Still in Death: Charlotte Dymonde

Charlotte Dymonde's apperance in death....

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1. Chapter 1

The heather wept that morning. Its coarse heart felt some compassion towards the young, fresh girl lying in the ditch. Her ruby locks lay spread-eagled around her. Her topaz eyes locked in time; full of hatred and shock. A rusting razor had written its red name all along her neck. A dress, the colour of sunshine on a Sunday afternoon, was wrapped around her bodice smeared with the crimson rain. A lime, gauze handkerchief hung loosely in her hand, tattered like her throat. It burned like a raging fire. So beautiful, so painful. Charlotte was dazzling even in a decaying existence. The moor was silent that day. All that was audible was the dripping of the scarlet wine and the caw of scavengers….

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