Elizabeth Bathory (warning: bloody, strange...lol...etc...) *based on a true story*)

A seizure began to take control of Elizabeth’s body. Nevertheless, she was use to it; they have happened to her since she was a child, around the age of five. Harsh insults to the servants standing on the opposite side of the door escaped her mouth. Elizabeth cried out in pain. The howl echoed loudly in the small, dark room she called her own. Her whole body was shaking. Before fainting, she called out into the nothingness with her last gasping breath, “More, ever more, harder, harder!”

Elizabeth was awakened by a brief shriek down the hallway. Her accomplices had begun torturing without her. They would be punished for that. She heaved a sigh when she realized the time. The sun was high in the sky, pouring light into her gloomy room. Hours of torment had already passed her by. Elizabeth shielded her amber eyes from the brightness as she stood from her bed. Calling her washerwoman, Kateline, for assistance, Elizabeth silently strolled into her dressing room.

A young girl hurriedly entered the room, slightly panting. Her face was flushed red. She apologized for making Elizabeth wait and blamed Thorko, a manservant to the Countess, for her absence. Elizabeth waved away the explanation. Kateline gently brushed Elizabeth’s lengthy raven hair that flowed to her waist. Gawking at the beautiful mirror that stood before them, Elizabeth smiled to herself; pleased of the design she had created for it years ago. Kateline helped her mistress into a heavenly white dress. The Countess was now prepared for her shower.

In the torture chamber, Thorko studied the row of bounded maidens. They would have been pretty, if it was not for the ropes and chains that held them to the blood-covered wall. Open wounds and bruises marked their bodies as though they have just fought a deadly war. However, he knew that they weren’t battling, for they could not. Elizabeth had complete control over everything they did by making them suffer from the most inhuman acts of punishment. She whipped them until they bled and burned them with fiery pokers. She would slice their fingers with scissors, prick their gashes with razor-sharp needles, and stab them with daggers. Sometimes while she was sick, Elizabeth would order one to come to her bedside and bite them. This horrific feat lead people to believe she was the first vampire, although she did not drink the blood.

Thorko carelessly chose a brunette from the group. They were becoming scarce, so now it did not matter which adolescent would take her final breath next. Soon he would have to send Kardoska out to collect new young, precious women. This, he knew, is more difficult now than it had before Erza the Sorceress convinced Elizabeth to only bathe in the blood of noblemen's daughters. People had begun to take notice of the many girls who have had an unusual death, each of them passing away near this area.

The manservant dragged the maiden's mud-colored hair and opened the door to an old, rusty cage. The inside of the cage was lined with a variety of sharp objects: knifes, blades, daggers... It was an aichmophobic's nightmare. He shoved her inside of it. Tears began to stream down her face. Thorko had thrown her into her doom. He strode over to pulley on the other side of the room and gave it a few tugs, lifting up the spiked cage that now held the terrified girl. She stayed in the center of the cage where none of the points could damage her skin. Thorko could see the dismay in her eyes; he could hear her quick, panting breaths. A small grin crept upon his face as he felt the tension in her heart. A heart that would soon no longer be beating.

Elizabeth entered the room gracefully, letting her elegant dress flow out from behind her. She did not once speak a word to Thorko, nor did she lift her gaze too examine her fresh victim. Elizabeth kept calm, even though she sensed the apprehensiveness above her. Thorko watched Elizabeth sit on a footstool directly underneath the cage, and anticipated her signal to start. He seized a sweltering poker from the small fireplace near him.

As Thorko slowly positioned the small metal pole towards the cage, the petrified maiden backed away from him. The point of a knife broke into the skin on her back, causing a single driblet of blood to fall onto the Countess‘s soft, pale cheek. Elizabeth continued to stare blankly at the wall, not blinking as if in a trance. Then the drop trickled down, caressing her neck before it collided with the top of Elizabeth’s dress, vitiating the pure white cloth with a spot of red liquid.

Thorko instantaneously jabbed the steaming poker into the caged girl’s stomach, thrusting her into many sharp articles. They pierced through her limp body. Her eyes showed no emotion as they rolled into the back of her head. Blood cascaded over Elizabeth, drenching every inch of her body, her clothes, and her hair. It flooded the area surrounded the Countess, staining old, crusty blood from the previous day’s events. The other girls watched in horror, knowing their time would come soon enough.

Heaving the large contraption back to the ground, Thorko stared into the cage, and observed that in place of the lively, faint-hearted girl, blades covered with blood now impaled a motionless corpse. He smiled inwardly; proud that tonight had been successful. As Thorko gazed up, he noticed that Elizabeth had risen off her footstool and was wandering out the door. Her brilliant crimson dress left a sleek trail of fresh blood behind.

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