The Sadness Is Sickening



The Sadness Is Sickening

A Creepypasta by: Vincent Crow

She was always beautiful. Even in death, her cold touch was soothing to my soul. Whenever I felt the urge to take the blade and end my life with it, I heard her gentle voice asking me to stop. I've been sitting in this palace of the dead for so long...that I swear it's heaven. I've grown so fond of it all. The darkness. The gray. The death. It's all so peaceful to me now. Then a force brings me back to life. The sadness for my lost Mary. Why does she retain her beauty? Why is she still so fair? Even after the alleged man who killed her had been caught, I felt no satisfaction. I long to be with her again. But the black robe of death refuses to meet with me. It refuses to come. Do I have it in myself to end it? Can I take the sheath that ended my love's life and finish mine too? I would gladly spend eternity in hell to see her one last time. Yet death refuses to come. The darkened sky seems so fitting for a morning like this. Or is it the night that brings my sorrow, as the sun vanquishes the darkness? I do not wish for the light. I wish for darkness. Just as I wish to see my lost love. As I relive the day that laughter died for the thousandth time when I lay my eyes on her, I recall another familiar emotion. The rage. It burns in me once again. And I want to see the end of my life. Taking it myself would mean my soul wanders in the pit mapped by Dante. I long for the end of my life. I long to see her again. I long for Mary....

A 2 fortnights have passed since her life was shattered within my arms. Long had we lived in the Whitechapel district of London. And only recently was it that a killer had begun terrorizing the night. They called him Jack The Ripper, a name that was instantly feared. He killed 6 women before setting his sights on my Mary. He never killed people that were not alone. I thought we were safe. I was wrong. He approached us at a slow pace. When he closed in on us I saw the whites of his eyes, and that was all the time I was given. He lunged at me and slashed, carving a bloody V in my chest. I was in shock when I was suddenly bashed to the ground and stabbed in the arm with a knife, no doubt rusted by the blood of his past victims. I was helpless when he set his sights on Mary. One stab was all it took to cause her death. The last I saw of that villain was his feet hitting the ground, now stained by the blood of my love and of mine as well. I held her in my arms as her final breath escaped her lips. Only then did I realize the killer had left his blade in the chest of my love. I retrieved it. Staring at the knife, how easy now to sacrifice my life to have her with me. But I was stopped by the law from committing the mortal crime. If only they had not. Oh God, I wish they had not. I wish they had not...

 A MESSAGE FROM THE AUTHOR 

This story will in fact continue on the 15th of next month. The story has elements of writings from Shakespeare, Cradle of Filth, Dante Allegerhi, and a bit of my own. I hope you enjoy this.