Hello, this is my first story ever. Please let me know what you think of it.

Desdemona

Disclamer: Not mine... :(

Bluebeard's Tale

My sixth wife is dead. Why can't women do as they are told? Many people say I am cold, but they do not know why. My heart was turned to stone by my first wife. She was such a pretty little thing; and I loved her well. Alice was her name. I killed her. I killed her that night, when I found her and her lover together. Her lover's body I cast into the sea. Her own, I locked away. I locked her away in a closet, dressed in her wedding gown. She shall have no Christian burial. I married again and again, putting all of my brides to a test. One by one, they all failed. Their test was to see if they could resist temptation. Their test was to see of they could resist opening the closet. They all failed, now they all hang in that cursed closet dressed in their wedding gowns. I wish to marry again but now the town's people are becoming a little curious about my dead wives. Damn them, they know nothing. They are ignorant fools they do not know what has happened to my brides. They think they have gone missing. Perhaps my neighbor will let me have one of her daughters. They are both very pretty and they seem obedient. I have gotten into the mother good graces. Her daughters shall be spending the week at one of my country residents. The younger one seems to fall for me more each day. I have asked her mother for her hand, and she has agreed. She is the type of women that will do anything for money. I have already started to put my test in order. About a month after our marriage I will go on a trip for a fortnight. I will give her all the keys; all of them even the one to the closet. If she does not open it, why then she is loyal and she shall live. If she does open the closet then die she shall. I have said my farewells, now to see if she will heed my warning. Damn her, she dares to defy me. She has seen the room; she will suffer the same fate. She begs for mercy I will spare her no more than fifteen minuets. With those fifteen minuets she will pray to God for her soul. My blade is sharp, and soon she will feel just how sharp it is. I call for her, she tells me

"Just a moment more," Ha. I call for her again, and she tells me

"Just a moment more." I grow impatient she has not come, will she defy me 'till her very end? I start to climb the stairs. I call for her, she says she is coming. I find her yelling to her sister Anne. Ha, she thinks that her sister can help her. Her sister will suffer the same fate. I drag her by her hair, down the stair and into the main hall. Her hair in one hand, my sword in the other. Her neck is bare; I have ripped anything that could lead my aim astray from it. "Say your prayers my dear, for not even God can help you now." Alas, how wrong I was! Her brothers came bursting through the door, their swords held high. I let her hair go, and I run, run for my life. They cornered me and cut me down. As I lay dying, I thought twice I have been killed by Alice. My first wife Alice killed my heart and my seventh wife Alice kills my body.