_

58 2 0
                                    

The woman who took me in was a Hilda. My second mother just as my first pushed her expiry date. The thought made me tear up, but just slightly now.

Strange isn't it, my recovery?

At times I believe that my guardian angel is watching me and donates me a strange ease at times of gloom.

So the sadness is gone but the panic returns during the dead of the night, in my dreams, I am dying.

First week, I imagined being back on the cold stone floors, carpets did not hinder the frost that takes my toes and slowly everything. I watched the death of my Mother and my way of life.

Second week, I dreamt it was burning inside the pile of rags and left there, I felt the searing heat but I would not die. I saw the moon and sun roll in the sky painfully slowly, nights froze me into the Earth, winds picked at me.

Insects crawled over me and dug through the ashes that enveloped me, they brought out strange charred chunks of rock.

The child of one of the beetles was a curious thing. I watched his antennae twitch about my eyes tickling my eyelid.

I closed it to block his attacks, I laughed but no sound came.

When I opened it again I saw that he had jumped back and arched his back, spreading his wings in defence.

"Why do you run?" I hear only a soft groan from my mouth, I stared deep into his many eyes.

I saw myself. I screamed.

My charred head was the only thing left unburned, half of it was black as soot, the other half still possessed skin and a humongous red eye. My body was gone, glass grew on my neck like a green beard.

I started to cry the tears scared the child away, he flew away, all his legs trailed behind him.

The others followed him.

"Do not leave me please!" a more persistent groan shook me, I felt the pain as I tried to move.

I could no longer see, the tears blocked my vision, I was glad I could not see the pitiful state of my body.

"I will never leave you..." a voice like the flap of wings called out to me.

I screamed aloud, it sounded muffled and raspy, I coughed out blood but continued screaming.

I was dying!

No.. I was already dead. Why was I so scared?

It was that voice. I was terrified of it.

Even though it was the only thing that stayed with me. I hated it, I wanted it to disappear.

Why?

I woke up in the Lady's embrace which I accepted with full force. I cried into her rag garments, even though I knew not why she had come to my bedside from her own. I could not care for suspicions.

These were the softest cloth in the world and they beckoned.

It was the rain that had suddenly reappeared a saviour in a drought, easing my flaking heart.

She pulled away and dried my tears with her sleeve, her clothes smelt of the foods she had cooked.
I understood now why the Hearth was so valued as a Greek goddess.

I stayed in her arms until I fell asleep once again, when I woke I noticed that she was about silently but cheerily going about boring daily tasks, those I had seen my maids do in the morning.

It is strange how I made that connection for the maids in my service had gradually stopped smiling, gradually some stopped coming to the castle.
Why didn't I ever notice this before now?

IWhere stories live. Discover now