Short stories with a with a twist.
    Romance with a
touch of class.  

  1. Managing Director
  2. Managing Director
  3. Managing Director
  4. Managing Director
  5. Managing Director
  6. Managing Director
  7. Managing Director
  8. Managing Director

Welcome

Kathryn Daugherty
Author of Sweet Romance

 
       Welcome to my web site. I hope to bring you information on upcoming books
and short stories.

       My journey as a novelist, has been more amazing than I could have imagined!
I thank you the readers for the excitement this adventure has produced. Stay
tuned for more works that are in process. I hope you will take time to explore
the rest of the website.
.
My first story for the website is a  Grim Romance for the Halloween season

A Grim Halloween Romance Story 
                      By
          Kathryn Daugherty  

     Woof, Woof, clump, clump, clump, creek, creek, creek, creek, perhaps an oink, moo, or baa, then sluice…. thud, the day had begun. Every morning the king woke to the very same sounds. They made him smile. The dog was barking at the female executioner, as she walked across the courtyard to her post.
The sluice… thud from the test of the blade. The test dummy usually being whatever the king would require for his evening meal. A calf, a hog, or maybe even a goat.
The sharper the blade, the less painful the execution. The executioner took great pride in sharping her blade. Making it right to kill hundreds and on an exceptional day possibly even thousands if the prisoners cooperated.
     Sluice…thud, sluice…thud. The guillotine would work from the surge of first light to the fading of the daytime glow. Mattered, not the time of the year, the deaths came day after day, season to season. Spring mornings, to wintry dusk. Sluice … thud, sluice… thud.
     The sluice…thud, amplified from the killing room. From the cells, you heard the death of every male prisoner scheduled to meet their maker, if it wasn’t your day to die. The victims ranged in age from young boys to the elderly gentlemen. You might be a young 26-year old male or an infirmed man who walked with a cane
or walker. Your physical condition or station in life made no difference. If you were male, your head would roll. Sluice…thud, sluice…thud.
      Every male person in the kingdom on the moor had a price on their head for a crime they may or not had committed. The king manufactured crimes if you had not committed a real offense. Whatever it took to condemn you to the gallows if you were male. The king was the judge and jury. His troops of Amazon
women carried out his commands. Many a sniper tried to kill the king, when they were caught, they went to the head of the line to their execution. No questions asked.
The king’s women caught the convicts and escorted them to their death. Sluice…thud, sluice…thud.
     Some of the hostages went to their death with head held high, others passed out when they reached the room of implementation when they saw and not just heard the blade do its deed. Several screamed and cried. Many bent their heads in prayer. Each man held a different position to his death.
     If the king was not watching the Amazon women practicing their jousting, or the court jester making him laugh. He might hover above the room of death like a winged dragon, watching in rapt anticipation of the last man’s death. Sluice…thud, sluice…thud.
     He believed he had noble reason to order the deaths of these men and boys. After all, the Amazon woman of his dreams had said. “The only way I’d ever marry you is… if you were the last man on earth.”
Sluice…thud.