She hurries into the kitchen, carefully adjusting the bow about her midriff. It always pays to look presentable, you never know when you might simply drop down dead, at least that was the advice her mother used to give and these things stick.
She reaches to her neck and gently pulls at her necklace, a gift from a birthday long gone.
“Right on time.” she thinks to herself, as the back door creaks open. She gets to work pulling open drawers. She doesn’t hurry so much as move with a swift determination. It must have been left around here SOMEWHERE.
A drawer rattles open, the clink of cutlery echoing the footstep behind her. She smiles and takes a step back, pirouetting gracefully, her arm follows bringing with it the wrench whistling through the air.
A dull, yet satisfying, thud is her reward as the wrench crushes the skull of her milkman’s reanimated corpse. She drops and rolls to one side to avoid the explosion of scarlet.
She stands up brushing dust from her dress and glances into the mirror.
“Well that just won’t do.” she states matter of factly.
A few small drops of blood have landed on her shoulder.
“That just won’t do at all.”
She wanders into the hallway and delicately pulls on the soft, white, cotton gloves she finds there.
She lifts the fire axe from its resting place next to the door, gripping it tightly, feeling the weight. She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes. A moment later they snap open, the door is opened carefully and closed behind her.
“Time to go get a new dress I suppose”
She turns to face the horde.
dailybridgerton
titsay
areudirty
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