The Head That Wears A Crown by J Deschene - Creepypasta
'The Head that Wears a Crown' - Jdeschene -- CreepyPasta Narration
"... Mary...."
This old castle is drafty. The night wind bounces off the walls, making queer noises. Sometimes, they sound like my name. I try not to listen, but as I lie here awake with a thousand anxieties swimming within me, anything that stirs my senses is a welcome diversion.
"... Mary...."
There is much to be troubled by. The people hate me. That can no longer be denied. They hate me, in no small measure, thanks to the man I have chosen to marry, a man who now, for all I know, lies far away in the bed of someone else. How I long for him! These sinful memories of the handful of nights he's come to my chamber... they drive me almost to solitary acts of depravity!
And how far I have fallen to even think such things! How can I ever hope to bring my people back to the true faith if I, myself, have thoughts so impure?
"... Mary...."
That wind again! It frightens me. It touches not my skin, and yet I am chilled nonetheless.
The people are cold to me. I must warm them to me. God in Heaven knows I've tried. I have tried kindness, forgiveness, mercy---all to no avail. They have forced my hand, made me to apply a different kind of heat.
It pains me to know how many have burned. My heart aches. Tears sting my eyes. But these things they do not see. They see only themselves and the others who have fallen as martyrs. And for what? Lies! Lies that were started by my father and, so they hope, shall be perpetuated by the whore's daughter once I'm gone. Treasonous! Blasphemy! Why have I allowed her to live?
Why? Because if I did not, there should be another rebellion. One which, I fear, would not fail.
"... Mary...."
There it is again! It was my name, surely. But not just my name. There is something with it, a word before it. I cannot tell what it is.
My agitation compels me to movement, and I pace the floor of my chamber. I shall have no rest tonight. It has been so long since my sleep was deep and unbroken. Perhaps in childhood all those years ago.
"... Mary...."
Again! Is it coming closer? What is it saying?
Witchcraft! It must be! Vengeance! They mean to destroy me!
Perhaps it is she, my sister, spawn of the whore on whom is placed the burden of so many souls' damnation. She means to get rid of me! She means to take my throne and cast this land even further into the pit of sin! I will not allow it!
"Our Father, which art in Heaven...."
"... Mary...."
It is clearer now. It is coming from the next room! There is someone here!
Why do the guards not come? Can they not hear it? Is it meant by some devil for my ears alone?
"... Mary...."
I can stand it no longer! I must know who or what it is that calls me! I must know what they call me, even if it be the end of me!
"... Mary...."
The mirror! That is where the voice is coming from. I still cannot understand the first word.
Good Lord, protect me! There is a light flickering in the glass! The longer I gaze upon it, the clearer the picture becomes!
I now stand face to face with a woman, staring out from the mirror. She is very young, no more than a child. The light that allows me to see her is a candle she holds before her. Even in the dim light, I can see that her hair is cut strangely, and her clothing is a long way from decent.
Hers is the voice. Not the wind's. I can hear her now, the name by which she calls me, clearer than ever....
"Bloody Mary...."
Silence. A clap of thunder rends the air. Her eyes grow wide. She sees me. Screams fill my ears. I cannot tell which are hers, and which are mine. Her light goes out, and she is gone.
My chamber is invaded by armed men. They find me in a heap on the floor, quaking and weeping bitterly. Word will reach the people soon enough. A fine state for their hated Queen.