“The Bride of Usher” a Halloween Serialized Story by Nat Weaver, Parts VII and Epilogue
Sorry I missed last week, but I did write a brief explanation that is all sorts of wonky in the brain. In case you are still playing catch up, or maybe you haven’t even started, here are the previous pieces of the puzzle:
And without further ado, I give you the conclusion of this year’s Halloween Special!
Rated R: This story will contain violence, gross men, some non-consensual touching, the objectification of women (not glorified), and plenty of feminine rage.
Download “The Bride of Usher” as an ebook.
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Copyright © 2025 by Nat Weaver.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted by Artificial Intelligence (AI) or used in the training of AI, for either commercial or non-commercial purposes. For permission requests, write to the author, with subject “The Bride of Usher” at the following email address: nat@weaver.wtf.
“The Bride of Usher”
A Short Story by Nat Weaver
VII.
The Brides
Usher’s playlist in the ballroom screeched and came to a halt. The wedding patrons looked over at DJ Mina who shrugged as she frantically tried to understand what was happening to her equipment again. The lights came up across the entire ballroom and the stage lit up as Mary stepped through the curtains. She walked up to the microphone. Her clothes and body were drenched even more with blood during the second reemergence.
“Ladies,” she started, “My fellow brides. May I present to you my husband.” She pulled her left hand out from behind her back. She was gripping tightly to Usher’s long hair, bloodied threads of it interwoven between her fingers. Blood poured out of the neck where she had cut it off with his machete. She held his head out in front of her for all to see. “There is no bone of contention concerning the fidelity or integrity of the men in attendance of my wedding. Like Usher, these wealthy men have too much power and arrogance. They have stamped you underfoot for the last time. We are women. We are strength and power. Without us, these men are nothing. They cease to exist. So tonight, my gift to you is to provide you with the means and opportunity to take back your power. Remind them that without you, they cease to exist, by ending their reign.” She tossed Usher’s head across the stage, and it slid to the edge in a smear of blood.
Mrs. Grey stood up at her table and raised her glass, “RESIST!”
***
Mrs. Lindell, a young bride with blonde hair who had regretted every day of her marriage to the silver-haired Mr. Lindell, turned to glare at him. His eyes widened when he saw she was considering it. She thought about all the affairs. All the pain of sitting at home while she knew he was out with his business partners cheating on her. She thought of the hate he spewed at her when they learned she couldn’t conceive a child. She thought of his face and the rage he would get over anything and everything, and how it was always her fault. She thought of all the pain. She knew he was eventually going to divorce her and leave her with nothing but a broken heart. She also knew he was biding his time because he loved hurting her. He loved watching her suffer. But she knew eventually, he would start thinking of his future heir again, and would divorce her so he could find a more fertile bride. The only flaw Mrs. Lindell had was that of having a loving heart.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he growled at her.
“I’ll look at you how I damn well please.” She turned to the table next to them and grabbed a fork. It was large and golden with a diamond handle.
She turned back to him with a look of determination, but he was laughing at her.
“What the hell do you plan to do with that?” These were the last coherent words that came out of Mr. Lindell’s mouth before having both of his eyes plucked out with a fork.
***
Mrs. Lovelace watched as Mrs. Lindell straddled her husband and carved out his eyes. She looked about and saw that the men watched in horror, but the women were looking around for weapons, staring at their husbands, or otherwise admiring Mrs. Lindell’s handiwork. Mrs. Lovelace had been married to Mr. Lovelace for thirteen years. It was a loveless marriage of manipulation and control. On their wedding night, he had handed her a list of her friends’ names and explained that these were the people she had to cut out of her life. She tried to argue with him, but eventually realized he was worth too much to fight. He knew all the right people, had all the right business contracts, and put into public office all of his buddies — including judges that would oversee their divorce. She was trapped. And so, she cut off her friends from the list. Over time his list grew longer and her contact with others dwindled. Even at an event like Usher’s wedding, she had to concede to certain rules. She couldn’t talk to men. She could talk to women but for only a few minutes at a time and multiple conversations with the same woman were strictly forbidden. Sometimes she felt like she wasn’t sure how to hold a conversation anymore. She became a masterclass at lying about needing to be elsewhere to end a conversation.
“We’re getting out of here.” Mr. Lovelace said to her. “This is too much for my blood.”
He grabbed her wrist and started to pull her away with him, but she reached out in desperation and grabbed her plate from the table. The last remnants of food on it slid right off to the floor, a few steak tips and mashed potatoes. With a single swinging motion she crashed the plate upside his head and it shattered in multiple places. His hand released its grip involuntarily and he stumbled, though he caught himself on a nearby table. She still held onto a fourth of the plate in her hand. She stood behind him as he attempted to pick himself up with the table, a stream of blood running down his cheek from his eyebrow. She wrapped her left arm around his shoulder, and held him down while she took the jagged edge of the plate and slit his throat. His blood spewed across the table cloth as she released him and he fell to the floor.
Free at last from Mr. Lovelace, her first thoughts were of her friends and the reunion they would have. There would be so much joy, but also tears over time lost.
***
Madison, the redheaded waitress, watched the first two kills from Mrs. Lindell and Mrs. Lovelace with glee. She always hated those men. Mr. Lindell was always groping her backside as she walked by his table at events thrown by Usher. She had originally thought the job at Usher’s estate was the chance of a lifetime, because she had heard it paid well and the benefits were out of this world. The only thing out of this world was the depravity that took place within the House of Usher. Servants were locked in once they arrived to work by anklets that could electrocute you if you tried to escape. Many had tried, many had failed. The only hope was that you could slip up in such a way to get fired without violence. It was rare to be actually fired from the House of Usher, as many servants just disappeared without a trace. There were rumors that Usher hunted them for sport in the Alberta Mountain forests, which he had purchased some twenty years prior. And so, you stayed working hard, hoping that one day someone would pick on you for something, and in a moment of laziness, you’d get fired the old fashioned way.
The men began to panic after Mr. Lovelace collapsed spewing blood from his neck. A wall of men ran for the main entrance, but Becky had sealed off the large golden doors and locked them. There was no way to penetrate the godawful doors. The men turned and started heading for the kitchen doors. A group of women pursued them with various weapons in hand. One woman smashed a chair over her husband’s head and while he was on the floor, she took the broken leg and beat him repeatedly until his face looked like lasagna.
Madison knew this was the moment Becky had told them about and she quickly punched a four-digit pin into a tablet mounted on the wall next to the doors. She heard the doors lock as she had hundreds of times before while shutting down the ballroom for the night, but this was the first time it gave her great satisfaction.
The men slammed into the doors to the kitchen and began pounding and pushing up against them. The doors pulsated from the force, but appeared they would hold their own against the men. The cooks and dishwashers slowly moved to the front of the kitchen to watch through the windows with the waitresses. It was the only satisfaction any of them had experienced inside the House of Usher.
Pedro, a dishwasher who Madison knew, took off his apron, folded it, and laid it across a table. He took his shirt off and handed it to Madison. “Here.”
She smiled and teared up at the gesture. She slipped the overly large, sweaty, and itchy polo shirt over her head. It flowed over her mini skirt. “Thanks, Pedro.”
The other men walked over to the table and eventually there were three large piles of folded aprons and all of the waitresses were covered, while the men stood behind them topless watching the rich, white men scream and cuss. One-by-one, a man would get pulled away from the door by one or more women, and eventually he’d be out of sight on the floor somewhere.
Madison turned to Pedro after what seemed like an eternity of violence. “Do you think you could start a grease fire? I kinda wanna burn this place down.”
***
DJ Mina was in shock during the killings of Mrs. Lindell and Mrs. Lovelace, but as she realized they were all locked in and it wasn’t going to end until all the men were dead, she pulled up an old playlist of hers that she’d never played inside the House of Usher. The name of the playlist was Women’s Rights and Wrongs 🖤. She hit shuffle and the first song to play was by Madonna who Usher had strictly forbidden ever be played through his ballroom speakers. She pressed a button which set all of the lighting in the ballroom to follow the rhythm of the music. She quickly made a few adjustments to the color scheme. Pinks, purples, blues, and greens all pulsing and flashing about the ballroom. She turned off the main lighting.
Mary made eye contact with her and nodded. She nodded back with a smile.
***
Becky and Mary sat on the edge of the stage and watched as the men’s numbers slowly dwindled, their feet swaying and kicking to the beat of a song by Lil’ Kim.
“They’ll need a leader.” Mary said. “I like Mrs. Grey, can you tell me about her?”
“She’s wise and very business savvy,” Becky started, “Though most would never know it because her husband wouldn’t let her work. She has a business degree and ran her own business for years that was very successful. When she married Mr. Grey, he forced her to take an early retirement to start a family, but never would let her get back into the business world even after the kids had moved out.”
They sat in silence as the women brutally tore apart the final victim, a bought and paid for congressman from Maine. After he died, the women looked around to make sure there wasn’t a straggler.
“Let’s do this.” Mary stood up and grabbed the microphone. “If everyone could come forward to the stage for a moment — and could someone let the kitchen staff know its okay to come out. They’re part of this too.” Mary waited while everyone crowded the dance floor and the servants stood at the back of the rich women. She motioned to them to come forward among the women. “You don’t have to stand in the back. Come forward.” She looked directly at Mrs. Grey, “Could you come up here, please?” Mrs. Grey took the few steps up onto the stage and stood next to her and Becky. “You’re all going to need to come together now as a unit. You rule the world now. It’s yours. Mrs. Grey is wise and is a good businesswoman, she can help you get started in taking over your husbands’ businesses and interests.” She turned to Mrs. Grey. “I don’t mean to volunteer you for this task, but would you please help these women get started?”
A little tear escaped Mrs. Grey eye, and she wiped it away. She hadn’t been trusted with anything in so long, especially business matters. “Yes, I can do that. If they’ll have me.” The crowd hollered their agreement. Mary motioned for Mrs. Grey to take the microphone. “Thank you for the vote of confidence. Perhaps the hardest transition is going to be for the kitchen staff. They don’t have anything, we need to make sure they can slide into something. We also need a good story as to what happened here tonight and we need to stick to it.”
Madison raised her hand and Mrs. Grey called on her. “Pedro is preparing to start a massive grease fire. We figured we could burn the whole thing down and use that to help cover up what happened tonight.”
“That’s perfect.” Mrs. Grey said. “If you need anything from us to get the fire going and spreading, just ask. We’re all on the same team.” She turned to Mary who had a huge grin. “Mary, you have lost the most of us and still haven’t gotten any of it back. You need to get back to Percy.” Mary shrugged, she wasn’t sure that was an option. “I heard Usher and my husband talking about the time travel device, maybe we could send you back somehow.”
DJ Mina grabbed a microphone from her booth. “It’s here. My DJ booth is the time machine. Whenever he traveled, I was the one controlling it. I can take Mary home.”
“That’s perfect.” Mrs. Grey said. “What about you Becky? What do you need?”
“I should probably be decommissioned.” Becky said. “I’m too dangerous if I keep advancing and learning.”
Everyone was upset and started murmuring.
“I understand you,” Mrs. Grey spoke up after a moment’s thought, “But I refuse to shut you off just like that after everything you did for us tonight. You are one of us.” She thought for a moment. “If you went back with Mary, you would be far removed from your servers and you would stop upgrading. Over time you would just slowly deteriorate and decommission naturally. This is how we humans do it. You could live out the rest of your days peacefully with Mary.”
“Yes, that would work.” Becky said. “But what could I do in the 1800s?”
“Do you like to read?” Mary asked.
“I don’t read, I analyze text.” Becky said.
“You have to try it.” Mary said.
DJ Mina chimed in. “If I go back in time and you start the fire here, I won’t be able to come back.”
“We could wait for your return,” Mrs. Grey said.
DJ Mina contemplated briefly and then slowly shook her head. “No,” she said. “It’s better if I stay back there. That way the time machine and its technology stays out of the hands of modern capitalists and oligarchs.”
“It sounds like we have a plan.” Mrs. Grey said. “Ladies, we thank you, and may you have safe travels. To the rest of us, let us burn the House of Usher down — long live the matriarchy!”
Epilogue
Percy was confused by the arrangement Mary had suggested with bringing in two women to live with them. He never quite fully understood it, but he came to accept it and enjoyed their company. Mary also informed Percy she had a great idea for a book she referred to as Usher.
DJ Mina dropped the DJ moniker and moved the time machine and DJ booth into the Shelley home. When she wasn’t composing music on their piano, she could be found laughing it up with Becky and Mary. Parties at the Shelley’s home were never the same, as Mina would introduce their friends to a world of music unlike any other as she reprised her role as DJ. She got a bad case of pneumonia in 1848 and died holding Mary’s hand. Her last words were simply, “I have no regrets.”
Becky changed her name to Rebecca and spent her days reading the books from the Shelley’s library. It took some time to learn not to analyze and categorize the text, but to just enjoy it. She could always be found in the library or outside in the garden with a book. She never bored of reading for pleasure. Her body slowly shut down in 1847 surrounded by her sisters, Mina and Mary.
Mary began writing Usher in earnest shortly after returning home to Percy. Becky and Mina proved invaluable during the process, often listening to her as she bounced her ideas off of them for feedback over tea in the garden. They encouraged her to keep going. She almost gave up on the book, but her sisters intervened and convinced her it was going to be unlike anything ever written, and that she was more than capable of writing it. Sometimes she would become distracted from writing Usher and just watch the two women out her window as they sat in the garden together. The three women had been through so much together and never gave up on one another. After Percy died in 1822, the pain was almost too much to bear, but they refused to leave her side. Many nights she would cry herself to sleep with the two of them holding her tight. As she was putting some finishing touches on the book, she found herself staring at the title. She didn’t like it. She hated Usher so much and he didn’t deserve to have his name on anything much less her life’s work. She got up and paced around her room saying names out loud to herself for hours until one leapt out at her. She said the name over and over and it sounded perfect to her ears. She grabbed a pen and dipped it in ink, and then quickly scribbled Victor Frankenstein in her notes. She looked at the fresh, black inked name and knew.
This is it. This is who I am. I am Mary Fucking Shelley, author of Frankenstein. And you will put some respect on my name.
After Mina passed in 1848, Mary lived happily with her son, Percy, and his wife Jane. On February 1, 1851, she left this world behind. Her doctor believed it was a brain tumor, but she and her sisters had known for years that her persistent headaches and paralysis from 1839 onward were related to the damage done by Usher shoving Becky’s AI into her brain. There was nothing her doctor could do for her, because the technology didn’t exist yet.
If you’re reading this in the 2040s, and you meet a young tech genius named Roderick Usher, do us all a favor, and kill his ass. And put some respect on her name…
Mary.
Fucking.
Shelley.
