Countess

Her long curly hair was graying and she hated it. It angered her that she got old, like everyone else, because she wanted to be young and beautiful. But she found what helped; the blood of a virgin, of which her maids were the perfect source.

“What are you going to do to me?” cried the young maid.

The Countess didn't answer the poor girl’s question in words but only in actions. The young maid was dead seconds later.

After the murder, the Countess looked in her grand mirror. She was satisfied. The reflection showed a lady with hair that was a lovely honey blonde, the eyes were bright blue and not blood-shot, and the skin was wrinkle-free. She looked at least thirty years younger.

“What are you doing?” asked the head maid. This woman knew of the Countess’s new obsession.

“You know very well what I’m doing.”

“You do know that blood does not make you look younger,” Mary told her.

“Yes, it does! You shall never speak to me that way again!” snapped the Countess.

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Sarah knew she was next. Running through the corridors and passages, she heard footfalls, as though someone was chasing her. The beating of her panicked heart shot pain through her body. Her feet were faster than her mind when she tripped onto the cold floor. She let out a harsh scream as the footfalls neared. The skirt tore when she stood to run again. Her breath caught as she kept running. The hand came out of nowhere and grabbed her neck, followed by her mouth.

Countess Elizabeth Bathory had murdered yet another innocent soul.