To Become the Lady of Death by Laura Madeline Wiseman
To Become the Lady of Death
This last lady of death isn’t one you’d want to take home to mom, not to dad, not a trophy to show off at the office holiday party. Yes, she’s lady enough to wrap her head and throat in lace. Yes, her dress is of linen fine enough to last quite a few lives. Yes, her makeup is dark eyebrows, dark sockets, a darkness to fall into, but though her bow is wooden and sinew, the arrow carved sharp and feather tipped, she seems to offer her tools to anyone willing, saying. I’m done. Your turn. Here, there are no cameras. Here, I reach out and stroke the arrow’s tip.