Black Sheep — White Death

Dianne walked the streets of darkness under the bright daylight. Sameness covered her. She abhorred every reminder of her humanity, but once the day of duty arrived, she had to become human again.

Street vendors harassed everyone but a select few who seemed not to have much money or purpose being there. Their voices chanted and the choir of humanity enchanted her ears. They were a beautiful bunch in their vulgarity. Again, she cringed at the thought that she was one of "them".

She hurried her steps. The streets were long and the market eternal. At the end of it, however, once the voices dwindled and the sun began to become hidden behind the residential buildings, once the road became steeper and serpentine, the smell of the trees enchanted her and reminded her of the beauty of existing, regardless of her nature.

She exited civilization a few minutes afterwards, surprised at how easy it was to get away from the most populated area in the city and into the void of nothingness. This was private property, but no one cared for it. The branches harshly caressed her clothes and ripped lines and triangles. She walked forward without seeming to notice.

This road was longer than the one before. The mountain was steeper. The sun lowered itself and warmed her cheeks. She covered them with her hair, thanked her humanity and smiled.

A wall approached her. She followed it along. A door came into view. It was open ajar. It always was. There was no reason why anyone would try to kill them. Not an outsider anyway. She walked in and found a magificent fountain in the middle of an orange path between two walls of hedges. She had walked this path before. Every king rose after a ritual of tears and mourning.

The path turned left and she stopped for a second to admire the mansion from afar. It was always so empty that it was sad, but therein were carried the most important decisions of this side of the city. It was a wonder how anyone still obeyed these scoundrels she had cursed.

They were not real kings, but they walked with a royal gait and people worshipped them. Their real protection was two towers she saw standing at the sides at the end of the path. She walked toward them. They saluted her and she smiled. She wondered if ever there would be an heir who would speak of her misdeeds. So far, they seemed contented with the hastened succession.

Did each heir think that each king that died by her hands was the first one? Did each king not tell their heir the story of their quick success? Perhaps they feared their sons would realise they could do it themselves. They were not known for being smart, only rich and successful. And anyway, her lifetime was coming to an end. It was a wonder she had lasted so far.

Looks of fear came upon everyone as she approached. They all knew of the blackness of her wool, of her old indiscretions and rebellions. She was probably a fable with a moral teaching loyalty and obedience. She smiled as the chandeliers and long sofas casually passed her by. For some reason she could not understand, she abhorred wealth and preferred misery.

Her footsteps resounded through the lonely corridor. She walked slowly toward her grand-nephew's sleeping chambers. She savoured the feeling. Her heart beat faster. Without looking, she took out a pair of black gloves, put them on, and then took out a piece of paper.

Knock, knock

The door opened on her second knock. The king lay dead, bleeding from his eyes, nose, mouth and ears. His white sheets were now bicolored, tainted with beautiful red and some lavender directly under his head.

"Had I known you were coming, I wouldn't have bothered", came a youthful voice from beside her.

She jumped in fright and pulled out a tiny gun from her sweater's pocket.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down", said her grand-grand-nephew.

"You murdered your father", she hissed and her hands trembled slightly as she pointed her gun at him.

"You were here to do the same, am I wrong?", he worriedly retorted with a testy sarcastic smile.

"It's different", she said.

"How is it different when you do it?", he asked.

"It's... I vowed... You murdered your own father", she finally whispered to herself, though the room was so quiet that he clearly heard it.

"Yeah", he said, tilting his head to the right, testing her expression.

She waited quietly there for a minute that felt eternal. Finally, she slowly turned to look at the dead man, then at his son, breathed deeply and exhaled, finally closing her eyes and lowering her gun to the ground.

"I guess...", she muttered. "At least they all died before power tainted them"

She rose her gun again and the young man started and inhaled.

A quick, flat and dry gunshot rang. Two seconds afterwards, a silky thump hit the ground.

"I guess my duty ends here with the family", she told herself with deep melancholy in her voice. Humanity had cursed her with the promise of death, but at least she would walk to the netherworld with a raised head. She pulled the gun to her head.

This is a quickly-written story I made for this reddit writing prompt.