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DEATH PREVAILED

Isolde

People always try to outrun death. As if it’s something they can escape.

But death isn’t a chase; it’s a whisper of a shadow, lingering beneath the veil of silvery skies, cloaked in shrouded harmony until it strikes without warning. It’s in the wind, threading through hollow forests. In the arms full of sorrow.

Death is a lover draped in ghostly white.

And still, they were taken from me too fast.

I glance over my shoulder, noticing that no one is hiding in the mist, even when my skin prickles with the awareness of being watched. The graveyard is empty and vacant, except for the spirits lingering on the sacred soil.

No one should be there.

They’re all locked away now. They can’t hurt me anymore; I made sure of that.

Yet, under the low-hanging moon, clouds pressing down like a shroud, something is watching. Tombstones form masses of rows around me, headstones buried under the thickness of the rapidly falling snow.

A heartbreaking shudder runs rampant through my veins as the memories resurface, morphing into something lethal and unstoppable—a force so fierce, it could obliterate anyone who dares lay a finger on me.

If only that would stop the horrors thrumming through me, or the memories plaguing my every waking second.

A piercing scream rattles the surroundings, spearing into my heart as if it might stop beating entirely. Steps faltering, echoes of the past filter through my mind. It sounds too fucking real.

Suddenly, it’s as if that’s all I can see: the blood soaking the snow before me, tainting the purity of winter with something violent. Irreversible.

With a blink, it disappears as quickly as it came.

Only my imagination. It’s all in the past.

The old, weathered sign is barely visible through the weight of snow, the words welcoming me deeper into the graveyard. Snow crunches underneath my boots as I pull my black coat tighter, clutching a single black rose.

It’s the end of February, and our small town of Vexglade has transformed into a Winter Wonderland, but not the kind you’d wish for. Streets are choked with frost, and the air is frozen in a time where only eerie stillness exists outside the fires of homes.

It’s a far cry from the winters of the past. Centuries ago, they told tales around the bonfire of the witches who once called this place home, and the curses they wove into the land—vexes that clung to the town like a second skin.

It’d explain the cold that never truly leaves, or the darkness creeping across the horizon as early as four p.m., even in the summer.

It’s just folklore, they say, but sometimes, it feels far too real.

Especially with the snow that came as early as October, with the sense of foreboding lurking right under the surface like a bad omen about to happen, unleashing its hell across the earth.

Ice litters the path forward, hiding under the thick layers of snow like a mischievous kitten seeking havoc.

Skies crying their ugly tears from the darkening clouds, I clutch the rose even tighter, the thorns pricking my finger. A quiet hiss escapes me before I eventually reach the one single headstone I haven’t dared visit since their passing three years ago.

I settle onto the snow-dusted ground, not caring about the cold that forces its way into my woolen tights and skirt.

“Hello, Mom and Dad,” I say into the silence, my voice barely a whisper against the increasing wind.

I close my eyes, fighting for that breath of air I need. It’s too much, seeing their gravestone right in front of me. Their death is a heavy burden on my consciousness, filtering and rooting inside my soul like thorns and veins that’ll never let go.

Clenching my teeth, I finally leave the rose on their headstone.

Here lies Ann after the involvement I had in their deaths.

My fists clench until my nails press into my palms, crescent forms in a way that feels euphoric. It distracts me from my mental exhaustion.

And then, as if by an unknown force, I feel that prickling sensation at the nape of my neck.

I look around the graveyard, but I’m the only one among the corpses. A faint whisper can be heard between the graves, sending an icy chill through my body that makes my breath hitch.

The wind howls around me, fierce and cold, but it’s the stiffness in my joints and the crunch of footsteps in the snow that truly chills me.

A sudden ding from my phone startles me. I retrieve the device from my pocket but almost drop it onto the ground because the cold has made my fingers stiff and red.

The organ inside my chest feels as if it’s shredded into pieces, sinking so low it could be buried under the soil, as I read the six-word sentence from my boyfriend, Casper.

CASPER

They found a body this morning.’

I stare at the screen, gradually blurring with the relentless snowflakes. Blood rushes in my ears, pounding with an incoming headache. Another message comes through.

CASPER

You’d better get here.

Gripping the phone tightly, I realize I have no choice. I can’t say no to him, the deputy chief.

Why does he want me there?

Pushing to my feet, finally escaping the damp ground that ultimately numbed my body, the graveyard feels more alive than before.

My footsteps crunch in the snow, but there’s something else there—a sound, faint and distant, like an echo of a movement. But no one’s there.

Hastily hurrying back to my car and the warmth beckoning me closer, something catches my eye, and I freeze mid-step. The unease clings to me like a shadow out to hurt me, heavier than the lingering fog.

An object lies half-buried under drifts of snow, glinting faintly in the moonlight, aligning with what looks to be a silver stamp on a dark envelope. I should keep moving to my car, but something pulls me in—be it my curiosity or whatnot—but I physically can’t ignore it.

It’s an invisible tug on my heart.

The envelope is dry, not wet as it would’ve been if it had been here for a while, meaning that someone must have recently placed it there.

There’s no sender or receiver, but there’s a symbol of something forgotten glinting back at me.

A silvery crow.

My heart lodges in my throat like a sore lump about to make me sick as I carefully open the envelope, not sure who it’s intended for.

Mortem

It’s time for Death

My breath hitches, a pulse of panic flooding me, like a flutter of something deep and dark stirring within. The snow falls heavier, and the world grows dimmer. The wind whispers a message that sends shivers down my spine, and I nearly jump again as my phone dings in my hand.

CASPER

Get here. Now.

The command is clear, and I cast one last glance at the surroundings before hurrying out of the graveyard.

“ Darling…” the wind whispers, sounding all too feminine and real for my heart to be able to handle, and I want to scream at my mind to stop playing fucking tricks on me.

A memory pushes to the forefront of my mind.

“Oh, my darling, you should have seen the look on your face!” the red-haired girl cackles, her hips swinging sexily as she approaches me where I’m lying on the floor, covered in crimson and the corpses before me.

A sight so horrific, it looks like a bloodbath.

“Such a beautiful thing, don’t you think?

” She turns to the man beside her, sizing me up like a predator would a prey.

“So beautiful, indeed.”

My heart aches at the memory, and I quickly stand to my feet, hurrying toward the safety of my car. I have to remind myself multiple times that they’re not here. They can’t fucking hurt me or anyone else anymore, yet they haunt my mind as much as they wanted my soul when they were out in the world.

I spot my car with the help of moonlight and settle into it, immediately locking the doors. The headlights cast the front of the car in an ominous hue, with the trees casting shadows, and I almost expect to see someone standing there.

I turn the key in the ignition and rev the engine, hurrying away from the damned graveyard I never should have visited. Especially not after my parents were brutally murdered by the two people I put in jail.

—————

“WHAT’S THE MATTER?” I ask, entering the police station while dragging the jacket closer around my body. The brutal cold from the outside leaves my body rigid, my cheeks stinging from the wind’s icy slap, and a sharp ache spreads through my frozen ears.

Pushing through crowds of worried civilians and all-too-curious journalists, I’m left panting by the time I’m inside the building. Casper’s searing eyes meet mine at the door, quickly locking it to prevent the swarm of people.

“Why did this happen? Vexglade hasn’t had a single murder in years!”

The voice of a journalist filters through the door, loud and jarring. Casper pushes me aside, away from all the commotion.

My fists are clenched, my heart aching from those words.

“Hasn’t had a single murder in years…”

The last time was my parents.

I swallow the lump in my throat, attempting to appear unaffected. Casper cannot know what happened all those years ago. Not the truth, at least.

Casper’s jaw tightens with palpable annoyance. “What took you so fucking long?”

A snap of irritation surges through me, but I take a deep breath, not wanting to lash out at him. It would only give him more ammunition to start a fight with me, one I don’t have the energy for right now.

“Those journalists. I’m sorry,” I apologize, swallowing the words down after uttering them.

He huffs like an immature little child before leading me to his office at the rear of the station. His green eyes are overshadowed by the circles underlining his skin, exhaustion wearing heavy on him, and I feel bad for feeling so mad at his attitude.

Of course, he’s mad.

This is the first murder in years.

It’s shocked the entire town.

“What is it, baby?” I ask in a kinder tone, one I know he appreciates.

His lips roll back, a glint in his eyes telling me something is wrong. I can’t quite make out what it is.

“I’m not supposed to divulge details with you,” he murmurs. “But this is something I think you should know. It has to do with your parents’ murder.”

My heart picks up its pace, blood rushing in my ears. He knows my parents were murdered—he has no idea I was involved in the murders…not with the real culprits behind bars.

“This new body was found with their eyes gouged out and their tongues nailed to the ground beside them. A single letter was carved into its chest, fresh and deep enough to puncture flesh.”

My own blood runs cold, dread seeping deep into my marrow. I wait with bated breath for him to continue.

“ ‘I’ was the letter. The body was found in an alley, the same one your parents died in. Left in the same pose as them, using the same techniques. Same initial. We’re to believe it’s a copycat killer.

” He scratches his small scuff. “There’s something else, too; the letter 7 was carved into the wall. ”

A chill suddenly grips my spine, spreading through my veins like frost rapidly evolving. It’s a nightmare I can’t escape. A copycat . I swallow harshly, but my throat is as dry as sandpaper.

It can only mean one thing—it’s a message for me. Someone, somehow, knows about my involvement in their death.

They can’t be back…can they?

I shake away the thought as soon as it comes, knowing they’re locked in and will be for a very long time.

“However, that’s not all,” Casper continues, looking at me with a gaze that would terrify anyone. “A photo of you was found at the crime scene.”

“What?”

“It’s bad. The chief of police thinks it’s connected to you, if not even your doing.”

“But I didn’t have anything to do with that,” I protest. When he merely looks at me with that suspicious glint, I stare at him in disbelief. “You know that, right?”

He stays silent, swallowing, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Right, Casper?” I grumble, disbelief evident in my tone.

“Yes, of course, I know that. But there’s no way we can rule it out.”

“What the fuck? I was at the damn cemetery!” I growl.

“Do you have an alibi?”

“You’re un-fucking-believable,” I rise, staring down at him. Adrenaline fuels my insides, turning into anger.

He stands up just as quickly, grabbing my wrist so tightly pain spreads through my bones, and I’m afraid it’ll bruise.

“I’m sorry. You know there’s nothing I can do to rule it out,” he grits out, manipulation swirling in his irises like black charcoal.

I wrench my hand free, the stinging discomfort making me hiss, before hastily exiting the police station as quickly as I came. The swarm of journalists instantly meets me, but I push through them, ignoring any of their stupid questions.

My heart is racing, fear a vivid thing living inside me.

The death is too similar…

The prickling sensation of being watched overwhelms me once again, and I know it’s not from the crowd that’s pushing me for an answer. I look around, but I see no one who could be the reason for my unease. As I’m finally about to settle down in my car, my heart nearly stops.

There, between my windshields, lay the envelope I left back at the cemetery.

Mortem

It’s time for Death