The air carried a bloody tint, lit by pitchforks and torches hoisted into the air by the jeering town. Granny Frankie sneered, bleached hair whipping the air with the same ferocity as the creature's whip. These Dullahan were even more morally revolting than she initially thought. The abomination was young, tears streaming from his abnormally crimson eyes, pleading for mercy. The executioner notched their arrow, and Frankenstein watched on in delight as the headless creature realised, with a wave of hopelessness, that no one was coming to his rescue. Frankie allowed herself a smirk, knowing she had caused the lynching of one of these monsters. Her anticipation-ridden countenance glowed in the hellish light. A high-pitched whistling sounded, then a sickeningly damp thud, as his spark of life was doused. The body crumpled and his head, which was previously grasped so tightly to his chest, tumbled out of his grasp and rolled across the pavement. Frankenstein looked down, meeting the eyeless gaze with a morbid sense of pride and satisfaction. She bent down and held it in the air, soft tufts of hair tickling her knuckles.

"Good riddance to these abominations!" She bellowed, barely audible over the cheering of the crowd.

***

Earlier that week, the old woman was seething with animosity, longing for nothing more than to leave the confines of her musty town and wreak vengeance. She knew she was in no condition to leave though, let alone dispose of one of the Dullahan. She felt her teeth grind together just at the thought of one of those creatures; the crime against nature that her friend had told her, killed her husband Elijah. She wouldn't have let her condition stop her, but her son Adam, was adamant that she take care of herself. Her callous, frosty eyes set ablaze as an idea began to stitch itself together. The cool wooden boards protested under her weight, soon replaced with the indifferent click of stone, as she made her way to the centre of the town, ready to spread some horrifying rumours about the headless horse riders.

She returned home later that evening, satisfied with her unethical day's work. The door clicked shut behind her, as she smirked, unable to recall half the nonsense she had sprouted at anyone who gave her their ear. The specific of her words didn't matter in the end, all that did was the damage in the content. Their name already stunk from one end of this musty town to the other. She stomped towards her bedroom, gratified with the attack on her husband's killers.

***

A furious neigh hollered over the farrago of shouts, breaking Frankenstein out of her scornful reminisce. She jolted, head snapping around in panic as hoofbeats lurched into her ears. The demon riding atop the horse seemed to be made almost entirely of emerald flames, licking at the sides of his steed. The heat was so intense, as would be the wrath of the rider, that she could feel the heat scorch her skin, even from where she was standing. With a pang of horror, she realised this was her victim's companion. She hurriedly lowered the head and attempted to become as inconspicuous as possible. She stared in terror as his midnight steed halted beside his friend's corpse. Frankenstein waited with bated breath as he studied the arrow protruding from the other's back. He lashed around, facing the crowd, features tight with fury.

"Can you see what you've done!?" He shrieked, the villagers' torches fluctuating with the cracks in his voice. A few sharp gasps filled the air as torches were dropped, and a dozen of the villagers nursed singed fingers. "ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?! NOW THAT YOU'VE STOLEN AN INNOCENT AWAY FROM THEIR FAMILY AND FUTURE!?" A thick blanket of dread uneasily settled over her. "We have left you alone for 100 years, letting you live your lives in peace, and how do you repay us!? By capturing my best friend and murdering him!" Confused and fearful murmurs spread through the audience like a disease. Frankenstein felt sick to her stomach. 'They had left us alone for 100 years? She had killed a young boy -one the same age as her own son-, for no reason. Her husband wasn't murdered?!' Her hand leapt to cover her mouth, but a metallic taste settled on her tongue and stabbed its way up her nose. Frankenstein gagged in horror, unable to look away from the crimson tainting her skin. A suffocating appal hung thick over the gathering, permeating the edges thought.

The fiery man seemed to think he had deemed the gathering enough time to process this, and announced, voice cracking, "WHO IS RES- WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS!?" Everyone in the crowd began muttering, barrels of judgemental sideways glances shot at her. These small indications seemed to be enough for the sprite of spite, as his kelpie began thundering towards her. Frankenstein warbled backwards unsteadily and spun on her heel, ready to make an escape.

Then she felt an all to familiar, sickly clench and churn in her gut, an acidic sting in her gullet, and knew she would be subjected to the throes of illness, left at the mercy of a vengeful spirit. She felt the dread welling up inside her or perhaps it was vomit, either way, she knew it wasn't likely she would make it out of this alive. She knew what his rage felt like, and she knew what it had driven her to do and what it had caused. Her knees gave out, sending throbs of agony pulsing in her thighs. She keeled over, retching blood. She wasn't aware of the crowd backing away, or the cease of hooves over the pounding in her ears. Gasping for air, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth, she glanced up and saw the jade man gazing down on her with what could only be a pitiful sneer.

"Do it then," she spat, flecks of gore spraying from her mouth. "Kill me. Exact your revenge." The man didn't move, eyes moving up and down her, housing barely constrained but not hidden contempt. "Hurry up!" Her voice was shrill.

"No," the creature stated. "No, I won't. You may be an awful excuse of a person, but you still have a family, and I'm not going to take you from them." He crouched, inches from her face. His voice warped, eerily layering over itself and stinking of time. "You don't deserve the mercy of death. Let your illness be your blight until you shuffle off this mortal coil, ready for me to collect your soul and ease you into a restless slumber. Let your dwindling conscience be an endless barrage of guilt, making you wallow what you have done, and the lies you have spread through this village like a plague." He rose to his feet, eyes glowing, the incantated purple prose nearly tangible in the air, drifting off his tongue like smoke. "I, a being of sin and debauchery, am more human than you." With those parting words, he mounted his steed and departed. Frankenstein didn't look away, even when his glow had long since been swallowed by the horizon and the sun began to rise, his words still ringing in her ears.

The Moral: Don't gossip, it will only end in tears and tragedy. This is shown in how the world's angriest grandma hears a piece of gossip that drives her to enact revenge for an event that never happened, and employs gossiping as her tool of disaster. She later learns that none of what she had been told was true, and she had taken an innocent life. She receives her punishment for her deceit and heinous actions in the form of a curse and a promise, a curse of guilt and suffering, and a promise of a disturbed death. Rumours create all the problems in this short story.

The Dullahan AU is the property of jeks-tgs on Tumblr. I just changed it up a bit and completely destroyed the timeline and lore for another course project. Sorry. One day, I might give this fandom something besides an angsty AU I did for a project. That day is not today.