Whispers

Prologue

Her dark purple dress flowed behind her as she ran down the manor steps. Her blonde hair was a tangled mess as she pulled the elegant braided bun loose. The cold coated itself around her, inviting her in and wrapping it's deadly arms over her shaking body. Wind ripped at her clothes and pale face, beckoning her to keep running. Drumming filled her ears, drowning out the sound of the men running behind her. She clutched at the skirt of her dress, doing her best not to trip over it.

A large hand clamped down on her shoulder and pulled her into the bushes of the hidden garden. The young woman stumbled to keep up as the man lead her deeper into the garden. The smell of roses, gardenias and violets filled the air as the wind blew and rustled the leaves.

The man stopped in the center of the garden and turned toward the young woman. His bright young hazel eyes were transfixed on her with mixed emotions, sorrow and culpability. He cupped her pale face and kissed her lips quickly before pulling away once more. His mouth moved but no sounds filled the air.

Hands grabbed the woman as the man stood and stared at her with regret. Three men pulled her away and back towards the manor. She struggled and reached for the man, an ache in her chest and tears streaming down her face.

Death stared at her in the face, gripping her heart and shattering it into thousands of pieces. The men watched with a hunger for death as the young woman struggled against the one behind her, the one who held her as the others tried to shackle her to the wall.

Finally, chained and beaten with sweat and blood dripping from her forehead, her tired body slumped against the wall. The men stood above her with satisfaction clear on their faces. One of the men left and returned with a large wood cutting axe. The three men's eyes were filled with bloodlust, abnormally animal like as they stared at the woman. The man with the axe stepped forward and raised the axe high above his head. The woman looked up with wide eyes, opened her mouth and screamed at the top of her lungs.

Dirt flung onto the purple fabric and into her beautiful blonde hair. Her lover stood above her cold body, watching with her locket in his hand. He turned and walked away, looking up at his manor. A young boy stood in the window of the second floor, looking down at the scene with no emotion. A man stood behind the boy, grabbing him and pulling him away from the window.

A thicket of roses rested in the center of the garden. Deep red, pink and white roses tangled together above a patch of bluegrass. The sun cast a shadow over the very spot, keeping the area cool and completely untouched. Green grass grew tall in the garden, surrounded by large fifteen foot hedges. Vines grew over the only entrance to the garden, covering the thick oak door until all that could be seen of it was a single symbol on the family crest in the center of the wood.