Like The Goose With The Golden Eggs

By: Bay, 8^th Grade

Reginald Gresham was dead. He died at the age of 62 from liver disease, mostly the fault of his long drinking history. He was a very wealthy man, and his estate had come to life after a burst of luck from a horse bet. The winnings had been invested into various stocks, which he had mysteriously had an unusual amount of good fortune with, probably because he had placed a mole within the stock market and was paying him heftily.

He had been married at one point, to a pleasant woman named Judith Farmer, and the couple had been granted a single child, a daughter named Rosalyn. However, Judith died in a plane wreck when Rosalyn was barely a year old, and Reginald had remarried. Veruca Masterson was truly a vile and greedy woman, her only real talents being deception and thievery. She kept on a constant mask of kindness in front of her very rich husband, whose money she craved like a smoker needing nicotine.

Growing up, Rosalyn and Veruca had a strong rivalry. Rosalyn despised Veruca due to her mentally abusive nature, and Veruca disapproved of Rosalyn because she felt her dream to be a dancer was foolish. “Who needs a job when you had such a large inheritance?” the woman would snap. 

Reginald and Veruca had been married a total of 28 years, just one year more than Rosalyn’s age when her father died. But, now, that marriage was ended, to Veruca’s immense delight. Now she could write Rosalyn out of her will and keep her husband’s fortune to herself.

But there was another will Veruca was looking more forward to, and that was her deceased husband’s. Reginald had owned a very expensive necklace, almost priceless in its value, and Veruca had had her eyes on it from day one. Reginald had originally been planning to give it to his daughter, but Veruca had used her practically hypnotic schemes to make him write in the will that the necklace would become hers. Veruca so craved this piece of jewelry so she could sell it and gain an even more unbelievable amount of wealth.

Rosalyn was in shock when the will was read. What madness had caused her dear father to give such a beautiful treasure to a witch like that? “No, that’s impossible!” She had cried, slamming her hands onto the lawyer’s large wooden desk. Violently pointing a finger at the smirking Veruca, she barked, “When did my father ever decide to give everything away to her?!”

Her step-mother stood and placed a gloved hand on Rosalyn’s shoulder. “Calm yourself, child. There are things you don’t see that go on between a husband and wife that are as close as we were.” Rosalyn shuddered, and jerked herself away from the woman she had hated her whole life.

“You tricked him, didn’t you? Didn’t you?!” She shouted, and was about to lunge for Veruca’s throat (she was known for having a very short and violent temper, socially amplified by her red hair) before the lawyer stepped between them and cried, “Now, now! Settle down! What’s done is done, and we must follow whatever Mr. Gresham has written down in his will. The executrix will be here shortly, so if you can contain yourselves until then, all the better for you.” With an indignant sniff, he walked out of the room, presumably to go and get the executrix. The two women glared at each other, a malicious grin painted upon Veruca’s blood-red lips.

“I bet you wish you could get your greasy little hands on dear Reginald’s estate. Especially this necklace…” She hissed. Rosalyn’s grip on the arms of her chair tightened like a vice. It was all she could do to not claw at her step mother’s neck.

“However, I have very special plans for this priceless piece of jewelry… I’m going to hide it somewhere you won’t be able to get it.” Veruca said, holding the chain up to the light streaming through the window. The sun glinted off of its gold links, casting an eerie shadow upon the dim and musty contents of the office. Rosalyn gave a snarl under her breath. How dare she? How dare this piece of trash flaunt her vileness in front of her own step-daughter?

“What do you mean, you witch?!” The girl snapped, feeling her anger bubbling to the surface again. Veruca gave another one of her sickly sweet smiles.

“I’ll show you, child.” She said, and lifted the necklace above her head. Then, her crimson lips opened and she lowered the chain into her mouth. Rosalyn gave a disgusted gasp, too shocked to move as she watched the necklace disappearing into Veruca’s throat. As she swallowed the pendant, the older woman made small gagging noises, making Rosalyn’s stomach churn. And then, the last glittering link fell into her mouth, and Veruca gave a satisfied sigh. She had swallowed the necklace.

Rosalyn’s nails were digging into the wood of chair, and her eyes were wide. Did she really witness what she thought she had? Had Veruca really just swallowed such a priceless item?!

“You… you…” The redhead stammered, her mouth hanging open like a fish. Veruca simply continued to smile sweetly at her, her eyes glittering with malice. Rosalyn’s brain raced to form coherent words, but just as she was about to speak, the door opened.

The executrix strode in, followed by the lawyer, and Rosalyn closed her mouth, her lips pressed into a tight line. Holding her tongue as the executrix granted all of Reginald’s estate to Veruca, her gaze never drifting from her sickening step-mother; Rosalyn began to form the very beginnings of a plan in her mind.

That night was difficult on Rosalyn. She spent hours pacing in her bedroom, thinking about what she could do to get the necklace back. She could only guess that Veruca was going to induce vomiting to get it back soon enough, so she had to act fast before the necklace was being sold at an auction.

Sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of strong coffee clutched tightly in her fingers, Rosalyn’s weary gaze traced over the kitchen, her brain racing as she continued trying to formulate a plan. And then, her vision happened upon the knife drawer.

A malicious grin, not unlike one commonly seen painted upon her step-mother’s lips, creeped its way across Rosalyn’s face. Stepping over to the drawer, she opened it, and began searching for the biggest knife she owned. Pulling it out, she held it up to the fluorescents, the light glinting weakly off of its stained, 9-inch blade.

Within the next 15 minutes, she was standing in front of the Gresham Mansion, the knife gripped tightly in her sweaty palm. Using the key she knew was still hidden behind the 3^rd topiary on the right next to the door; she was soon in the front foyer.

Creeping up the stairs, Rosalyn listened intently for any signs of noise coming from the master bedroom. Sweat dribbled down her grimy neck – she hadn’t taken a shower that day. Her slippery, bare feet got little traction on the heavily waxed wood of the stairs, and her nightgown hung upon her like a greasy rag. Her heart beat crazily in her chest, like a hummingbird trapped in a cage. She knew what she was going to do was the worst thing anyone could ever do, but she didn’t care. She had to get that necklace. The greed drove her onwards.

The large, wooden door to what used to be her parent’s bedchamber opened silently, and Rosalyn stepped onto the thick carpeting. Light snores emanated from the center of the back wall, where the large, four-poster bed was, and also so was Veruca. Rosalyn tip-toed over to where her step-mother slept, being careful to tread as lightly as possible. She couldn’t risk her waking up.

Her eyes glinting in the weak moonlight, she gripped the knife with two hands and raised it above her head, mentally measuring the distance from the blade to her step-mother. Her skin looked pallid in the dim room, and beads of sweat were collecting on the back of her neck. She almost backed out, but stopped herself. “No…” She breathed. “I have to do this. For my father.”

Looking down upon Veruca’s sleeping face, Rosalyn swore she could still see the necklace disappearing down her throat. Her head pounded with rage as she remembered the afternoon’s events. How dare she… how DARE she?!

With an enraged cry, Rosalyn jabbed the knife into Veruca’s neck. The woman gave a strangled scream, her head jerking up from the pillow for a moment before falling back down, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. Rosalyn withdrew the knife, screaming, and then followed with another swift strike. Veruca began to choke, horrible gagging noises bursting from her throat as the essence of her life bled upon the bed sheets.

Twice more Rosalyn drove the knife into her step-mother’s neck, screaming bloody murder the entire time. Ignoring the retching emerging from Veruca’s literally blood-red lips, Rosalyn set to work at slicing open her torso, a frenzied snarling ripping out of her mouth. Her eyes were wide with rage, as she sifted through Veruca’s insides, searching frantically for the necklace.

At long last, Veruca was silent, blood oozing out onto the pillow, staining her pale skin. The young woman’s breath was coming out in frantic pants, sweat trickling down her bloodstained face as her nails tore at her step mother’s guts, constantly searching for even a trace of the precious necklace. Finally locating what she believed to be the stomach, she took the knife and slit it open, a grim smile etched upon her face. Finally, the necklace would be hers.

But… she found nothing. The knife clattered to the ground as Rosalyn’s eyes grew large with fear, the rage that they had formerly been misted over with disappearing. Now, she began to panic. Breathy screams tore out of her throat, and Rosalyn fell to the floor, watching the red water of Veruca’s organs ooze out onto the carpeting. “No, no, no…” She muttered, her fingers twisting around locks of her hair as her nails dug into her scalp. There was no excuse for this. The necklace wasn’t there… where could it be? A dark haze began to cloud over her brain. Her last conscious thought before she fell to the darkened carpet was ‘At least she won’t be going the same place as dad…’

Rosalyn had already been in the criminally insane ward of the mental hospital for a month when the package arrived. Not needing a straitjacket due to her relative stability, Rosalyn sat in her neatly padded room and stared at the ceiling. The endless hours of boredom had turned her mental facilities into sludge, and her only intelligible speech consisted of groans and mumbles. However, she was very calm. The general state of the hospital was soothing.

There was a click as the lock on the door opened, and one of the facility’s workers walked in with a brown box in her hands. Placing the box at Rosalyn’s feet, she left the room without a word. Snatching the box from in front of her, Rosalyn tore at the cardboard, and was met with packing peanuts. Tossing these haphazardly around her, Rosalyn suddenly stiffened as she saw the contents of the box.

Staring up at her from the bottom of the box was the necklace. And tucked beneath the pendant was a note –

‘From your dearest step-mother Veruca. I’ll see you down below.’

And, suddenly, Rosalyn’s air was cut off as the necklace rose from the ground and wrapped itself around her neck, feeling as though two hands were strangling her instead of a gold chain. She clawed at her neck as the necklace dragged her up from her sitting position and held her against the wall. It felt as though nails were being driven into her skin, and beads of crimson appeared on her neck and dribbled onto her hospital gown. The woman’s skin began to turn purple as her supply of air got smaller and smaller, and at this point, a high, reedy voice pierced the sounds of choking that emanated around the room.

“Thought you could get it back, huh, Rosalyn?! That will was part of the law, and it’s still binding after death. The necklace will be mine, forever!” Veruca cried as Rosalyn crumpled to the floor.

The next morning, Rosalyn’s room was empty, except for a few drops of blood on the far wall. And, far away, a woman named Veruca Gresham was auctioning off a gold necklace.