, looking for the person he was expecting.
"Tell me Mr. Smith, who are you looking for?"He froze as he heard the emotionless voice of the woman he had been expecting. He was fixed to the spot, stuttering with fear.
Finally he turned, to meet the woman, her facial expression blank, her eyes misty and distant.
"H-How di- why- NOOOO!" He fell to his knees and screamed, but still her expression did not change, she just stared at the pathetic man cowering on the floor.
"You know why I've come?" She looked at him as he lifted his face, looking straight into his eyes, piercing his soul.
He turned his face away, avoiding her glare. "Please, I don't deserve this!"
"You dealt drugs and risked your life threatening suicide at London bridge, you don't deserve life as much as the next murder of the generation." She stated blankly, her voice tone not changing.
He looked shamefully at the floor, tears dripping to the ground.
"So, your times up!" She said, raising her cane.
"D-do what you must!" He stuttered.
"Very well!" she smirked half-heartedly. "Abe Gareth Smith, your time is UP!" She raised her cane up high and brought it down heavily, the glass ball shattered and all hell broke loose.
The black mist swirled violently around him, closing in on him. He screamed but his voice was broken off as the mist filled his mouth and rushed down his throat.
He clawed at his neck, as though trying to get it out. The mist leaked from his eyes and his nose, and black tears streamed down his face.
A dark flash and his whole body disintegrated, taking the broken soul along with it.
Everything rushed back into the glass dome of the cane, and before the glass closed, one last cry was heard. The cry of death.