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 Posted: Thu Aug 20, 2009 2:52 pm
"S o m e t i m e s T h e D a r k n e s s I s U n b e a r a b l e, B u t A N e c e s s a r y E v i l." ✙✈ ✉ ✌ ✁ ✎ ✐ ❀ {♥} ✰ ❁ ❤ ❥ ❦❧ ➳ ➽ «« т н є η i g h t m a r e D i a r y
Penelope Bourbon has a famous name and nothing else. An ordinary apartment, a dieing fern, a runaway stray cat and a pile of unpaid bills. Taking the bus to a nine to five job she hates and loves in a wrapped up little package, atop, a shiney red bow. Maybe her smile is a little fake, and perhaps she really doesn't look interested in what you are talking about. Truth be told, you hit the nail right on the head. Penelope's life begins the instant she closes her eyes and enters a world she is familiar with but finds all too foreign in and of itself. Sleep brings out the worst in lost souls, bearing witness to death unimaginable, but everyone wants something; Penelope just has to find out what that is before they take her to the threshold of no return. They say you learn lessons best when experienced first hand, however, you have no claim to fame with your own until you hear Penelope's. They don't call them nitemares for nothing...
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Table of Contents
♥ Part I.. Bear
♥ Part II.. Reaping Willow
♥ Part III.. Three Past Three
♥ Part IV.. Maybe He Comes
♥ Part V.. 1408
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Posted: Thu Aug 20, 2009 2:53 pm
"S o m e t i m e s T h e D a r k n e s s I s U n b e a r a b l e, B u t A N e c e s s a r y E v i l." ✙✈ ✉ ✌ ✁ ✎ ✐ ❀ {♥} ✰ ❁ ❤ ❥ ❦❧ ➳ ➽ «« т н є η i g h t m a r e D i a r y
Part I...Bear
Barren feet made a discordant melody as they made their way toward a rather sickly looking room. Dimly decorated with but a 1970's style lamp, masses of dust collecting books that had either been read a million times before or gifts that had not been thoroughly thought out enough, and the plain Jane had not the heart to toss them to the garbage heap just yet. A few picture frames with a shiny sort of feel to them had been hung about in an unfashionable order nor had time been taken to remove the photographs that had come with the frames at the time of purchase. Penelope Bourbon was not one of those girls that had many friends, giving her no actual reason to put forth the effort in making her homestead as nice as some. In her opinion, the photographs provided were just how she imagined herself if she was in their shoes, why delude her dreams just because it was not the way things were done in the real world? It did not matter. Penelope was not one who actually lived in the real world, in fact, not even in a world at all. The very first time her dreams became a serious reality was the most interesting night of her life. Mayhap she was a bit frightened, perhaps shaken up as well, however, she did learn to accept that which she had no control over, and when they, those people whose lives had already passed on, ventured into the depths of her mind and invaded her dreams, Penelope accepted them.
Tonight would be no different, aside from the characters she met; it always started the same...
The pearly white face of the great full moon gazed down dreamily, the few remaining clouds have given up their feeble attempts to cover this massive star’s godly glow; disappearing into the abyss far beyond the horizon. It was a cool night, the grasses swaying side to side in a melodramatic dance, almost every strand in perfect unison. Peace and tranquility lay together over the land, and every crevice of this tiny down trodden planet succumbed to them. As earth fell deeper into an unfathomable sleep, the stars garnished the velvet sky, exploding into plain sight with indescribable splendor. The image was something out of a Vincent van Gogh painting, all the colors tango dancing onto the canvas of earth creating a harmonious masterpiece even he would be proud of.
In the gentle hush of sleep, the living locked their doors and turned themselves in for the night, awaiting the hassles that sunrise would convey. Earth would once again open its arms to chaos and movement. The people had very few choices in this life and the next, to either keep moving in turn, or be left in the wake of its absence; the group that could not grasp this concept were very recognizable, a collection of odds and ends the greater portion of society cares nothing about. These are your average drifters, losers, homeless, drug dealers, and in some cases, even war veterans. This planet was notorious for insisting its select few people to give their lives, only to return with nothing short of a cold shoulder. What a noble world this has turned out to be... But those who are valuable enough to escape the eternal clutches of destiny will only rest tonight in triumph, and continue on their chaotic lives until the day they die. A cycle of birth, chaos, and death, not a single person on earth ever breaks from that.
Penelope permitted herself to leave the sanctuary of her bedroom into the dead of night, her sheer night gown flowing behind her like a bride’s veil. Her long white golden locks shimmered in the moon’s light, her eyes fixated at the dirt path just feet in front of her. Her instinct was guiding her through the hours of darkness; her curiosity fueled by visions of deja vu. It was the middle of August on a cold night; all was soundless, aside from the resonance of her own name being whispered into the hollowing winds. Her soul rose from her porcelain body, still, as it lay motionless in deep sleep. She looked down from where she stood to glimpse one last time at her sleeping body, her chest still heaving up and down; a simple yet effective reminder that she remained alive and thriving. She turned, and followed the strange call to her door, and let herself into the gloom of the night, the moon full breasted in the sky. It was always that way when she dreamt, as if to stare down at her with watchful and skeptical eyes. She crossed the vacant wasteland she often called her front yard, and onto the trail leading to a small forest behind her home.
During the summer she could hear the muffled laughter of children, as they played their adolescent games, and splashed into the chilled river that ran completely through the perimeter of her neighborhood. Her small town was identified by it’s scattered forests, fresh clean water, and for the farm lands that stretched on for what seemed to be endless miles. It was a perfect town to conceal what you wished the world not to discover.
Her dream self entered the diminutive excuse for a forest, the sounds of the autumn leaves echoing through the region with every step taken. The voice, though far off in the distance when this excursion began, was now clearly comprehendible, as if just in arms reach. The voice itself was shrill and persistent, instead of calling to her; it was demanding her presence, like a child for its mother’s attention and care.
She compelled herself further into the tiny fortress of trees, until Penelope entered a copious clearing, the great moon above providing the perfect light, as every inch of the clearing was consumed by it.
“Penelope…” The voice spoke to her once more, and she could see at last the creature who had been diligently calling. It was a young boy, ten years of age, by the look of his tiny disposition he couldn't be much older than that. His frail body was covered only by a long shirt, and a pair of overly large white socks, stained from what one could guess was hours of trekking in the mud. The boy turned and began to continue further into the woods; Penelope inaugurated that this small patch of trees was seemingly larger and more expanded then she remembered it to be.
“Wait!” Penelope yelled to him, lunging forward to grab his arm before he could elude her grasp further. “Please, why do you keep calling me? What do you want from me?” She took hold of both of the boy’s shoulders, and looked at him in the face for the first time. His eyes were milky white, huge gashes as deep as knife wounds painted the horrific story of this child’s fate. Penelope gasped, releasing her hold, and took two minute steps back.
“You stole it! You took it! Give it back! The boy reached for her, his hands stretched out like the branches of a willow tree. She stuttered backwards, tripping over her own feet and fell to the cold forest floor. This calm serene vision was spiraling into a gruesome nightmare. Without warning more outstretched hands reached for her. Penelope forced herself to her feet, and backed away from the hungry hands, each belonging to a disfigured child. Penelope watched as they poured into the clearing like water from a broken dam. Children of all races and ages, with more afflictions than Penelope dared count, forced themselves closer to her. Broken or missing limbs, disembowelment, scars, gashes, bruises, and some had large perforations strait through their tiny figures; such a vision brought tears to Penelope’s eyes. Despite their ailments, she could not find it in her heart to tear through them; all of this seemed too real. The scrawny disfigured arms seized anything on Penelope they could, hair, clothes, even her arms and legs. She fought them off, striving to cause as little harm to them as she could muster. But her efforts were in vein, for even though they were feeble and spindly, their strength outmatched her own. Penelope let out a long cry of fear as they pulled her down, unable to move her arms and legs; their eyes staring down at her, like little red lasers from a sniper rifle. The land began to spin, so fast that the color red was all that Penelope could make out. "Let go! I haven't taken anything!" The female's voice rang loudly over the muffled moans these strange children had been diligently emanating. There was no reason to end her existence in this moment and Penelope raised her arm and threw a small body to the side giving her a clear shot out of the mess, as larger wads of her hair were torn from her head; any more of this and she would be bald in a matter of seconds.
Penelope's hands scraped at the dirt path until tree roots allowed her to pull her body from the mass and out of harm's way. With a deep heavy sigh her feet carried her further away from those horrible little vermin though she had no idea where she was to go next. Obviously all of this running is useless if she has no direction, soon she would tire and escape would be impossible. The moon was now obscured by drifting, gray clouds the land about her dark and her eyes squinted through the shadows for any sign of her new, little playmates. For her sake, they were no where in sight, but that did not halt her legs, which were growing hot with every stretch of mile that was traveled. "This is getting me no where..." Thoughts hounded like a barking dog chained up in a used car lot. If she was going to get out of this scenery, she would need to find the key to all of this, what it was that kept these creatures bound to this existence. "They said you had taken something, what are they missing? Other than limbs and parents.." Smirking, Penelope met face to face with a white hued building, a large golden bell sitting atop like some monument to whatever edifice this stood for.
Swings, merry-go-rounds and see-saws gave away the secrecy of this place; a school house. Of course, Penelope had not seen one of this age in a great many years, mayhap her great grandfather might have attended one, but as it stood, they had been closed down years ago since the dawning of public schools. Her first bet was to search the play yard for any sign of something lost, even kicking up the sand did not bring her further in reaching any kind of safety. "If only I knew what you all were looking for!" She yelled out loud, still angry at herself for having been given this strange gift in the first place.
Right on cue, through angered eyes, Penelope saw the little boy who had initially reached out for her attention, and though he had gotten it, he seemed disinterested in receiving her help the easy way. But of course, in these kinds of situations, when was it ever easy? Sighing, the girl knew that she would soon see the others and as if able to read her own thoughts, rows upon rows of those little disfigured children carried themselves from the shadows and revealed their awkward appearances to not only the night but to Penelope who could not bare to look at them. Red eyes stared only at Penelope whose heart was racing faster than a galloping horse in a state race. "Oh god." Hollowed calls broke the chilling silence, and without thinking her shoeless feet drug her to the school house, locking the door as immediately the sound of pounding fists echoed through the four tiny walls that she knew would collapse in but a few short years.
Glass was the next sound as it shattered and limbs of all sizes reached through, moments later Penelope would be covered in frail bodies if she did not take a much closed off position; the spare closet. The door slammed behind her and a wooden chair fit perfectly underneath the knob. With chest heaving in and out rapidly like the waves of the troubled ocean, the girl looked around for something she could use to defend herself, now was not the time to worry about injuring children that were no longer alive, and it wasn't as if one more wound was going to kill them. Boxes were thrown left and right, as the front door to the school house was finally breached, the pitter patter of feet could be heard over the wooden floor boards which moaned over the mass amount of pressure and weight now being applied to them even after so many years of being left alone. The door to the closet was now being rocked back and forth in an attempt to be opened, but the lock was holding; for now. Wood paneling from the wall behind her frightened form fell and knocked over a brown box still untouched in her frantic searching, nearly missing her head by inches. Red eyes filled the oblivion that could be seen through that miniscule crack, just as another panel fell from the door and the sight of broken hands and fingers made their way through, reaching with everything in them to get the woman they thought to have wronged them.
"I don't know what you want! You have to tell me! I can help you!" Screaming, Penelope was dragged to the ground by her hair once again, a hand having reached for her and achieved its goal.
"You stole it from us. We want it back." The voices rang in unison, frightfully eerie in the moonlit night.
"Stole what? What did I steal?" Penelope questioned back, still unable to peace together what it was they were searching for, what they had thought she stole. But there it was in the lost a found bin. The only toy in this whole stupid closet, and as her body was pulled closer towards the reaching hands, her own reached for the stuffed toy taking a hold of it by the strands of its left ear. Without warning, her hands shoved the furry creature into the mass of flesh in hopes of silencing them for but a few moments to give her time to prepare her next move. But with eyes shut, Penelope could hear nothing. Just the silence most nights like these orchestrated through them.
And as soon as Penelope opened her eyes, there was her bed again, the sheets drawn up over her shoulders, the feeling of warmth on her toes, since having put socks on just before falling entirely to slumber. Rising, the clock next to her flickered 2 A.M. over and over again in a florescent green hue. Beads of sweat lined the brim of her forehead allowing her feet to touch the cold floor below and made a break for the bathroom. Just before reaching the hallway, a figure loomed in entryway to the living room, its arms cradling a furry creature she could not forget for the life of her. His smile was charming now that he was not scarred from head to toe, and Penelope's glittering eyes watch him disappear into the darkness.
It just goes to show, sometimes even the small things matter. Brown fuzzy bears to young boys are what golden crowns are to kings. Better to treasure the smallest of matters, who knows what you are going to miss later on. Penelope signs her name at the bottom of her diary. And the nitemare continues on…
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Table of Contents
♥ Part I.. Bear
♥ Part II.. Reaping Willow
♥ Part III.. Three Past Three
♥ Part IV.. Maybe He Comes
♥ Part V.. 1408
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Posted: Thu Aug 20, 2009 2:58 pm
"S o m e t i m e s T h e D a r k n e s s I s U n b e a r a b l e, B u t A N e c e s s a r y E v i l." ✙✈ ✉ ✌ ✁ ✎ ✐ ❀ {♥} ✰ ❁ ❤ ❥ ❦❧ ➳ ➽ «« т н є η i g h t m a r e D i a r y Part II... Reaping Willow
Gilded trees in full bloom lined the sidewalk of Mysteria Court, a normal favorite sight of those who were lucky enough to drive by at a slow pace. Of course, there were not that many people who thought themselves lucky to be looking at trees a two o'clock in the morning without first succumbing to a drunk and jobless stupor. With their lovely flowing branches filled to the brim with lush greenery it is magic to sit and listen to the music as a cool wind rushes by. Of course during the winter time, naked and leafless, they looked more like tragic edifices to something that once was beautiful. Their stalks of bark reaching out into cloudy, gray sky as if to beg for sustenance. Mysteria court had many faces, depending on which one you looked at was how you were going to determine your thoughts on the whole scene.
Every two steps was a crack, either by weather erosion or by sheer force of will, however, they played a valuable role in the symphony that echoed every second of the day. As school lets out one can hear the subtle laughter of children and that all too familiar little jingle: "don't step on a crack or you'll fall and break your back..." Sometimes it was their mother's back but that was all a part of adolescent angst, at least, that was Penelope’s opinion. From her window she watched them, skipping over the cracks without a care of how they came to be. With eyes that knew of the world, bright like a mid morning glow, entrusted with the knowledge of all things supernatural, flaked with a gray undertone that was no stranger to sorrow, Penelope watched them; envious of their youth and yet angered of their absentminded jargon, unable to grasp the importance of even those seemingly sordid little details like cracks in the side walk. Jealous of their freedoms, not bound to the code of existence where you either fell in line or you fell, children were creatures she could not understand.
Underneath a mess of fire-red sunset colored strands, the lanky female whose face was adorned with freckles that equaled the needles it took to correctly commence an acupuncture treatment, edged away from her viewing window and made her first glance at the diary sitting on its lonesome, the table underneath it was old, the boards seeming to bend away from the weight of even just a book. Penelope would one day replace that. For the past few months the diary was all that stole her attention. The restless spirits were no longer in their enigmatic state. They were reaching for her any way they could muster. The lights would flicker and the female would have to search frantically for any kind of device to illuminate her way, in the darkness was when the worst kinds of spirits liked to crawl out from their shadowed crevices and attempt to choke the life out of her. Though demonic and a bit grotesque, Penelope could not blame them for they were killed in the worst ways imaginable and were only mimicking what their last memories have taught them, hatred.
Besides, Penelope was not one to cast judgment on anyone great or small. She was a woman of about five-feet, three inches, small in comparison to her long deceased relatives. With pale skin and lacking the two other meals to complete the day-sort of body, Penelope was a skinny humanoid who was sometimes mistaken for a fashion model, three croutons away from completely vanishing when turning around. Those beautifully dark ringlets of crimson red curls that sat about her head practically un-brushed were all that one could defer her from female and rag doll. Perhaps if she took more time to beatify herself like a proper lady she would not be sitting around during the hours of daylight wondering about the happenings that twilight would possibly convey.
That was another matter entirely its own. Piano player's fingers delicately traced the folds in the leather bound cover that protected the papyrus sheets scribed upon inside. Penelope had read those pages over and over again, that horrific feeling of fear slicing its way into her blood stream able to stop her heart almost instantly; silence growing heavy with every word read aloud. Some days she would slam the diary and toss it across the room with a fury she never knew she was capable of. Being such a tiny woman, acts and fits of strength were mysteries that remained so even after thinking about them. There were things about her that changed every day that time was raping away, passing each by as if they were nothing but a piece of meat, but to Penelope they were more than just little shreds of her past. They were moments where she was forced to realize that there were things far beyond mortal comprehension. Penelope, as it stood, was just one small thing in the clutter of other small things, existing on some really big thing. Furthering the language would only defer it further from understanding, and so far Penelope was only able to make out half of the things her inner self truly knows, but denies, speaking in complicated riddles and past tense voices like a bard on an acid trip.
The phone rings. Twice. Three times. The red-head drags herself lazily to its putrid calling and answers. "Hello?" Her voice is ached with restlessness and lack of aqua. But there is nothing on the other end, loud static like the cable running out on the idiot box. "Hello?" Persisting as she was, nothing was going to make this phone call any less awkward, and Penelope hung it up, laying the out-dated receiver back upon its body, only to have it ring the instant it was set down. "Hello?" The phone still emanated nothing but that familiar static, and without delay she hung it back up, unplugging it entirely from the wall. The silence was alluring, the echo of cars honking in the streets far beyond the stretch of city her home was occupying. The glitter of street lamps were lighting up the horizon like the stars in the night sky, breaking through the black with enough force to power the entirety of earth.
"Feeeeed meeeeee..." Her cat meowed at her; he was more human than most domesticated house cats, as he circled her leg, those bright emerald fields demanding that food be set before him in a timely fashion. The feline had been with her for three years now, and in those three years she had yet to give him a proper name.
"Alright Cat, I shall feed you. What shall it be? Cat food or cat food?" Penelope watched the cat stare at her, his expression, "what the hell, I said food, and that meant now." Without further discussion with her fur-faced friend, Penelope trailed her way towards the kitchen, Cat jumping onto the counter meowing his little fur head off in sheer happiness. A plastic bowl with the word, "CAT," in bold, silver letters had been set near the spice garden window, lacking to say, the spices needed to define the window as such. There was a small pot set aside, but that was the closest thing to a spice garden as it was going to get.
With the bowl filled with some kind of chunky, meaty, saucy looking clump of cat food, Cat looked up at Penelope with eyes as big as an Irish field, his way of gracing her with thanks; his head bent low into the bowl lapping away until his belly would be full and it would be time for his nightly belly rub, before heading off to where ever it was that he had made his bed chambers. It was in those fleeting moments that the phone, the only phone in the entire house, which had been strung off of its power source, that phone, began to ring. Penelope shot a glance at the clock hung just above her refrigerator, its second hand circling about as time was racing by.
Hesitant at first, Penelope glided back towards the now cordless phone, with shaking hands lifted the receiver to her ear and was graced with that same static that had sounded through the phone just moments ago. "Hello?" Voice trembling, Penelope listened intently for any sign of life on the other side.
"The... wil...lows..." It whispered, and finally hung up.
Something had made contact, a usual feat happening solely in the hours where she was suppose to be sleeping or trapped in that dream sequence that conveyed her image in the most strangest ways. Sometimes she was a lady of radiant sunlight, golden locks of moon beams, others she was lifeless, dark raven hair covering a scarred face. On occasion, Penelope saw herself as a man, however misunderstood the image was, she was never too sure on her dream self and what shape it was to take until she was already immersed in the sequence.
"Alright Cat. I am calling it quits for the night. You do your cat things and I will do my people things..." Cat only looked at her with that silly face he always carried and raised his fur eyebrow as if annoyed at her for interrupting his meal time. "I know, I know. What has that got to do with you? Just eat and I will let you be." Penelope carried her dead weight to her room and shut the door, having retrieved the diary from its place on her table and back into the comfort of her less than appealing bedroom. A cluttered desk with an endless sea of papers shrouded the room with the only life that could be noted. Other than those strangers who lined her walls in frames of dark ebony and the familiar scent of chocolate mint omitted from the incense sticks placed neatly on a barren shelf, there was nothing in this room that made it homely, to normal people standards, whatever those were.
The bed, the entire centerfold of this white walled prison, was something to be envied. Having purchased the mattress for a whopping seven-hundred dollars, when really it was wholesaled for three-thousand, Penelope had never made such a great steal, and probably never would. Aside from Cat, he was free. Well, that was actually a lie. Penelope was almost certain that if she did not feed Cat on a daily basis that he would murder her in her sleep or worse, leave her to ponder the imponderables. Perhaps she did have a friend in this world of whom she did not give enough credit, Cat was the only creature on said earth that tolerated her and her noise, isn't that what a friend was?
Bed sheets of silk and satin in an epic blue tint cascading to a faded pale green, adorned the mattress like a monument to the great notions of sleep. They were specially designed to keep her cooler at night, seeing as her circumstances often left her in puddles of sweat and tears. Without these sheets Penelope was certain her heart would fail from the intense heat of the room during the summer, when even the mosquitoes were too ravaged with heat to plague humanity with their itchy little bites. Naked, the red head crawled into her bed her back forming to the mattress as if there was no definition between skin and cloth. Graceful yet tired hands lay flat taking hold of the sheets and covering her Porceline body, goose bumps forming at the first instant the silk slithered its way across her nude form. “They cannot get me. They cannot get me. I am nothing but a traveler in the lands of their own. I am but a seeker of knowledge; I help those who cannot help themselves.” Penelope repeated these same shaky lines before venturing into sleep. They were her safety net, what may be the difference between living and fulfilling her purpose or dieing and sweeping the lands of the Dreaming world as a lost soul. Though the only person who would miss her was Cat, and that would be because of his empty belly, Penelope would not desire a life where she was void of a purpose, or a cause that demanded her existence. So instead she would make sure to be as safe in the dream life as she was, in a sense, in the real world.
Though that strange phone call was beckoning for her to stay awake, Penelope closed her eyes, the back of her lids darker than eternal night, and as all livelihood faded from her expression, the dreaming lady plunged into her world of horror awaiting for her dream self to come into a much clearer view….
Dreary eyes tore open almost on cue as if summoned to do so seconds after having closed for slumber. There was heaviness to her chest, and Penelope reached up towards her heart only to have it blocked by some wooden obstruction. It was then that she realized the darkness surrounding her was not because her dream was clouded by night but she had been trapped in a wooden box much like that of a coffin. The little beating muscle in her chest began to heave almost instantly, unable to do anything but stare up into the shadows of this tiny prison. Penelope moved her feet against the wood and was relived to know that her dream form had shoes unlike the last one where she was in nothing but a sheer night gown and flesh. Not knowing what lay on the other side, the dreaming female began to kick the top of the coffin with all the force allowed by her strength. Every swift movement allowed her sight passage to the outside world. A flickering of red colored glow peeked in every time the boards were loosened from the rest of the wooden obstruct. Penelope continued to kick with everything in her until finally, the nails released their hold on the structure and coffin, Penelope and all came tumbling down out of the prison and met with cold, dirt floor. Bandaged arms were the first things that her eyes could see since having been forced to view nothingness.
For a moment all was silent as Penelope stood to her borrowed feet, which were concealed in an ebony shaded pair of Victorian heels, the moon’s great face peered out from behind fluffy, pristine clouds, the clearest indication that she was fully in her dream sequence.
“Are you out for a stroll tonight, M’lady?” An almost familiar voice rang from beyond her sight. The dream version of Penelope was afraid to turn around, afraid of what might be waiting once she did. If it were possible her shoulder angel would be advising her to run as fast as she could in the opposite direction of said voice, but the shoulder devil was edging her to be less of chicken s**t and turn around.
Penelope turned around. Shoulder devil plus one, and shoulder angel must one day catch the rebound. But there was nothing grotesque about the creature standing before her. Dressed in a steely dark suit with golden trim lining the openings which directed viewers to a cotton white shirt. Masculine legs thought clearly concealed in cloth did not deny shape and definition to the well toned calves therein. In fact, the tightly worn pants were a monument to their beauty forming to every curve that these simple tools of walking had to offer. Lost in thought as to why such a beautiful and visually stunning creature was standing before her, Penelope lingered in silence until the gentleman, whose radiant hair, the feathers of Poe’s raven, seemed to glisten with oils in the cascading moonlight, broke the hollowed winds with his accented voice. “Are you, feeling yourself? Shall I call the medic to assist you?” There was worry in that face, a glorious complexion that would make even the most beautiful super model jealous, and probably pay up the butt to achieve. Nightmares were not meant to harvest such beautiful creatures such as this, and though something felt out of place Penelope was here to do what she did best.
“No. No, that will not be necessary.” Pausing, Penelope rustled with some of the hay that was sprawled out around the dirt flooring. If she followed the trail it would cast her view to a very large white barn, a chicken coop sitting just at the very top. If she did not know any better, it would have mirrored the school house from last night’s horrific excursion. Squinting, the gentlemen before her interrupted her thoughts and brought her back down to reality.
His gorgeous and radiant brown eyes, the color of healthy earth followed what she had been so diligently spying. “It’s my barn. Listen, are you sure you are alright? You are the most strangest woman I have ever met. Forgive my rude lecturing, you should not be out here at such a late hour, the Reapers tend to hound this late at night, if you linger, you may as well be their next victim.”
Suffice to say, Penelope was not entirely keen on the idea of Reapers and being a victim of everything, but against her better judgment she pressed the matter further, why was the question she asked over and over again in her head like a broken record; annoyingly playing the same three seconds of sound only to laugh at the reactions of those left to hear it. “Indulge me sir, what are Reapers?” It was then that she recognized the dimly lit lamp in the palm of his right hand, watching the flame flicker to and fro between the fogged glass. A wrought iron handle kept his hand from burning by a wayward spark.
As if she had slapped the face of God himself, the gentleman glared at Penelope with such force she was almost inclined to take a few steps away in case he found her words too great an insult to let slide by. “Are you sure you are alright? Or, are you an out of town, either way you should know that the Reapers are. Are you from out of town?” Now the concern returned to his face, making the look in his eyes one to remember for years to come. It was like watching the sun set over the ocean, marveling the beauty of color and iridescence all intertwined. There was magic in those eyes.
There was only one way to get through this mess and that was through this man before her. Obviously this dream sequence had planned for them to meet and Penelope would do whatever it took to ensure a long winded conversation to happen between them, it meant discovering the necessity of this dream and being locked in it forever. “Yes. I am a traveler, wandering the world for a place to hang my hat. Do you have suggestions as to where I can slumber for the evening?” Blending in was going to be a cinch. All she had to do was speak in a voice most befitting the time period and act jovial around men, and hook link and sinker.
“This time of night, no, but I cannot in good conscience allow a lovely lady like yourself to wander the streets so dangerous as ours. May I offer you a bed in my own homestead?” Kindness broke the seriousness of his composure the grace of all the Gods in heaven in the flick of a fractured smile.
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Table of Contents
♥ Part I.. Bear
♥ Part II.. Reaping Willow
♥ Part III.. Three Past Three
♥ Part IV.. Maybe He Comes
♥ Part V.. 1408
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