The Reaping

The Reaping Chapter Five

"Please, no more. Please." Tears streamed down my cheeks.

It didn't shriek or drag me out. When my terror subsided, I opened my eyes and noticed the mist hovering near the stairs. Its ghoulish arms lay at its sides. It had taken on more of a human form, one that was less of the fog I had come to recognize.

It glanced up and held out one of its limbs again. I shook my head for it to stay away. My wish wasn't granted. It came in closer and moved down to my level. We stared at one another in silence.

The three words I had been longing to say came from my mouth. "Let me go."

The mist's head wavered from side to side. Its response didn't come as a surprise. "No. You will stay."

More tears fell. The last time I cried this much was when my mother died. Again, only the longing for someone, anyone, to save me mattered. My hand shook as I pushed my tangled hair away from my face. The mist left my view and returned with a glass filled with the same red liquid.

It set the glass in front of me on the floor. "Drink."

I peeked at the flowing water, wanting to drink from there instead. But that would mean coming out from under the table. My gaze switched between the glass and the mist. I shuddered to think of its anger if I refused. I grabbed the glass with both hands and took deep gulps of the sweetened wine until it was empty. The mist continued to float nearby. If it was pleased, I couldn't tell.

I tucked my knees to my chest and waited for its next move. The music continued to play a loud melody in the cavernous room.

My ears began to ring, and my eyelids lowered on their own from my sudden drowsiness. "Wha...at did you...give m...ee?" My mouth—numb—barely moved to speak. The mist slid in closer while I landed on my side and lay motionless. The transparent green fog covered my face, a slight burst of air brushed my cheek, and then nothing more.

******

The sound of rushing water filled my ears when I regained consciousness. The bedroom spun as I sat up and moved to sit near the edge of the bed. The cramping in my leg wasn't as extreme as before, replaced by a pain in my lower belly. I should have been frightened, but I wasn't. I felt dazed, as if in some warped dream. I stumbled in the surprisingly clean privy. After relieving myself and entering the bedroom, I noticed my vomit and homemade dress were gone.

Glancing over the edge of the landing, things were the same. The two doglike statues stared ahead, and water poured from the hole in the wall in the pool. The clock on the far wall ticked away, and the smaller claw pointed past the number one. Again, there was no way to know how much time had passed.

At least the mist didn't make an appearance, thank the Almighty.

I longed for a warm bath to soothe my aches. I made my way down the stairs to investigate.

The table was set again with plates piled with vegetables and breads. Also, more scribblings of eat me and drink me lay by the pitcher. When the disturbing need to quench my thirst struck again, I knelt by the edge of the pool, cupped the water in my hands, and took deep sips of the refreshing liquid.

Would I ever be rescued?

I shook my head, refusing even to speculate how much longer I would be contained in this place with such an evil creature, a vile fake that acted human but killed without warning and wanted me to do some very odd things.

A bar of soap and a few towels lay on the floor. I picked up the soap and held it to my nose. It smelled faintly of roses and had a pleasing pink color. The need to bathe was something I could no longer ignore, but I didn't want to be caught unaware by my captor in the middle of washing. I settled for brushing out the tangles and snarls from my hair and searched for something to wear among those strange, beautiful clothes hanging in the bedroom. A light-colored frock, close in color to the bar of soap, captured my interest.