Ok, so I had another stab at the ol' writing. It was hard going to start with, but it got more fluent as I went on. I'm quite enjoying writing it, so I might continue on with it, rather than becoming bored and giving up, as per normal!
She had never risen so fast in her life. Mia sat bolt upright, a sheen of cold sweat covering her forehead. She was struck immediately by the nature of her surroundings: she had been sleeping in a bed, and yet had no knowledge of her arrival there. Concrete memories slowly began to detach themselves from the tangled morass of her brain. Distorted images flickered across her consciousness: there was a prison, fighting, blood, a storm...and a tangible sense of fear. She remembered falling and an iridescent pain; tentatively she reached up to her head...and felt nothing but smooth unblemished skin. The memory of her flight was too real to be discounted and the intense pain all too vivid in her mind; so how has it come to pass that she is lying in a bed, unharmed and rejuvenated?
Mia held her head tight in her hands and tried to take stock, yet all was blank. She had no notion of life before the prison, and of that the images were hazy. There was a dim recollection of waking up on a wooden bench in a dank cell, the doors of her prison swinging slowly open even as she blinked the sleep from her eye. But she had escaped. Whatever her life prior to imprisonment she had been given a second chance, and whatever the nature of this place in which she found herself, it certainly looked a damn sight more welcoming than the prison. Lifting herself, she abandoned the bed and found to her amazement that her prison garb too had vanished. She was dressed impeccably in dark hued finery; a blouse trimmed with white silk, trousers of soft leather, and an imposing pair of boots which were somehow light and soundless as she walked over the wooden flooring. Maybe somewhere I have a rich benefactor, she thought to herself, with a brief smile.
There was a small window in the room which Mia instantly gravitated to; peering through the dusty pane she overlooked a market, already in full life: she must have been asleep for some time. Last night's storm was a distant memory: the air was still and its only legacy were the pools of water carefully skirted by the huddled market-goers. Pulling back from the window Mia examined the room: it was spartan at best; the faded wood panelling betraying it's age, the floorboards looking unstable. Over the far side of the room was a mirror to which Mia approached, in the hope that seeing her own face might presage the lost memories. she was not prepared for the sight that greeted her. Her eyes were devoid of colour and life, sharp black pupils surrounded by a sea of white. Her breath caught in her throat, and she stumbled back from the sight in shock. These could not be her eyes! They were not the eyes of a human! Steeling herself, she looked again, trying desperately to control the revulsion as the dark voids stared back like lumps of coal in pure white snow. The rest of her face was the reverse: the porcelain white of her skin framed by a cascading mane of black hair.
Shaken to her core, Mia had a sudden urge to leave this place and shun all human contact, lest she be treated with fear and revulsion. Maybe this was why she had been in the prison? She was not fit for the eyes of man?
Throwing wide the room's only door, she fled out into a wide hallway, yards away from a flight of stairs. Not daring to look left or right, Mia went straight for the stairs, and sailed down them two at a time. The foot of the staircase led into a large room replete with a sizeable bar and many tables: she had clearly awoken in a tavern of some sort. Not wishing to become anymore acquainted with the oddly deserted establishment, she ran for the main door. Yet just as her hand reached out, she was interrupted by a bass voice emanating from behind the bar.
"Sleeping beauty's awoken then has she?" Mia froze with her back to the voice; not wanting the man to see her eyes.
"What's the matter, girl? Too high and mighty to look at a commoner when he's talking to you?" The man's voice became aggressive as he marched over the room towards Mia. Her mind was screaming out for her to open the door and run, yet her feet remained rooted, stubbornly disobeying.
"What's wrong with you?!", The man growled as he clamped his hand down on Mia's shoulder. The contact jerked her suddenly into life, and she swung around to face the assailant.
"Hells teeth!" the man exclaimed, his face turning quickly pallid as he backed away from Mia, stumbling over a stool in his haste to put distance between them.
The tension inside Mia broke at the sight of the man's reaction, and she sobbed brokenly.
"Please, tell me how I arrived here. I don't remember coming here, I remember...nothing." Her voice was thin and measured, crystal clear despite her emotional state. Her pitiful reaction had calmed the man's nerves somewhat, as he backed away behind the barrier of the bar and took a lusty swig from an unidentified bottle. Mia threw him what she hoped was a beseeching look, but was probably more akin to a piercing stare.
"You were brought in unconscious late last night by some young guy; tall, dark, well dressed." The man still refused to meet Mia's gaze. "He tells me to house you for a night, and to give you this," here the man reached under the bar and pulled out a sealed scroll. "He paid me a handsome sum, this bloke of yours, and now I can see why. Take your note and get out of here." with that he threw the scroll in Mia's direction, still steadfastly refusing to meet the ethereal gaze of her eyes. Reaching down, she snatched it up, but hesistated, wanting to know more of how she arrived at the tavern. Answers were not forthcoming for her however, as the man was plainly peturbed by her presence.
"Get out," he spat with urgency, "begone! Don't sully my property any further!" Feeling tears again welling in her eyes, Mia hurled herself out the door, and felt a rush of cold air as she stepped out of the tavern's confines.
In other news, The England football team just lost to mighty Northern Ireland; very amusing!!
She had never risen so fast in her life. Mia sat bolt upright, a sheen of cold sweat covering her forehead. She was struck immediately by the nature of her surroundings: she had been sleeping in a bed, and yet had no knowledge of her arrival there. Concrete memories slowly began to detach themselves from the tangled morass of her brain. Distorted images flickered across her consciousness: there was a prison, fighting, blood, a storm...and a tangible sense of fear. She remembered falling and an iridescent pain; tentatively she reached up to her head...and felt nothing but smooth unblemished skin. The memory of her flight was too real to be discounted and the intense pain all too vivid in her mind; so how has it come to pass that she is lying in a bed, unharmed and rejuvenated?
Mia held her head tight in her hands and tried to take stock, yet all was blank. She had no notion of life before the prison, and of that the images were hazy. There was a dim recollection of waking up on a wooden bench in a dank cell, the doors of her prison swinging slowly open even as she blinked the sleep from her eye. But she had escaped. Whatever her life prior to imprisonment she had been given a second chance, and whatever the nature of this place in which she found herself, it certainly looked a damn sight more welcoming than the prison. Lifting herself, she abandoned the bed and found to her amazement that her prison garb too had vanished. She was dressed impeccably in dark hued finery; a blouse trimmed with white silk, trousers of soft leather, and an imposing pair of boots which were somehow light and soundless as she walked over the wooden flooring. Maybe somewhere I have a rich benefactor, she thought to herself, with a brief smile.
There was a small window in the room which Mia instantly gravitated to; peering through the dusty pane she overlooked a market, already in full life: she must have been asleep for some time. Last night's storm was a distant memory: the air was still and its only legacy were the pools of water carefully skirted by the huddled market-goers. Pulling back from the window Mia examined the room: it was spartan at best; the faded wood panelling betraying it's age, the floorboards looking unstable. Over the far side of the room was a mirror to which Mia approached, in the hope that seeing her own face might presage the lost memories. she was not prepared for the sight that greeted her. Her eyes were devoid of colour and life, sharp black pupils surrounded by a sea of white. Her breath caught in her throat, and she stumbled back from the sight in shock. These could not be her eyes! They were not the eyes of a human! Steeling herself, she looked again, trying desperately to control the revulsion as the dark voids stared back like lumps of coal in pure white snow. The rest of her face was the reverse: the porcelain white of her skin framed by a cascading mane of black hair.
Shaken to her core, Mia had a sudden urge to leave this place and shun all human contact, lest she be treated with fear and revulsion. Maybe this was why she had been in the prison? She was not fit for the eyes of man?
Throwing wide the room's only door, she fled out into a wide hallway, yards away from a flight of stairs. Not daring to look left or right, Mia went straight for the stairs, and sailed down them two at a time. The foot of the staircase led into a large room replete with a sizeable bar and many tables: she had clearly awoken in a tavern of some sort. Not wishing to become anymore acquainted with the oddly deserted establishment, she ran for the main door. Yet just as her hand reached out, she was interrupted by a bass voice emanating from behind the bar.
"Sleeping beauty's awoken then has she?" Mia froze with her back to the voice; not wanting the man to see her eyes.
"What's the matter, girl? Too high and mighty to look at a commoner when he's talking to you?" The man's voice became aggressive as he marched over the room towards Mia. Her mind was screaming out for her to open the door and run, yet her feet remained rooted, stubbornly disobeying.
"What's wrong with you?!", The man growled as he clamped his hand down on Mia's shoulder. The contact jerked her suddenly into life, and she swung around to face the assailant.
"Hells teeth!" the man exclaimed, his face turning quickly pallid as he backed away from Mia, stumbling over a stool in his haste to put distance between them.
The tension inside Mia broke at the sight of the man's reaction, and she sobbed brokenly.
"Please, tell me how I arrived here. I don't remember coming here, I remember...nothing." Her voice was thin and measured, crystal clear despite her emotional state. Her pitiful reaction had calmed the man's nerves somewhat, as he backed away behind the barrier of the bar and took a lusty swig from an unidentified bottle. Mia threw him what she hoped was a beseeching look, but was probably more akin to a piercing stare.
"You were brought in unconscious late last night by some young guy; tall, dark, well dressed." The man still refused to meet Mia's gaze. "He tells me to house you for a night, and to give you this," here the man reached under the bar and pulled out a sealed scroll. "He paid me a handsome sum, this bloke of yours, and now I can see why. Take your note and get out of here." with that he threw the scroll in Mia's direction, still steadfastly refusing to meet the ethereal gaze of her eyes. Reaching down, she snatched it up, but hesistated, wanting to know more of how she arrived at the tavern. Answers were not forthcoming for her however, as the man was plainly peturbed by her presence.
"Get out," he spat with urgency, "begone! Don't sully my property any further!" Feeling tears again welling in her eyes, Mia hurled herself out the door, and felt a rush of cold air as she stepped out of the tavern's confines.
In other news, The England football team just lost to mighty Northern Ireland; very amusing!!
VIEW 7 of 7 COMMENTS
Yeah, I think in front of my lovely fireplace might be a nice idea, and I do have a few things that I think might work...
Keep up with the writing, its sounding good!