The strange story of Gladys the house-queen

Gladys was the queen of the house. She had inherited the household after her father had died. She was six at the time, but all the other cousins and uncles obeyed her as the rightful monarch. After thirty years of successful rule, she had a son with a guest who came from the northern side of the city. John was his name, and he was an issue for the stability of the family. His skin was too dark and his gender too male. Marianne, Gladys' third sister, spoke up, and that same day John felt uninvited and left the house.

For six months since that moment, Gladys felt as if her world had fallen apart for good. Her knight in poor clothes was gone and her kid was fatherless. She was the rightful heir of both the household and the boy, but she felt as if the greatness of the future depended on getting that man back, the one that was her second half. For two years Gladys looked for him while working in a designer's home as an assistant. The first half of her day was filled with measures and all kinds of fabric, and the second half had been shaped into a routine of wandering through different parts of the city asking for a dark-skinned John, about whom she knew no more.

When the seven-hundredth day was due to start, Gladys found John, lying still, eyes open, bleeding through his right ear, and on his neck, Marianne's necklace. There was no fury; only tears. She tried to stop the hiccup-like sobs, but out they came, followed by wails of sorrow. A hand came to her shoulder. She raised her head mid-sob and found the mourning gaze of her third sister. Gladys stood to hug her and noticed something black on Marianne's hand. A gun, she saw, the gun that killed John. She ran to the killer and hugged her deeply, even more than before, for she knew that they had loved each other, and that as long as birds could fly, the truth would be that she had killed the one that they both loved, and that now they shared a sorrow and the father of her child.

This story was kind of a joke because yesterday I had a comment thread under a post called "Is it bad to kill people?" and I laughed a lot when @raycoms suggested that I would embrace killers and rapists. I wouldn't, but I thought: "I could probably write a story where someone does that". It's a bit of an absurd story, and I only thought about the ending as I wrote it. It's done in a #freewrite style where I didn't plan anything, didn't edit, or think much about what I was doing until I was actually writing it. It's just a fun bit, and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.

The image at the start of the post is just one of the results when you google "necklace imgur".