Druscilla White and the Living Corpse is Doomed.

By: Druscilla White

Writing Prompt: No

Date: 16th Sep 2021

I took a beating, Enforcer was dead set on letting me overtake him. But I gave as good as I got. Clothesline after clothesline, slam after slam; I just kept coming. Unrelenting in my goal to be victorious. I bit his thigh and the blood tasted wonderful! He yanked away, screaming, and we continued our dance of pain! Did he not realize letting me get this close was a bad idea? He flung me into the center of the ring. We were both tired. Both wanted the win. But I had much more fire in me than he ever saw coming. More than the whole of Fight knew I possessed. I pushed myself up. I ran at him.

My elbow connected with his smug fucking face. I could hear the squelch. I grinned, sickeningly. To the top turnbuckle I pounced, I looked to the crowd and held my arms out. Acknowledging their cheers. Hyping them up, to hype myself up. Gaining their fury. They chanted my name! I dropped The Enforcer with a Frankensteiner from Hell and grabbed the win!

I spat down at him as I bounced from the ring. My two personal guards, Roscoe and Memphis, greeted me. Walking back up the ramp, grabbing hands of fans and giving high fives it was then I knew. This was exactly where I belonged. Danny was right. All those years ago, he was right.

This is who I was. This is what I was meant to be.

The three of us walked down the halls of Hearst Tower, to my room to shower and change, and it hit me. Like a ton of bricks. The memory bubbled to the surface, pushing everything else to the back burner…


”Come on Dru! Let’s get a move on!” His voice echoed, easily, through the house, trying to urge me to get moving. I grumbled and mocked him as I came down the stairs, long black hair spun in dreads. The thick, torn Jnco jeans swished as I walked, my suitcase squeaking pathetically behind me. “Don’t get your panties in a wad, jeeze.” Dad scowled, getting up from his chair in the living room, walking to his eldest son. He handed him an envelope. ”This is for you, I want you to have fun, Daniel, even if you are taking… her.” Danny said nothing.

He clapped Danny on the back and smiled, but before he knew it, I had come to stand beside them. Danny tucked the envelope in his jacket and rested his arm on my head. ”I know, Dad, I will. We will.” He smiled down at me, but Dad just grumbled. I looked up to my father, I knew I disappointed him, I knew I was a mistake in his eyes, but I always wanted to make him proud. ”Don’t worry Daddy, I’ll take care of him!” I chirped, the way the man looked at me, slapped me clear across the face. I looked and saw Diesel at the staircase, glaring at me. He was sick, and this was supposed to be his trip with Danny, I felt bad he wasn’t able to go. He’d been so excited. But despite his jealousy, we hugged tightly, and as I kissed him on the cheek he shoved me away. Danny laughed. I scowled a little. ”NASTY! Dru!!!!” He wiped the kiss away and flipped me off, I just wrinkled my nose at him before he bolted up the stairs.

”I’ll bring you a gift back!” I hollered, rather obnoxiously and the end result was Dad slapping the back of my head. Hard. He glared at me, and as I rubbed my head, I fought the urge to break down and cry. ”Do not taunt him, this was his trip with Daniel, not yours. I shouldn’t even let you go, you’re not worth the waste of a trip.” I looked down, cowed, at my ratty old shoes. ”Yes, Sir…”

The dream moved faster, forward in time just slightly…

”Pip, they’re angry, but not at you. Darlene and Darcy died well…. They … They just broke. It’s not you, honest, ok?” I nodded, but let’s face it, they hated me. I tried so hard to be like Danny. Stoic. Strong. Smart. But what I didn’t realize was, I already was like him, and then some.

I was top of my class, stronger than Danny himself, and the amount of stoicism I had was immeasurable. I bore it all with grace and a smile. Once we left the driveway, my mood changed. I saved for months to have some spending money on the trip; but the original plan was to send Diesel with my money to bring me home something.

The sun was overcast today, a rather perfect way to leave Vegas behind, if only for a while.
We laughed and talked as we drove to the airport, my ticket safely tucked in my bag. I had never left Nevada before, and this trip was halfway across the country. Louisiana! Granted, it was February, it was cold there, but I’d deal with the temperatures then. I just wanted to see someplace where the sun went down and the stars could be seen.

Once more, the memory zoomed. Pushing me further and further down this road…

The adventure was beginning! Little did I know, this trip would set me on the path to discovering just exactly who I was, and begin the journey of who I wanted to be.

I’d seen pictures of Mardi Gras, but had never been allowed to discuss even wanting to go, until Daniel decided he wanted to visit our cousins in New Orleans. I smelled the cajun spices on the winds and my mouth began to water. I hauled my 35mm camera from my bag and began to take pictures of the snow, the people, the floats, the balloons and decorations, everything. I wanted to remember it all!

A large brown, brick building on the corner sprawled over them as the driver stopped and parked. Our hotel.

”Oh my… I want to live here!” I cooed, hauling my bag onto my shoulder while Danny grabbed the rest of the suitcases and tipped the driver. He chuckled. “Maybe one day, Pip, maybe one day.”

The trip seemed to whizz by as Danny and I had our adventures throughout the city. We’d been to the cafes, the roadhouses, the VooDoo women who told me of the storms in my future, even the historic homes. We ventured to the bayou, trekked through the frozen swamps. But what transpired those last three days are what truly stuck with me.

Banners had been put up all over New Orleans advertising a wrestling troupe. I begged Danny to go, this was part of Louisiana and I wanted to take it all in!

We’d bought tickets to a NoLA wrestling event, where I saw her. Louisa Massacre. This woman, 5 feet 5 inches, throws her opponents around like rag dolls. Bending their bodies until they cried for mercy. I was mesmerized. My heart began to race, my breathing quickened. Before I knew it, I was on my feet screaming for Louisa Massacre, cheering her on as she pulled every victim into a submission hold. I watched her drop a massive Frankensteiner on her victim. The blood that oozed from their mouth was a testament to her abilities.

I wanted to do what she did!

Dragon chops. Clotheslines. Steel chairs. This was the epitome of amazing to me! I’d never, ever seen anything like this in my life! The way she lifted her opponent, dropped them on their head or back. The way she prowled the ring. Glaring down at them. Cursing them to try and stand up only to have her beat them once more into submission.

I had to do what she did!

I was 14 years old, a whole 5 feet 3 inches, a cross between a Goth and a Punk, leaning against the railing, with Danny holding my belt loops, to cheer on Louisa more. As Louisa looked up, being crowned the Carnival champ, she smiled at me. At ME!! She reached up to touch my outstretched hand and held it tightly for a moment. Louisa then nodded to her manager, signaling to have me brought to her dressing room. Once the guards grabbed me and Danny, my face lit up. I pranced behind the massive men, looking to my brother with something he’d never seen before; absolute Joy. I was free-flying and never wanted to come down!

Crossing the threshold into Louisa Massacre’s den, I introduced myself as eloquently as I could. ”Miss Massacre, I’m.. I’m Druscilla White! Your show… WOW! I mean, how you did that… Wow! Amazing! I’ve never seen anyone do that to another human being, let alone someone as big as they were! WOW!! You’re… you’re amazing!”

Louisa smiled, pulling her golden crown from her hair, turning to face me. The woman’s brown, soulful eyes focused only on me. She pushed a stray dread from my face and smiled again before she spoke. “My goodness, Druscilla, that’s an intimidating name for such a sweet young lady.” Danny stood behind me, protectively watching the exchange between us two ladies. I wrinkled my nose as she called me sweet. ”I take it you enjoyed the show?” She chuckled. I nodded, furiously, my crystal eyes wide with fascination and adoration. Louisa smiled once more, placing her crown on the table.

”I want to be like you!” Louisa grinned, looking at my brother, she smiled broadly. ”And you two are visitors to our fine state?” Danny nodded, but before he could speak, I chimed in! ”Yes Ma’am! We’re from Las Vegas, but it’s much prettier here! This is my first trip anywhere! I love it here!” Louisa laughed at my enthusiasm, nodding her head. ”Well, I imagine Las Vegas is pretty in its own right. But, you are correct, our little place is as pretty as could be. Much like you, Druscilla.”

I blushed, tucking my hands deep in the massive Jnco jeans pockets. A shy trait I’d had pretty much kicked into me. Louisa looked at Danny, once more, then glanced to her guard behind him, motioning for him to bring the polaroid camera. ”Come here, let’s commemorate this then, your first adventure, little Prophet.”

She pulled me and Danny into a group photo, placing the championship crown on my head. I was wide-eyed in absolute awe, looked at Louisa and hugged her tightly. ”Say “Cheese” my little Prophet, so you’ll always see the Queen Prophetess you are.”

Danny smiled, happy I had this moment in my memory now, and even more so that the photo came out as fantastic as he’d hoped. Louisa looked me in the eyes, seriously, and spoke softly. ”I see Greatness in you, Druscilla, a deep darkness but a fierce greatness. I see an immovable being with the force bestowed on High. You will do whatever you put your mind to, and no one will be able to stand in your way. They’ll bow to you, or fall away. A Prophet. Feared and respected. I expect in a few years, I’ll be the one cheering you on in the ring.” She pulled a small card from her purse, signed her name and added something then handed it to me. ”The next time you’re in Louisiana, give me a call.”

I smiled, mystified by Louisa’s words; I let them all soak in. Once I had the polaroid and card with her personal number on it tucked safely away in my wallet, after Louisa Massacre signed the photo, and Danny and I had been sent on our way; I was on cloud 9.

The rest of the trip was a blur. One that faded into memory. Locked away in my mind palace, that nobody could destroy. Not even my parents could bring me down from this heaven. This was something no one could ever, ever take away from me. And in the grayscale tones of my life; this was the brightest star in my torn blanket of sky. For that week… My whole life started to make sense.

”I see Greatness in you, Druscilla, a deep darkness but a fierce greatness.”….. That echoed in my mind as I fell down the rabbit hole..

Snapping back to the present, Roscoe looked at me as if I were crazed. ”Boss?” I blinked a few times… ”Where did you go, just then?” I wiped my face with a towel and shrugged. “Someplace bittersweet.” He quizzically looked at Memphis then opened the door to my suite. I dropped the towel and yanked my tank top off, kicking my boots back by the door. Piling my clothes in the hamper, I walked nude to the shower.

That’s when I heard it. A man cleared his throat. My heart stopped. I turned around, fully naked. ”Kid, put some clothes on!” Henry’s voice seemed to go up an octave as he turned around. Annoyed. “Why? It’s my suite?” He cleared his throat again, ”I just wanted to congratulate you.”

”Well, thanks Henry.” This whole day has brought up memories for me. Family. Fights. Loss. I was on autopilot, just going through the motions. ”We need to work on your routine, kid. You did good tonight, real good. But you want more than good. You want to be the best, then let’s work on that. Enforcer took you for granted. He let you get in some wicked shots… But that bite. What was that?..” Memphis perked up a bit. “I rather liked that. She is known as a vicious one, and biting him kind of proved that.” Roscoe nodded, cracking a DruBrew and gulping some down. ”He’s right, Henry. She has those fangs, why not use them? Not like the ref called her on it, I mean.”

Henry clenched his jaw as the boys went back and forth. I was in the shower, but I said nothing. He noted it was odd, but went back to listening to Roscoe and Memphis. ”Whoever she faces next, will be a springboard.” Roscoe gulped more of the pale ale. ”When did she do that bid? Did she talk about it with any of us?” ”Dude, she’s Pres, she does what she wants. And I was there.” Memphis nodded a bit, popping a chip in his mouth. “That is definitely something she and I need to talk about.” Henry barked as I exited the shower.

I was a ghost. Gone. “Kid, look, the next bout, you need to focus harder. Dial it in. We start a new routine tomorrow mor–” As the sound trailed completely off, discussing the next match became a memory. A fog rolled in, thick and almost palpable.


Danny brought our bags in, and I skipped inside behind him. Diesel met me by the door, his eyes wide and worried. He tried to warn me, but before he could even speak a hand struck me. I fell to the side, confused. Shocked. Rubbing my jaw, the tears welled up. ”Dad!” Danny interjected but he was too late. Dad grabbed me up by my shirt collar and struck me again. ”Damn you, girl!” Once more, struck, my cheek was blood red and soon a deep bruise began to form beneath my eye. ”Dad! Stop!” Diesel tried to get in between us, but Mom pulled him away, whispering; ”Stop it Diesel, let your father talk with your sister.” Talk with? Who the fuck was she kidding?

He dragged me through the entry way and into the living room where my dream box had been opened and laid out in front of everyone. He threw me down beside it. Photos of places I wanted to go. Sketches I’d done. Poems I’d written. Photos of my sisters… taped back together. I looked up at him. “… I’m sorry…” He knelt down, striking me once more. ”Damn you girl! Where do you get off? Hmm?” I began to cry, clutching the things I cared most about in my small, frail hands. Danny and Diesel stood there, helpless, looking to our mother for her to stop this.

She turned and walked away. Dad continued yelling at me. ”This should have been YOU!” He took the pictures of Darlene and Darcy and tore them up, again, flinging them into the trash.
”You should have been the one to die, not our girls…” I was flattened, he’d shoved me over as he stood. Leaning over the mantle ”Why… were you in my room?” I whispered, trying so hard to stop crying. He glared at me, yanking his belt from its resting place on his waist. Diesel tried to step in, once more, but Dad pushed him away. ”No boy, she has to learn…” My eyes were wide, I tried to scoot away but I didn’t move fast enough. The belt struck my hand… It stung terribly.

The polaroid and business card fell out of my pocket as I scrambled to curl up. Protect the more squishy bits of my anatomy. He swung the belt, it struck my back. I wailed! Then he noticed the polaroid… He bent down to pick it up. ”What the fuck is this?” He looked at me, then to Danny. ”Daniel, what the fuck is this?”

”We saw a show, Dad, and one of the ladies wanted to take a picture with Dru and me, you know, keepsake.” Dad chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, then he tore the photo and business card in half. I reached out, obviously hurting, as the shards of the photo fell at his feet. He turned to look down at me. ”Why? She’s not worth the fucking effort of remembering.” He scoffed, ”She could never be a wrestler… She’s too damned weak. Too fucking stupid…” He swung the belt again, I curled up tight and the scream echoed into reality.

….. As the fog began to thin, I woke in my bed with a jolt, breathing heavily… My back and hand hurt. “Fuck you..” I whispered to the darkness. The Wolves, and Henry had long since left my home, it was still dark outside. I curled my knees to my chest as Reaper and Hel came to rest next to me. ”Why? Why does that have to be a memory I have? Haven’t I proven over and over that man was a fucking liar? I AM worth remembering. I am the motherfucking Prophet!” I looked at the walls of my bedroom; clippings of my matches, photos with fans, sketches fans had drawn, flyers from my matches.

These reminders. Cherished. But also, necessary. I doubted myself so much, Roscoe had hung these so I always saw how worthy I was. How strong I was. For fucks sake, I was alive and my father had died… not my father, the male figure who was supposed to be a father figure. I was living and breathing, doing what I swore I would be doing all those years ago, and he’s fucking maggot chow. ”Look at me now, you piece of shit… Doing exactly what I said I would! And where are you? Hmm? Dead, you sick fuck!” I yelled into the darkness. I had become a wrestler. A respected one. A Feared one. One that people wanted to be like. I hadn’t had a family, but I had my Wolf family. I had my Fight!NYC family. I had Mama, Henry and even my cats. I had a shot at the Bareknuckle Championship.

”I see Greatness in you, Druscilla, a deep darkness but a fierce greatness.”

The echo of Louisa Massacre’s voice. Welling up to the forefront of my mind. Greatness. Darkness. But Greatness. Maybe she was right. Maybe she knew exactly what my life held. Had she seen a glimpse of my future? I wish.. Fuck that, no I don’t. I own my life. The good AND the bad. You really couldn’t have one without the other. Much like good and evil. Like Mama and Henry. Hell, even Vhodka and her weird addiction of Nacho Cheese Doritos. Even if they were the redheaded stepchild of the chip world.

I stood up, walked to my window and perched in the sill. Looking out over New York. A tear slid from my eyes and dripped onto my black negligee. I hadn’t suffered too many bad bruises from the last match. A few. Maybe being slammed around so much by The Enforcer was why these memories kept returning to me. Haunting me. I could see the top of my building from Fight Tower. Thanks to the fucking morons hellbent on killing one another, we’d been placed on a bit of a lockdown. Apparently new rules were being implemented. So, for tonight, I was stuck here. Diesel had brought the kitties, and a few other items I needed, to Hearst tower before he headed home. I wasn’t going to make him stay in lockdown with me. I knew Roscoe and Memphis were in the room next door to mine, and those two were all I needed.

”I can do this.” I muttered. Grabbing my cigarette case and lit a joint. I took a drag and held it in for a moment. Exhaling slowly, I looked back out over the city. ”I was born to do this.” I took another puff, as Reaper hopped up onto the sil with me. He was getting big! His loud whistle-purr seemed to cut the silence like a knife; and meant more to me than I think he’d ever realize. I rubbed his chin and smiled as he kept whistle-purring happily. ”This is my destiny, Reaps.” He chirped a bit, lifting one of his massive murder mittens and pawed at my hand.

I hauled him into my lap. He was heavy, so heavy I laughed a bit as he tried to get comfortable. He looked up at me, as if to say he agreed. That wrestling was, in fact, my destiny, and that I could do anything I put my mind to. My phone howled and as I reached behind me, trying to grab it, I almost slipped off the windowsill! I caught myself, barely, and read the email I’d received. A missive from Fight. The newest card had been released. I grinned, my fangs glimmered almost sadistically.

Your next show is Venom 8. Your opponent is Anne Boleyn. She’s new, do welcome her the way we know you do best. – Miss F.”

Oh, she doesn’t know what she’s signed up for…

Several days later, still in the midst of working out, I had a brief moment where I considered walking away. The papers went on and on about the feud between Dane and Joe. The news talked about the lockdown that had occurred at Venom last week. I couldn’t escape the thought I was being eclipsed. That maybe, just maybe, I hadn’t made enough of a splash. I didn’t care about the publicity, my fans knew I loved them, and they were more loyal than media outlets.

But, the whole feud had me thinking. Some of these wrestlers I called my friends, were they really? Would they come if I needed them? If something happened to me, would they fight to help? Or would they shake their heads and walk on? I liked to think people like Dane Preston, Austin and Todrick Ramsay, Vhodka and even Vincent would, but given we all did like one another, I was usually the quiet one who stayed in the background. Old habits die hard and all that. Now, I could for sure name some names of those who would piss on my grave and throw a party if I quit. It’s a much, much longer list.

But, for that brief moment, walking away seemed like a good thing. Until a text came in. From Jennie. She’d been training for her first match with us at Fight and wanted to remind me we had a gaming night scheduled. I smiled.

Staying was a better idea.

Even if the aforementioned wrestling friends didn’t come running if I needed them, I would always come if they needed anything. I’d proven that many times over. I had helped Austin when he needed it.

I sent Sahara a gift basket, merely because when I spotted the items, I thought of her. I had sent Michelle a pampering basket before their son had been born. I rooted for Dane and Allison to reconcile. Robi nailed it when we met. I was as loyal as they came.

I brought that fire to every single event I planned, a match I participated in, a friendship I cultivated or business I ran.

I was the unstoppable force behind the scenes. But once I ducked below those ropes and planted my feet in the ring?

I was Death.

The most feared horseman of the apocalypse.

Inside Hearst Tower, I was the epitome of ruthless.

This was my home. Wrestling wasn’t just in my blood, it was who I was. Who I was born to be. Every scar. Every bad relationship. Every curse. Every painful thing I endured. It led me to this. To this place.

From Fade 2 black.

From Outlaw Professional Wrestling.

To Fight! NYC.

This place is where I belonged, and not a single damned person could ever change that.

Not Dickie Watson.

Not Miss F.

Not even Anne Fucking Boelyn.

Poor, unfortunate soul…

The cemetery was dreary. Quiet save for a few evening birds. The moon was bright in a starless sky. The Prophet stood beside an unmarked gravestone.. but it wasn’t unmarked. As the camera began to focus, the name “Anne Boleyn” came into view. A cauldron to her right was bubbling and burbling over a fire. She leaned on the handle of a shovel. “Anne… Anne… Annie. You think now was a good time to leave your grave? To come play with me? Sure, I’ve faced Gods, I’ve faced men. What’s a zombie?” She smiled, placing a silver dagger on the headstone. ”Wife of a King who overthrew the church, only to have her head lopped off. Poor thing. You should have stayed asleep, Annie. You are not for this world. Things have changed, pet, we toppled monarchies. Royals have no power here. You have no power here.” Dru moved like a predator, eyes focused intently on the lens, and even the crowd of Wolves behind it. She growled, softly.

”Aren’t you dead tired?” Grin! “You know, just because you could wake up doesn’t mean you should have, darling. You probably would have been better off rolling over, changing the side of the pillow and going back to sleep. Fighting isn’t your forte. I mean, how could it be? You lost your head over a man!” She chuckled, yes, the jokes were in poor taste, but this was Dru. Who suffered at the expense of poor comedians for years over what she looked like and what she chose as her profession. “Kitten, I think what I’m saying, is that sometimes, shit happens, someone has to deal with it, and who ya gunna call?” She hummed the Ghostbusters theme a bit and smiled, pouring some salt around three sides of the grave that had been dug. Dru then motioned for “her” to get in. ”C’mon now, let’s go back to sleep… Get in! It’s nice and warm! All ready to have you tucked in for beddy-by.”

”You have no idea what you’re in for, Princess. I’m Druscilla. I’m the Prophet. I have conquered greater things in heaven and earth than you’ve ever dreamed. I’ve walked through fire. I’ve bathed in the blood of those who opposed me. I’ve sent men and women to their graves crying and begging for mercy. And what did you do? Wed a king, failed to give him what he wanted and died for it?… Classic.” She began to applaud softly. ”You’ve got balls, kitten.Thinking you can climb in the ring with me, and win? Cute. Ballsy, but cute. Thinking you stand a chance against me though, that takes the cake. Sure you have your head sewed on straight? You’re coming from the 1500’s, right? Have any idea what century this is? See those big, shiny metal things zooming around you? They’re cars. Horse and carriage went the way of the dodo, Kitten. No one will curtsey to you. No one will bow to you. They bow to me, bitch. You will bow to me, bitch.” Again, Dru moved slowly, boots trampling a few clods of dirt as she reached into her clutch producing a smudge stick. She held it to the flames and smiled as it burned. Her coven began to chant softly as they, too, smudged the grave.

”We’re polar opposites, kitten. You were aristocratic. I was a street kid. You were pampered, I was beaten. Things were expected of you; my family wanted to see me die. You married into royalty. You became queen, however short lived that was. I fought to survive. I climbed this ladder rung by rung by myself.” The coven began to pour candle wax over the headstone, still chanting. A light glimmered from beyond the cemetery, unnaturally moving towards the grouping. Dru smiled. She leaned against the headstone.

”I could stand here and prattle on and on about how I’ll knock your block off… oops? Too late. I could wax on about cutting you down in your prime.. Oh no, did I do that again?” She grinned, those fangs flashing in the moonlight! There they were! Her trademark fangs! ”I’ve paid my dues, I’ve suffered at the hands of the fuckers in Fight. I’ve taken my hits. I’ve dealt some terrible blows. I’ve ended careers, Annie. What have you done? Bathed more than once a year? Took a shit in a proper toilet? No one will hold your hand here, Annie… Or your head. No one’s going to go easy on you, me the very least. I will bend you. I will tear your stitches from your neck. I will make you wish you had just rolled over in your fucking grave. These aren’t threats, kitten, they’re promises. You think you had a hard life? Married. Sentenced to live in a tower. Tried for treason. Then beheaded. Aww, boohoo. Try clawing through life to scratch and bite for survival. Beaten. Raped. Cursed. Spat at. Shot. Stabbed. Guess what? I’m still fucking standing. And in that ring, that is My territory. It belongs to me.” She growled, the white light came closer, dancing around Dru, like a firefly from hell. She held her hand out to it, and it fluttered around it before landing in the palm. She admired the pretty light before she winked to the camera. She flung the light into the air and as it came down, it resembled the visage of Anne Boleyn herself. Dru grabbed the corpse-like figure by the neck and cackled as the head rolled away. Oh dear, what would she do?

”See this Anne?” She held the decayed looking thing up to the camera. ”Learn from this headless twat.” She flung the mannequin into the grave, picked up the head and sighed softly. ”Anne, it’s been a real treat, trust me when I say no one will ever forget this encounter… You smell terrible, doll. Hundreds of years of corpse rot and mildew aren’t a becoming fragrance… But, if you choose to step into the ring with me, Saturday night… You may very well, lose your fucking head… Again.” She pitched the skull into the grave and laughed as the coven poured the contents of the cauldron over the body. The resulting sizzle was insanely loud, but the howling laughter from Dru and her Wolves overshadowed it soon.

”I’ll seal you in your fucking grave, kitten. You may have sat at court with other royals, but you’ve never fought the Voodoo Queen. Never faced a witch. You’ve no fucking chance in hell to walk out of this show unless I let you. You will beg for mercy.”

As the coven filled in the grave, Dru walked a little closer to the camera. She grabbed it, pulling it nearer. ”See you Saturday, Anne. Make sure your head is screwed on nice and tight. Sometimes, dead is better.” Lips pressed to the lens and soon, the end slate rolled;



For tickets, call….”