Gothic Short Story

1507 Words7 Pages

Gothic Horror Story

She wakes up with dirt in her mouth. It is coal dark outside. The overwhelming scent of a corpse is brought to her attention. She shudders in horror not sure of where she is. The damp floor beneath her causes her to investigate the current situation. She starts piecing together her surroundings, realizing that the liquid on the floor is blood. Oppressed with a sudden anxiety she becomes weak at her knees and falters in the thick fluid on the timber floor. Her moonlit leather boots gets a rosewood-red sheen in the otherwise everlasting gloom. At the corner of her eye she notices unsteady footsteps on the floor and a sparkling silver ring. Then a fragile voice is audible.
“It was you.”
Throaty but yet with a distinct enunciation. …show more content…

The temperature was constantly decreasing. Though the cuisine was far away I could still smell the exquisite dinner that was in preparation. The main course was roasted wild ducks with sherry, rosemary, sage and thyme, peas soup and orange pudding and for desert: a variety of delicate biskets, a trifle and a paste of pippins, after the Genua fashion. A truly sumptuous repast made out of the best raw materials you could possibly find. I started to move towards the castle with the Cavalier walking at my heels. The sunset coloured everything in warm autumnal colours and the castle was beautifully illuminated with an orange …show more content…

Servants trotted through the red hall with one palatable repast after another while the conversational topic finally was not about the King, but an evaluation of the semi-opera “King Arthur” by Henry Purcell. Margaret did not comment nor listen to the discourse. She sighed and cleared her throat.
“Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen. At this moment we mourn. How can you possibly sit here at table and discuss however the play lives up to your expectations? I am truly stunned.” She sighed again and fixed her eyes on me with a chilling expression. The sudden silence in the hall was overwhelming and I felt ill at ease by the old Queen’s intimidating look.
“I wish to be more enlightened about my dear son the King’s death. Faulkner, will you please have the honour to give further particulars about the killing?” Earl Faulkner, leader of the murder investigation, looked unpleasant by the demand for an explanation given by her Royal Highness. His skin tone turned pale and he nervously took a glance at the people gathered around the dinner