Writings

Author: Amy Snelgrove
Title: untitled
Type of Work: story
Source: CMv1 #76

He grabbed me by the arm and took me into the room, pushed me to the floor covered in hay. I feel the hay between my fingers and brushing against the inner most part of my upper thighs. My head held down, I see my torn dress on me and my arms down trying to cover my legs with my dress and I see this black leather covered hand reach under my chin. Slowley it lifts my head up so that my eyes meet his thru my tangled hair. His eyes glared into mine with their light blue rays beaming into mine like some kind of method of trans that he was pulling me into. I tried to pull back but he grabbed the back of my neck too fast, faster than what I could see in my weekend condition. After days of no food just water to keep me from becoming dehydrated I could not hold him back for he is soo much stronger than I. His eyes still penetrating mine as if they were two hot pokers gauging my eyes out, I could not blink. I felt my eyes drying out and a strong burning sensation came over them, I could feel them turn red.I see his blurred face behind the locks of black curls that hang down. I try to scream for help, but when I do I feel the breath taken from me as he holds his hand to my chest. I can feel the sweat beading up on my forehead and my palms are slipping from my grip on his arm. I begin to weaken. Everything is becoming black, I see less and less and everthing is blurred. There is a tingling sensation in my whole body as I feel faint, I try to look at him but I see black then nothing at all.

I awaken to find myself in the same room, floor covered in hay and a pile of it against the wall covered with a blanket. "How did I get here?" I think to myself. I hollar in agonizing pain as I look up when a sharp pain shoots up and down my body starting from my neck.

I quickly reach to touch the sore part of my neck and find that I have been injured in some way.

I dont remember how. I try to get up but my body feels tattered and week.

I notice the walls are a hazy shade of grey stacked stone with lit torches on each side of an open door. "The door is open" To my amazement and with that I rekindle the little bit of strength that was left in me to barely get up and slowly move towards the door. As I limp closer I find that there are two figures just outside the door standing against the wall on each side. They are in black armour with hands folded over the hilt of their swords propped up off the floor by the tips of their blades. Their sole attention is put forward as they stand in their military stance for which they are trained to do when they become guards.

I notice the detail in the armour over the shoulders and I see an engraving of a Dragon on each of them. I begin to feel my legs go from under me, as I struggle to stay standing. I feel my knees buckle under me and I loose my balance falling to the floor. I luckily catch my self with my hand against the dusty floor.

How long am I to stay here, and for what reason?? I think to myself.

Who was that man, is he a king or a prince?

What would someone of his stature possibley want of a commoner like myself?

Obviously it is imprisonment, but is he to torture me or worse...kill me?

Why is the door kept open?

I hear footsteps coming up the corridor. As the footsteps get louder and closer so do each beat of my heart. The footsteps stop. There is silence. I look up and see nothing outside the door but the two guards and the stairway across the way. Then is when I notice the huge tapestry hanging along the wall just above the stairs. The same dragon this is engrave in the guards armour has come to life in brilliant shades of gold and red floating on a sea of black.

For a moment I get lost in the intrecate beauty and detail of the dragon.

The elaborate detail in the the soft curves and sharp edges of the dragons body.

The tail goes upward to the left and the body faces forward to the right with its stomach sticking out. As though it was in the stance to from the letter D. The gold stitch work sparkled in the candlelight. With that against the shadowy texture of the red and black velvet canvas it looked almost real and alive. Looking as though it was alive, it seemed to have been watching me, my every move. Eyes blinking in the flickering light, eminating from the several candlelabras along the stone walls. Walls like those that I am forced to stay surrounded by in this wretched room. But I yet at the same time I seem to be free to come and go as I please with the exception of the guards. Though there is still that unexplainable fear which I have acquired after my first encounter with him. The same fear I felt in those eyes which peirced my sould last night. Which at the same time filled it with hope. A pathway of some sort away from sorrow and death.

There is a swift brush of air pushing my hair back. That blows dust in my face, forcing me to close my eyes for a second. When I open my eyes and wipe my face I see a tall dark figure standing in front of me. The air in my lungs is taken as I loose my breathe with the fear I feel from his sudden appearance so close in front of me.

I didnt even hear him coming.

His feet are by my knees. I strain to look up to see his face but my vision is slightly blurred for a second from wiping my eyes. I can see the outline of hair bordering the pale face. I squint my eyes and I can see his features a little clearer. I loosen my eyes up and am able to see clear again. The black that borders his face is thick locks of dark brown almost black curls hanging down just past his shoulders. He has a strong face, long with very distinguished features. He has a straight mustache, linked to a finely trimmed goatee bordering his mouth. Afraid to look into those eyes again I suddenly bow my head in fear. I see his hand go under my face and under my chin. He lifts my head up gently, and as he is doing this all I could think about...

Is he going to grab me again and make me black out? That same fear engulfs my body once again as grabs my arm. I shut my eyes. This time he is gentle and suprisingly conforting. The fear subsides when he lifts and holds me close like a mom holding her
newborn baby.