The Fate of Elizabeth

My name is Elizabeth Bathony, some know me as the “Blood Countess.”  I have been resting in purgatory for many years, and now my case has come to trial. There’s a catch though: God isn’t making the verdict you are. Here is my testimony, make of it as you wish.

Once upon a time, you might have considered me much like you. I grew up lonely --shut away from the rest of the world, due to the fearing but loving hearts of my parents. I spent many nights dreaming of the outside world. I wondered what it might be like to have others outside the family to associate with --and what of these creatures my parents warned me of: men? 

At the age of sixteen, I saw a young man for the first time.My mother allowed me to go into town with her. I found myself instantly fascinated with him.  Drawn to his chiseled body, his intense blue eyes, and that smile of his—I stood no chance.

I knew I must meet him. When my mother was distracted by a vendor, I made my way into the vale of the crowd. I felt certain she'd have a hard time finding me in the chaos. 

My first taste of freedom mesmerized me, almost to the point that I forgot my goal. Not for long, he caught my eye. Oh my God! I felt the drum of my heart! He was checking me out too!

I approached him. In his presence, I stuttered, my mind went blank. I felt so stupid.  Little did I know this innocence seduced him more than the woo of any siren.  As he spoke to me, I loosened up. We talked for many hours and agreed to begin seeing each other. 

When my mother finally found me she boiled with rage and insisted on telling my father.  They forbid me to see Alfred (that was his name) ever again.  Lust has its way of breaking walls, and we continued to see each other for many months.

Eventually we decided to “make love.”  Then there was no turning back. Alfred became my soul purpose for living. A world with no Alfred would mean a world where daylight ceased to glow.

One day he approached me and said, “We need to talk.” Of course I was young and naïve then, so I didn’t know that meant bad news.

“Okay, what do you want to talk about?”

“It is time that I got married, and you are not a suitable wife!”

“What? Why not? We love each…”

“Hush! You are not pure..”

“What’s that got to do with it?”

“It is not honorable to marry one who is not pure… I am sorry Elizabeth.”

With that he turned and left me to my tears. Under my breath I murmured “you are not pure either…” I became a prisoner of the asylum of the unconsolable.

Something twisted in my head. It felt like a knife, or perhaps a lightning bolt.
Then the voices followed.

They entered quiet at first, like rain before a storm.  I couldn’t understand what they were saying, and nothing I did would shut them up. It seemed a million flies swarmed my head and there was no escape.

Then, on a Saturday morning I heard a whisper, clear as day. “Kill.”  It was not as convincing as confusing.  Again, “kill.”
All day and all night, different voices tormented me in different tones screaming, shrieking and whispering the word, “kill.”“Kill whom?” I wondered.  Then the visions started.



Fuzzy at first, I’d see Alfred and his new “oh so wonderful” virgin bride walking down the aisle.  The next minute, they’d both be dead somehow.  The visions got clearer and clearer.

And one day it was clear as a bell.  If I wanted Alfred back, all the virgins in the world must die by my hands. I found a reason to live again at that moment.

It seemed a third eye inside my mind guided me to her window.  She slept so peacefully, as I peered through the window. “How sweet.”  I thought. I crawled in through the window like a suitor might do.

I kneeled over her and whispered something in her ear.  Killing her in her sleep represented mercy. I possessed no mercy at that moment. The look on her face was priceless, when I raised the axe above her head. It belonged to the epitome of fear. I brought the axe down and swung it as if to behead her. Somehow she represented everything that ever went wrong in my life. I continued to swing the axe. She was dead after the first swing, but I countinued to let her have it until my arms were tired. When I was done with the axe, I sat down on her bed and marveled in the blood for a moment. The power I felt proved infinite.

The killings had nothing to do with Alfred now –It evolved.  It evolved into a full blown addiction.  An addiction like any other, cigarettes, murder: either will kill a person in the end.

I don’t know how many girls I killed before they caught me.  May they rest in peace on one tier of the afterlife or another.
Now, I’ve given you my testimony. My eternal soul lies in your hands. Cast your vote—if you dare.