The Black Dahlia

I took inspiration from the real Black Dahlia murder, hope you enjoy and thanks for clicking!

The streets are quiet today. I wondered if the gentle rain would stop. Sipping from my bitter, almost undrinkable steaming coffee, I raised the newspaper. Headline after headline, same things as usual. The calming ambiance of my warm home was perturbed by a vociferous and annoying beeping, my doorbell. The little fluff ball I call a dog started barking as soon as he heard it:

-Stop it, boy! Sit.

Pushing the canine aside I opened my old creaky door revealing a sight I thought I’d never see in my entire life again. Her messy fair hair pulled into a bun and tucked under a black beret, an ironed knee-length black dress was her entire attire, her once icy and hostile eyes seemed…broken, the cheap makeup was running down her wet cheeks, staining them, she sniffed and hugged me tightly. What on Earth was my sister doing here?

My first instinct was to return the warm embrace but then again, she is the one who convinced my parents to throw me out the house when I needed them the most, what could this devil want…

-Hello, Elizabeth…she sobbed into my sleeve


She eventually pulled back, wiping her eyes with a napkin, ruining it completely. She inhaled deeply to calm down and took off her shoes, being the polite person I am, I, still slightly amazed by the sudden visit, invited my sister inside, offering her some coffee which she denied:

-I know you do not want me here-case an point I though- but I have a request…

-A request…? What could you want from me?

-Eliza…I-I know what your job is and I also know that you are really…REALLY good at what you’re doing so I-I would like to request that you…um

-Cover a case? I am retired Ruth. I do not take cases anymore, and what kind of case could you possibly find in such a demure town? A teen arson? A simple burglary?


I froze, as a cold shiver ran down my spine at the word…I haven’t covered such a case in 20 years, what does she expect? That I’ll suddenly be interested in her life and personal issues after she ruined my life?

-Who’s the victim? I asked sheepishly, I am such an idiot, why am I getting myself involved?

-Dahlia Short.

I swallowed harshly and the knot in my throat disappeared. I wanted to laugh at the irony of it all, how many times had I wished my mother died out vengeance? Too many, but it seems like my wish came true. My mother did indeed die.

-Are you sure she was killed? Why are you coming to me when there’s the police?

-You are the best in this God forbid town, the so called police are good for nothing. I know you hate me Lizzie and I know you loathe mom but please, for the good times, do it.

I…am an idiot, aren’t I? Letting her toy with me like that but it is what it is, I accepted. Days later she brought me papers and documents about the corpse, the death, the crime scene but regardless I had no evidence. No fingerprints, no hair or fiber samples, nothing.

Dahlia Short

Age: 65 Old hag….

Born: July 29th 1924

Deceased: 2nd August 1989

Additional information: The victim was found in the kitchen at 2:45 AM by Ruth Short, said daughter of victim who claims to have been asleep the whole time. The only window of the kitchen had been smashed in, glass shards were covering the floor and counters. The victim’s daughter called 911 at 2:50 AM, police were unable to find any fingerprints besides the victim’s and Ruth Short’s who lives in the house. Dahlia Short had been stabbed 32 times in the chest by a sharp unidentified object, no knives from the kitchen were touched, the shed had been examined but to no avail. The victim’s body had bruises and cuts in it, results of a fight, strangulation marks also appeared on the neck but the death was caused by a fatal stab. The criminal supposedly entered by smashing in the window, killing Dahlia Short and then leaving through the door. Goods that were missing: Dahlia’s pearl necklace and diamond earrings.


The pictures taken of the body look…tremendous, I’ve definitely seen worse but…this is my mother not a stranger. Even if I hate her, even if she’s the worst person I know, she still loved me once and…I loved her too. I sip from my coffee, scratching my dog’s ear while I ponder my next move, I probably should go and see the house myself, maybe these idiots have left clues, maybe…who am I kidding? I know there are clues there that they had missed, I just have to find them.

The next morning I woke up at the crack of dawn and headed over to my sister’s, it was a bright and sunny day which, to me, was unusual. The small farmhouse in the middle of nowhere appeared in my peripheral vision. The same old creaky steps, the same old-fashion blue curtains, the same annoying rooster, that home vibe I forgot a long time ago. The taxi stopped and I exited the car, rushing inside. I could see the ‘do not cross tape’ all over the house. Ruth was living with one of her friends while the investigation was still going on, I entered the house and noticed the bloody floor but oddly enough, no footsteps, only a broken window. Walking inside the kitchen I stepped on glass shards, some covered with blood, some not. I glanced around while putting on my gloves. It was so odd, the kitchen was spotless, besides the obvious window and blood. It looked like something out of a movie, something staged, it looked fake. Carefully I looked at the window, sticking my head out, shards. There were shards outside too. That was impossible since the criminal left through the door. The whole story seemed fishy, killing somebody just for a pair of earrings and a necklace, why would anybody do this? Also…the shards outside meant that somebody left through the window as well. Maybe they heard Ruth upstairs and decided to leave through the window? Nah, that doesn’t make sense. But the only person in the house was mom and Ruth. No. I refused to believe that my sister had…I needed a break.

My phone had been ringing all night. It was Ruth. I wasn’t mentally prepared for a chat with her until around 1 AM I got extremely tired of the phone and, instead of plugging it out, I grabbed it and answered.

-Lizzie! Please help! I am begging you, the killer is back! Please! I can’t be loud! Help please, the hiccups and sobs were enough to prove me wrong, please!

And with that the call ended, I replayed the scared sobs and shaky voice of my sister as I rushed over to the house. I was panicked and wasn’t thinking straight, I still wonder why I hadn’t called 911 before going there, big mistake. It was wet and cold, I opened the door, listening quietly for any sort of movement. Creak! The living room. I hid in the kitchen which was right next to the front door, I waited, arming myself with a kitchen knife, cursing my carelessness. Creak! This time louder and closer, my breath hitched.

-Creak…someone whispered

I gasped, there was this sharp pain in my left shoulder and fell on the floor. I was going to die, here, where my mother did, but then, the lights flicked on revealing the face of the murderer. I froze. But how? It was unthinkable, why…?

-Hello, sister…Ruth murmured in a low, tone, almost growling

-What the hell are you doing, I spat blood, you psychopath! You murderer! You…you..

-Say it. Say how much you hate me…

-Why…? I sobbed

-Why? Because, dear! I grew jealous of you.

-Jealous? YOU? Why the bloody hell would you get jealous? Our mother threw me out and I lived alone for over 30 years, I had no family ever since, what in the-

-Shut up! Mom sent you away so you were safe! Safe…

-Safe?! Safe from what?! Listen, Ruthie, I don’t care about the past…just please…please let the knife down and let me go, I…I can help you, I care-I…!

-Safe from me. I killed mother because she was a lying broad! Just like you are, you say you care but I know deep down you hate just as much as she did. She hated herself for sending you away. She hated me for having to. Hell! Do you know how many nights I cried myself to sleep? And do you know what’s funny?

My eyes widened as I saw a sadistic smile form on her face:

-She used to beg just like you.


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