Title ; Marys' Quest
Author ; Kiss.Of.Darkness
Disclaimer ; I own nothing you recognize. Everything else, is mine.
Please, Don't Copy.
Prologue ; Death.
Date Begun ; Sunday, November 14, 2004
Date Finished ; Sunday, November 14, 2004
Date Posted ; Sunday, November 14, 2004
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1478, England;
Calasico Tower,
Room 7690;
Dungeons;
July 19th
She did her best to stand, back straight, shoulders ready, even breathes, head held high, but soon the pain became too much for her and she fell to her knees.
There was a hissing, a triumphant sound, but she did not hear it. Her tattered blue dress tore at the edges, but she did not care. Soon she was clutching the cold stone floor, her breathing rigid.
There was laughter, cruel laughter that chiled her skin, and sent shivers through her body. She scrunched lower, one hand going to her abdoman where bones were beggining to show through her bruised skin.
The lashing grew steadier, leaving her gasping for breathe. Sweat trickled down her face, causing her black ivory hair to stick to her skin. Her eyes wattered, she shut them closed, she would not give them the satisfaction of her tears, nor her cries. She could hear the ripping of the soft fabric on her back against the whip. She could feel the blood smearing the dress with red, and the blood oozing out of her scars. It became slower, until it ceased to scraping her skin, and then stopped.
The laughter began to differ, and then one last lash, harder and faster than the others. Then it began to fade, the iron click, and he was gone. She fell to the ground shaking, she cried softly into the night.
Her breathes became a steady pattern, then slowly began to fade, until she lost all consciousness...
Hannah Judith Donoliss died July 19th, 1478, from a massive amount of blood loss.
Because she was accused of Witchcraft, and never stood trial.
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1666, England;
Calasico Tower,
Room 7690;
Dungeons;
Febuary 28th
Mary Elizabeth Fryre awoke to a faint screeching above her bedpost, and a chill that was most definately not there when she had lied down. She opened her eyes and sighed, it was still dark and by the looks of it it would be for a while longer. She let her eyes become more focused to the dark and she pulled herself into a sitting position; her legs dangling off the sides of her bed. She looked down at herself and then pulled one hand up to her hair, and groaned. She had fallen asleep in her clothes from the day before, which were sure to now be wrinkled and creased, and perhaps sporting a couple of rips in the seams. She had also forgotten to unbraid her long dark auburn hair, which was sure to be frizzy and curly when she did. Streching her legs, she sighed and slipped of the bed, and began to walk to the other end of her bedchamber. She reached her drawer and felt for her gas lamp, finding it she turned the knob, letting the small fire ignite inside, until ilumniating the room in a soft glow.
It was a nice room, all in all, in contrast to some others - even on the main floors - it was grand. The once stone floors had been covered in polished wood, only the finest, and then had been recovered in soft cream colored carpeting. There were also a couple of red and cherry throw on rugs ontop of that. The walls were plastered in some material she did not know of, and had been painted, then covered in a dark red and mahoganny, with a touch of gold here and there. There was also a magnificant wood border, painted or polished-she'd never know, unless she tracked it down a couple of decades- gold, and had carvings of wings and angels, arrows and bows, and looked itself as if it had been carved by angels. The ceilings were covered in plush gold with a dark and lighter shades of red and gold running through. The room consisted of dark cherry and mahoganny furniture; a long drawer filled with the less rich fabrics,skirts, dresses, and some undergarments, including some bodices and corsets- which are used for only special occasions- and some gloves and accesories; a cabinet filled with rich fabrics, skirts, dresses, finer undergarments,bodices and a few corsets; a long square mirror with the same carvings as the walls on the outer edges and simple designs on the inner; a large bedpost of dark cherry, mahoganny, with four large bedposts, with again the same designs as the walls, and some simpler. The bedspread was by far granger than most, rich fabrics of dark and lighter red, gold, and some white, multiple sheets of red, gold and white, and pillows of all three combined and seperate. And a couple of paintings on the walls, along with candleabras on the walls. It was truly magnificant.
She came and studied herself in the mirror, she really did look a mess. Her braid had long bits of hair streaking out, and it was all mussy. Her dress had less wrinkles then she imagined, but was still torn in some places.
Suddenly the gas lamp flickered, casting shadows on the wall, the chill soon became colder until an all out breeze.
She heard the screeching become louder, and then whip lashes, cries and whimpers. She fell to her knees and took her head in her hands. She heard these sounds increase until she thought herself crazy. Then it faded, and the chill sped up. Faster and faster. Colder and colder. She shivered. She felt hot tears on her rosy cheeks. Then it happened. It filled her with a cold, a cold so great it could rival the wind.
" You must leave," an eerie voice whispered," they are coming, they will murder you, you must go..."
Shadows danced across the walls, they showed something that could of saved her life, but she did not see. She sat there in front of the mirror,head down, fresh tears streaming down her face. It was like that until everything faded into a deep silence.
She stayed there breathing heavily, too scared to focus on anything else.
That could have been the reason why she didn't hear the patter of feet, the sound of steel swishing, or perhaps she was just too ignorant.Either way, Mary only knew there was someone with her when she felt hot breath and the swish of cold metal on her exposed neck.
She looked up into the mirror, but it was too late, she could not see who had murdered her.
Only the smooth, long cut just above her collorbone, and the blood dripping down her neck.
That was the last thing Mary Elizabeth Fryre ever saw...
Or was it ?
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