Killer Queen

What makes the perfect Queen? Honesty, kindness, beauty? Queen Helena had all of that, plus the intention to kill anyone who did her wrong. She’s a young queen, her father passing away when she was only 19. Now an older woman, her beautiful black hair falls perfectly down her back. Her piercing blue eyes matched with her pale complexion make the boys go crazy. Asking someone about her you’d get an answer like:

“She’s guaranteed to blow your mind.”

Whether that’s her hostess skills or actually blowing your head off, you can pick. Helena is having her annual holiday party. Everyone wishes they were on her list, not knowing the people on her list aren’t friends. They’re enemies. She invites only a few to the party. Mostly it’s wrongful politicians or crooked rich folk.

If you looked at her from afar, you wouldn’t think of her as a cold-blooded killer, but who knows, the person next to you could be one too.

“Fiona! My dress!” she yells with an angry face.

“I’m coming, Your Highness, I am terribly sorry,” Fiona says, running into the room out of breath.

“You wouldn’t need to be sorry if you were on time now would you?”

“No, ma’am,” Fiona says, placing the corset around Helena’s waist.

As she begins to tie the laces, Helena’s face becomes tight with annoyance.

“Tighter,” she says, holding onto the bedpost.

Fiona nods her head before pulling.

“Tighter.”

“Your Highness, if I go any t—” Helena interrupts her.

“Tighter.” Fiona pulls hard, making Helena gasp.

“I am terribly s—” Fiona starts.

“If you say you are sorry one more time...” Helena warns.

Once her dress is on, she shoos Fiona out and stands in front of the mirror. Her dress, a beautiful maroon, hugs her hips perfectly and flows down to the ground. She touches the puff on her left sleeve, running her hand down her arm. She takes a deep breath before walking out of the room.

She soon greets everyone before sitting down for dinner. She sits at the head of the table and watches everyone in their mindless conversations. Little did they know that would be the last conversation they would ever have.

“We have to give a big thank you to my staff for making us this delicious dinner,” Helena gestures over to her help and starts to clap. The whole table then erupts in applause.

“Now if you will all follow me to the resting quarters we will retire to have some tea and desserts.”

While everyone piled into the room, Helena stands outside, smiling at them all. When everyone is seated, the staff bring out a few silver platters.

“Oh Helena, is that gelatin?”

“Why yes it is Harold, I thought we would try something a bit different. You see, I’ve heard great things about this gelatin from the Americans.”

“I’m going to excuse myself for a moment, please continue your chatter.” Helena stands up and exits the room.

She walks into the room across the hallway and closes the door behind her. There she picks up a towel that lays over a bin. She opens the bin and it is filled to the brim with gun powder. She touches her fingertips inside the bin and smells the air before closing it and grabbing her gun.

She then walks back into the room, gun behind her hand.

“I want to thank you all for coming here tonight. It was truly a privilege to get to know you better.”

“Harold Lancaster, Prime Minister. Have you seen the chaos you have brought to the people of this great land?”

“I’m sure I do not know what you mean Helena,” Harold says, raising his eyebrow.

Helena pulls the gun from behind her back and aims it at Harold’s head before shooting, blood splattering on her face.

“It’s Queen Helena to you.”

The guest gasp and try to run, but Helena’s staff stops them from going.

“Lady Jane, what an ungrateful whore you are.” Helena shoots Jane right in the forehead before moving on.

She goes to a few other people before leaving one left.

“Last—but certainly not least—my son, Prince Liam. Did you not think I could spell Lady Jane’s perfume on you?”

“Mother, I do not know what you are talking about, you are crazy,” Liam says back to his mother.

“That’s no way to talk to your mother boy. You disgraced this family with your sinful actions, and that is why I shall get rid of you.”

Helena shoots Liam in the chest and he collapses to the ground, clutches his wound.

“Fiona, clean this up. I am tired, I am going to bed now,” Helena says, fixing her dress to look presentable. Blood is still splattered on her face and her clothes.

“Yes, Your Highness.” Fiona begins cleaning the blood out of the carpet. Once she is done she and a few other helpers throw the bodies into the Thames, and never speak of the party again.