Closed Eyes - 7

Patrick leaned forward and kissed her forehead, then brushed a hand through her silvery hair. "Don't ever do that to me again," he scolded gently. "If you're that tired, tell me and I won't make you do anything." 

Cece raised an eyebrow. "Oh really now? You won't make me do anything?" 

"Only if you are that tired again," he corrected her with a mischievous grin. "Which I won't let you, Cece. Something serious could go wrong if that happens again. I'm just glad you passed out when I was around," Patrick said, more stern this time. 

Cece rolled her eyes. "It was just exhaustion, Patrick. It happens when you lack sleep for a week and then drive straight through the night and only get two hours of sleep. I had to do it or else I wouldn't have made it to your dinner." 

Patrick reached over and grabbed her right hand and clutched both hands to his chest, as if making sure she was paying attention. "But you didn't make it anyway. Neither did I. So obviously it wasn't worth it."

Cece yanked her hands away from him and quickly sat up, causing her head to spin for a moment and her skin scream from a burning pain all over her body. She glared at Patrick accusingly. "But if I hadn't tried to get here in time you'd be furious and tell me that I wasn't trying hard enough, that you never get to see me as it is. You know that if this hadn't happened then you would have been grateful that I had driven all night to get here!" 

Patrick took a step back from her sudden burst of anger and sighed heavily. "I guess you're right. I'm sorry, Cec." 

"You better be!" Cece sat back down in the hospital bed and crossed her arms across her chest stubbornly. 

A knock sounded at the door before opening to reveal a graying doctor with a name badge claiming the name of "Jonathon Pesch". 

"I was glad to hear you were awake, Cece," the doctor said cheerfully, paying no mind to the tension that filled the room. He walked to her bedside and began tapping on the monitor and fluid bag. "Everything seems to be normal, but you really need to be making sure you're getting enough sleep. There are many side effects to being lacking so much sleep that you are passing out." He turned to Cece, watching her intensely to make sure she was listening. 

"Dr. Pesch, tell me, can one of the side effects be my skin feeling like it's on fire?" Cece asked, feeling the discomfort all throughout her body. 

The doctor frowned. "Well, I suppose it could be an allergic reaction to something, but it wouldn't be from lack of sleep." 

Cece shrugged, becoming all too aware of the pressure of the hospital gown she was wearing as it pressed against her tender skin. It certainly did feel like sunburn, and suddenly she wished she had the magic cream she had made up in her dream. Think of something pleasant, she thought to herself, remembering the words the dream Loyie had told her. 

"We can run a few tests just to make sure it's nothing to be concerned about," the doctor said, interrupting her thoughts. 

Cece only nodded. 

 

What seemed like hours of poking with needles and being asked over and over again, "Does this hurt? Where does it hurt the most? What does it feel like?", the doctor did as many tests as he felt necessary. 

"Maybe we should keep you another night for observation," Dr. Pesch suggested, eyeing the clipboard in his hand as if the test results would magically appear there. 

"No, really, I'm already feeling much better," Cece lied. In fact, she felt much worse, her skin burning on her back from the doctor sticking her with needles to see if she was allergic to anything, and burning from all the pressure he and the nurse where putting on certain limbs of her body to see what hurt worse. "Maybe I could just go home and you can call me when the results come in." 

The doctor looked up from his clipboard, chuckling. "Cece, there could be a number of serious side effects from such a lack of sleep, but being overly tired and having burning skin? This may all be something much worse than being too tired." 

Patrick, who had been sitting on the waiting chair watching Cece with concern, stood up in a rush and grasped a hold of the doctor's arm. "What do you mean?" His hazel eyes were wide with worry. Even his shortly cut brown hair seemed more ruffled than Cece first remembered seeing after she woke. 

The doctor patted Patrick's arm, letting him know that Patrick needed to let go of his arm. "I don't know yet. That's why I prefer to keep her here over night to make sure everything is really okay." 

Cece shook her head. "Dr. Pesch, really, I'm feeling much better. It feels more like I just have a bunch of needle pricks in my back now," she joked, making the doctor smile at her attempt for humor. Patrick, however, seemed less than amused. 

"Cece, you should listen to the doctor. What if this is something worse?" Her fiancée stepped closer to her, putting on his calm cop face that Cece hated to see during one of their arguments. He certainly was preparing to keep her in that hospital, but Cece wanted nothing to do with another moment spent in that bed and in the hospital gown. 

"Patrick, I need sleep, not observation, and I would prefer to do it at home in our own bed," she said through gritted teeth, emphasizing his name in a warning tone. 

"I'm sorry Miss Rank, it's not negotiable," Dr. Pesch said, scribbling one last note before sticking the pen into the pocket of his white coat. 

Sighing, Cece glared at Patrick. She waited for the doctor to leave before lashing out at her fiancée. "That was uncalled for. I could be sleeping in my own bed tonight! How could this be anything but me being over exhausted? You know that I drove all night!" 

Patrick crossed his arms and stood straighter, the calm cop face never leaving his expression. He was ready for this fight and was gathering all his ammo. "You and I both know that this isn't the first time you drove all night to get home and then gone out to dinner or a movie with me only after a few hours of sleep. You do it practically every month." He never rose his voice, but instead took on a stern tone that always made Cece furious. 

"Well maybe this was just a fluke. I had to drive further than normal so of course I was going to be more tired than usual!" 

Patrick shook his head. "You've driven from California all the way to Virginia without stopping before. Cec, this just isn't like you. Maybe you should just speak in our area. You know Roanoke School District has asked you to speak there several times, and even Richmond wants you. There's plenty of opportunity here." 

Cece watched Patrick for a long moment, grinding her teeth in frustration. This wasn't the first time he had suggested she stay in Virginia, rather than travel from state to state speaking at major conferences for many major corporations. "The one week I travel every month is enough to pay for our bills for that month. If I stop doing all these conferences you know I'll be gone nearly every single day to make up for what I get paid now. Even with all the gas money I spend in that week, it still is plenty to cover our apartment and utilities!" 

Patrick sighed heavily before dropping his crossed arms and lightly clasped Cece's hands in his. He was starting to cave, finally. "Cec, I don't care about the money. You can just work whenever you want. So what if it's not as much as you get paid now? We can just tighten up on our budget. Please, Cece, I don't want anything to happen to you." He looked into her eyes, his hazel eyes pleading. 

Cece looked back intently, her gray eyes locked seriously onto his. "Then tell me how we are going to pay for this wedding? Tell me how we're supposed to afford the new car you bought me? Tell me how we're supposed to afford even our tiny little apartment?" 

"We can cut back on some of our expenses. We can sell the car and I can buy you a used one since you wouldn't have to drive it as much. We can make it work, Cec." 

She shook her head and pulled her hands away from Patrick. "I thought you supported me. I thought you were proud of me and the fact that I could talk in front of a huge crowd of people and bring them to tears and have them come up to me and ask for my autograph and my advice." 

Patrick glared at Cece, anger rising in his eyes. "Don't you pull that crap on me, Cece. You know how proud I am of you and all that you do for people, but not at the risk of your own health!" 

Taken aback, Cece swallowed hard, suddenly regretting her decision to use the 'support' card on him. She knew how excited for her he always was when she got a call from a company asking her to speak at their conference, then got more excited when she mentioned how much they were willing to pay her.  

"I'm so sorry," she whispered and let her eyes drop to the blanket, hating to see how angry she was making him. His anger was out of concern for her. Cece supposed that she would be reacting the same way if the roles were reversed, though she knew there was always a chance that Patrick would get hurt on the job. She just never tried to keep him from his job like he suddenly was for hers. 

Patrick tipped her chin up with a finger, though Cece didn't look into his eyes. 

"Look at me," he commanded. He waited for a moment until Cece gradually brought her eyes up to meet Patrick's. "I love you. That's why this scares the crap out of me." 

"I love you too," she finally replied tiredly. She reached forward and ran her fingers along the back of Patrick's head, slowly bringing him closer to her. 

He smiled and caressed her cheek before leaning over all the way and kissing Cece deeply. She let the kiss linger for a moment before pulling back slightly. She blinked a few times to regain her bearings, knowing how Patrick's passionate kisses always made her head spin. 

Grinning, Cece kissed the tip of Patrick's nose and rested her forehead against his. He chuckled and closed his eyes, sighing heavily. 

"I knew you wouldn't be mad at me for long," he teased, making Cece hit his arm and push him away from her. 

She stuck her tongue out at him, letting him know that she was only joking. He laughed and backed away from the bed, hands held up in surrender. He turned and grabbed the heavy wooden framed waiting chair and placed it beside the bed. 

"Now, tell me about this dream you had," he said, settling into the chair and casually kicking his feet up onto the edge of the bed.

 

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A Horrible Dream (Post Eight)

"What's in there?"  He bent down to take a look but had trouble seeing past Marla's huddled form in the cramped, dark space.  What he could see was the large, dark form of a person huddled back in the far reaches.  "Who is that?  Is that Jack?"  He could see enough to make out the large but thin frame that could only be Jack.  It was much too big to be Sam.

Marla spent some time with what could only be Jack, trying to coax him out into the room.  Her questioning was responded to with hushed, hurried whispers.  He refused to move.  It seemed like he was hiding from someone.  Or maybe something.  Finally she gently grabbed his hand and began guiding him slowly towards the light.  Every once in a while he would stop and try to get back into the dark but after a few more seconds of gentle coaxing he would start forward again.

It wasn't long before they got Jack into the room and onto the bed where he sat looking distant and nervous.  "What happened?"

Jack slowly turned his head towards him.  "It... It was... I don't know..."  He withdrew into himself more, going silent for a few moments before continuing.  "I just came up here to see what Sam was doing, and then Marla was pulling me out of there."  He motioned to the crawlspace without looking at it.  "I can't remember anything.  I just know that it was after me and that I had to get away."  He curled his knees to his chest and cradled himself, obviously starting to relive whatever had happened.

"Where is Sam?  She wasn't in there with you.  She never came back downstairs..."  He crouched by the crawlspace door, one hand resting on the wall above it, the other on his thigh.  Things were getting really weird and he wasn't sure he could make sense of it.

"I don't know... I just don't know... I don't remem-Wait... There was something.  The statue that you found.  It was-" Suddenly there was a loud crash from downstairs, drawing everyone's attention.  It sounded like plates and silverware tumbling to the floor.  Everyone but Jack made a move to go see what happened.  Marla decided to stay behind with him.

Beth clung close to his side, obviously not too excited about what was going on.  "What do you think is happening?  This is all too weird."  She was playing with her fingers nervously as they walked towards the stairs.

"I don't know.  I'd say it's nothing but, come on... Jack isn't normally spooked like that.  Either that or they are trying to play a trick on us."  They stepped into the kitchen to find every cupboard open, many of their former contents on the floor.  "A very elaborate prank..."

Beth covered her mouth and slowly backed out of the room before turning away from the door.  Suddenly she screamed.

"What?  Wha-"  He whirled to see what had startled her.  Sam was there, standing at the bottom of the stairs looking very confused.  The cabin's front door was ajar a few feet behind her.  "Sam?  Were you outside?  Why?  How?"  He stepped towards her to stand next to Beth who had rushed up after the initial shock had worn off.  "When?"

Closed Eyes - 6

The prince seemed to want to protest, but instead set his own steaming cup of tea down and scooped up his bow and quiver. "If you need me, you know where I'll be," he murmured before strolling out the door. 

"Do not mind him," Loyie said, walking over to a rocking chair and sitting lightly at the edge of the seat. Cece followed suit, but sat all the way back against the chair, letting herself rock slightly. "He just feels the need to protect his people from the coming evil, and anything dealing with the prophecy makes him nervous." 

Cece only stared at the woman, her gray eyes blank. None of Loyie's words meant anything to her, so stayed silent. 

Taking a sip of her tea and swallowing slowly, Loyie sighed in satisfaction. "But you are not here to talk about the problems of our people. You are here because you need answers just as much as we do." 

"What do you mean?" Cece asked before finally taking a sip of the hot tea. It was flavorful with a hint of mint and lemon. At least the prince knows how to make a good cup of tea!

"Tell me, how do you think you got here?" 

Cece frowned at the woman. "I don't know, I passed out at my fiancée's formal dinner and the next thing I knew, I woke up down on that beach totally naked and my engagement ring missing." Cece paused, watching Loyie's blank expression. "I don't understand why I have to explain this to my dream, anyway. This is just ridiculous." 

Loyie watched Cece for a long moment. Her pale blue eyes seemed to weigh and measure every part of Cece's being, as if searching for answers only Loyie could find. 

"A dream? You think you are dreaming?" 

Cece set the cup of tea on the ground and grunted in annoyance. "Of course this is just a dream. Every part of this is my subconscious mind. My mind must really be trying to tell me something if it's trying to convince me that this is real." 

"I did not know people could see things so vividly and feel pain so freshly while they were dreaming," was Loyie's only mild reply. She said it as a simple statement, casting doubt into Cece's mind. 

"I didn't know it either, but obviously it's happening. There's no way anything like this place actually exists!" Cece's tone rose. She could feel herself getting defensive, but didn't care. She wanted answers, but the ones Loyie were presenting was not helpful. 

Before she could say more, Cece suddenly felt the room spin. She grasped her head and closed her eyes. It was the same sensation she had felt back at the Riverside Dining Hall. She felt exhausted, as if the weight of the dream was crashing down on her in her mind. 

"Child, you need sleep. Maybe tomorrow you will have a clear head." Loyie's tone held concern. She could hear the woman stand, then the dull thud of her placing her cup beside the rocking chair. 

Lifting her head, she could see Loyie's form in front of her, a hand extended for Cece to take. 

Gratefully she took the woman's hand, who helped her out of the rocking chair and led her toward a pile of blankets in the corner of the room. Cece wasn't sure why she wanted to sleep so much, considering she had never wanted to sleep in a dream before… she was already asleep, after all. 

Before long, Loyie had the woolen blankets spread out with Cece tucked in like her mother used to do when she was sick. Her head kept spinning and her eyelids felt heavy. Soon she kept her eyes closed and took a deep breath, hoping that when she opened her eyes she would be back with Patrick and her own life.  

*** 

What felt like only moments later, Cece's eyes sprang open. She felt disoriented and lost as she squinted in the bright lights. A woman stood above her, holding her wrist as if checking for a pulse. The strange woman didn't seem to notice she was awake yet. 

Blinking a few times to get her bearings, Cece glanced around the room, relieved to see that she was no longer in the strange hut from her dream. Thank God it was just a dream! Instead, she realized she was in a hospital, and despite the fact that she hated hospitals, Cece couldn't help but smile. 

Patrick sat in a chair not far from her, his face in his hand, elbow resting on the chair's arm. She could tell by his body language that he was exhausted and probably hadn't slept since the night before. He was still wearing his suit and red tie, though it looked rumpled from having sat in a waiting chair for so long. 

"Patrick-" Cece croaked, though she felt surprised that her throat felt so dry. She extended her hand, relieved to find her engagement ring still there. 

Patrick's head jerked up, fear and concern swelling his expression before he rushed to her side. The nurse placed her wrist back down and smiled, letting Patrick stand beside Cece's bed. 

"Good morning Miss Marks, or should I say, Mrs. Allmann?" the nurse said with a wink. "I'll let the doctor know you are awake. We'll do a few more tests, but you should be able to go home this afternoon." 

Patrick quietly thanked the nurse as she passed before locking his eyes on Cece. He grasped her outstretched hand and kissed it, relief visibly flooding through him. "I was so worried," he whispered. 

Cece smiled tiredly. Her skin still felt as if it were on fire from a sunburn, but Cece supposed it could be a reaction from some medication she was given. "I had the strangest dream."

 

Patrick threw back his head and laughed. It was a hearty, full laugh that made Cece grin. She was glad to see him again, glad that that strange dream was done with, and glad that she could go home soon.

Previous   Next

A Horrible Dream (Post Seven)

Jack, Beth, and Marla were all three crowded into the kitchen getting ready to throw some food together.  Jack was tearing into the hotdogs while Beth busied herself getting water to boil.  Marla was content to lean against the counter with a bottle of water in hand.  She couldn't stand the taste of well water so she brought her own.  It wasn't long before buns were opened, condiments were pulled out of the fridge, some fries were in the stove, and the dogs were slowly boiling.  A rather generic dinner it was going to be, but it was certainly not horrible.

As everyone busied themselves with anything to keep their attention off watching water boil, they passed around small talk and stories about days-gone-by.  Jack couldn't stop talking about his dream of opening an auto shop in town.  His father had always mused about doing it, wanting to quit his plain day-job to start something of his own.  Jack always humored him but it wasn't until his father passed away that it really became his dream too.  Marla not only supported him, but seemed to drive him.  She knew how important of a dream it is and was determined to help him see it through.  Beth, on the other hand, couldn't care less about cars.  She chimed in with a wistful remembrance of her last Spring Break and this guy that she had spent her time flirting with.  Alcohol and guys had always her thing and it brought many interesting conversations to the table.

"Hey, everything is almost done.  Has anyone seen Sam?"  She had never come to join them in the kitchen.  "Maybe she's out in the sitting room?"  He motioned to the door.  It was possible that she decided the little cooking area was just too crowded and instead picked her book back up.

"I'll go check."  Jack sauntered out of the room to fetch her.  Everyone else began building their dinner.

They waited a minute or so before finally Marla decided to take the first bite.  It wasn't until the first dogs were gone that Beth voiced what was on everyone's mind, "It sure is taking them a long time..."  She huffed and set her plate down.  "I think I'm going to check on them."

All three of them decided to go, crowding their plates onto the counter and filling out of the kitchen into the sitting room.  It was empty.  However, Beth stopped on the landing of the stairs, holding a hand out to stop the others.  "Hey, what is that sound?"  She cocked her head a bit to listen.  The other two followed.  In the silence a faint ticking could be heard.  Not like a clock or something mechanical, but it was a ticking nonetheless.

"I don't know... Maybe it was always there?  These old houses sometimes settle funny."  Marla shrugged as she said this, sounding a little uncertain.  They waited a few seconds, listening to the funny ticking before continuing up the stairs.  Eventually it seemed to fade, the house having returned to silence as they gained the top step.  The hall was empty so the trio continued towards the room with the pink bed.

"Hey, Jack, Sam, what are you two doing?"  Marla took the lead, reaching the door a few steps ahead of everyone.  "The dogs are done.  They're probably cold by now..."  She went in without knocking.  Then there was silence.

"Hey, you tw-"  He turned through the doorway, nearly knocking Marla over in the process.  She had stopped just inside the room, standing there with a slightly awkward silence.  He couldn't see the other two in the open room.

"They're not here."  She continued in, heading towards the closet and crawlspace.  The wooden door was still on the floor where it had been before they left though there was no sign of Jack or Sam.  "What are you two working at?  There's nothing in the stupid space."  Marla ducked her head into the hole in the wall.  "It's so friggin' dark in here, I can't see- Hey!"  She scrambled her way further in.

Allison #1

                "Allison, please!" she heard another cry of pain from behind her. Allison, bone weary and afraid, had long ago lost the feeling of her feet. She had been running from bedside to bedside, trying to help ease the pain of the wounded men. Allison had become their savior, their comfort, their everything in their last gasp of life.

                "Allison, hand me that saw!"

                "Allison, hold down this man!"

                "Allison, help me!"

                Allison could barely remember what it felt like to live in her small, peaceful town. Only a few days ago she had been farming and working her father's land, just as she had done all her life. Until the war came to her very doorstep.

                Men in gray uniforms had overtaken her small home, using it as a makeshift hospital for all the wounded men. Because she was the only female living in the house, she had been told to help. Allison had never nursed a man with a bullet in his arm back to health before, nor had she ever held a dying man in her arms to help comfort him as his eyes lost their spark of life. She felt as if her hands would forever remain red with men's blood.

                Are you here, Allison?

                Shaking her head wearily, Allison ignored the voice. She had heard it a few times before, but the cries of screaming men, moaning, and the general rush of her overtaken home, she knew there was no voice that could be asking such strange questions. Instead, she knew that it was from lack of sleep and her mind was starting to make up voices in order to escape from the hectic scene around her.

                "Stop daydreaming girl and help the doctor out!" a man scolded her as he wrapped a piece of dirty cloth around a man's head. His eyes were bloodshot, as if he too had received no sleep within the last three days.

                Taking a deep breath, Allison gathered her strength and ran over to what once was her family's dining room. They had had a beautiful oak table her grandfather made when her parents got married. It was finely crafted and sturdy, which had made it a perfect choice for the doctor's to operate on. Allison had originally protested against the use of the table, but her protesting was pointless. They were all overwhelmed with the amount of wounded men and any surface that could be spared was being used in trying to help save at least some of the soldiers.

                If you can hear me, let me know somehow.

                Ignoring the voice once more, Allison grabbed a hold of the moaning soldier, pressing hard on his shoulders as she had done what seemed hundreds of times before.

                "Am I gonna be okay?" the man asked her through gritted teeth, his eyes wild with panic and fogged with pain.

                Looking down at his muddied body, she could see that this man was only going to lose his foot and ankle- certainly not the worst wound she had witnessed.

                "What is your name, soldier?" she asked in her quiet voice.

                Did you just hear that!?!

                Frowning, Allison shook her head. The voice was very persistent today, though she supposed it did have to do with just how tired she had suddenly become.

                "My name is Harold Flack, 3rd Virginian Calvary." The man let out a scream as the doctor went to work sawing at the ankle bone without warning.

                Allison only pressed harder on his shoulders to keep the man down, leaning in close to him. "Don't you worry Mr. Flack, I have seen men with worse wounds survive."

                Allison, how did it feel to have doctors operating on your grandfather's table?

                Startled, Allison looked up from the pained man's face to see a group of men standing on the opposite side of her father's table, looking around as if searching for something. They were extremely strange looking, wearing clothing she had never seen worn before. They were also carrying items that shone a strange light and an energy she could not describe.

                "Who are you!" she demanded of them, suddenly very frightened.

                Two of the men holding the strange lights gasped and turned to face in the direction of Allison, but as soon as they turned, they flickered away from her sight.

                The doctor paused in his sawing to look over at Allison. "Are you okay?"

                Feeling more drained than ever, Allison only shook her head. "I think I'm just dizzy from not eating anything today," she murmured to the doctor.

                Allison, you don't have to keep doing this anymore. You are free. Be at rest. There aren't any soldiers needing your help anymore.

                Closing her eyes, Allison willed the voice to just leave her alone. She couldn't take it anymore. There were so many soldiers that needed her help, so many men that needed caring for. How could she ever just leave them?

                Sighing, the doctor waved a bloody hand toward the stairs. "Go and get an hour's rest. I can't have you so unfocused while trying to perform surgeries."

                Allison nodded gratefully and pulled one of the lesser wounded men from the floor to help hold down the man as the doctor finished his surgery.

                Running to what once had been her sewing room, she fell to the ground crying.

                Do you hear that? I think she's crying.

                "Yes fools, I'm crying! Can't you leave me alone!"

                Allison felt angry at the voice. She still didn't know where it was coming from or how to cope with it. Those men were so strange, so frightening with things she had never seen before.

                It had all become too much. She couldn't stand having these men in her home anymore. Her father's beautiful home had turned into a bloody hospital for men that were dying left and right. More and more died every day no matter what she did.

                Feeling the tears stream down her face, Allison knew that she couldn't live like she was any longer.

                Wait dude, wasn't this the time of night when Allison killed herself?

                Pausing, Allison frowned. How could they have known that was what she wanted to do?

                "I don't make a difference in anyone's lives anyways. All these men are going to die whether I am there for them or not."

                I have a letter here, Allison, from a man named Harold Flack. He lost his foot in a battle, and you helped him by talking to him. He said that you were his angel that gave him confidence to fight to live. He wanted to court you, Allison, but you went and killed yourself.

                "How is that possible? I haven't killed myself and Mr. Flack hasn't even finished with his surgery yet!"

                None of the strange voice's words were making sense. It was talking as if she had already died.

                If you can hear me, just let me know. You can move on now. Just open your eyes to the possibility that you've been stuck here and haven't moved on yet. We know you are here.

                Blinking, Allison backed up into the corner of her room, more terrified than ever. She felt she had gone crazy. It didn't make any sense, and yet she felt that she had relived the same last day over and over and over again, replaying in her mind so she could not escape. She had passed it off as if it was just one long nightmare that would eventually end, but now she wasn't so sure.

                "Please, help me, whoever you are."

                She said "help me"!

                Allison, if you can hear me, please just listen. It is the year 2000. It has been over 138 years to the date that you committed suicide. Many say it's because you felt you weren't helping any of those men downstairs and that it was all pointless, but it wasn't pointless. Many of those men survived because of you. Allison, stop torturing yourself.

                Sliding to the ground, Allison let out a few helpless sobs. She felt so confused, and yet it all made so much sense. Maybe she truly was already dead.

                Be at peace, Allison, be at peace.

                Taking a deep breath, Allison closed her eyes. She let go of everything around her- her home, all the men downstairs, the blood, the cries, the groans, all the memories she's ever had, and even the vague memory of herself taking a knife to her throat.

                "You're right. I need to move on."

A Horrible Dream (Post Six)

It was hard to see, what with everyone crowding around the small object, but eventually he was able to find a spot over Sam's shoulder to get a peak.  The thing was dark.  Very dark.  So black that it seemed to suck up any light around it.  Two tiny purple specks shined out of the murky lump like eyes in the night.  He could see what looked like arms carved in to it that curled around its sides to cradle what could have been a belly.  Besides that, there was little detail to the thing.  Most of it seemed to be covered in rough chisel marks.  It looked like a half-finished carving of something, but what it was supposed to be was a mystery.

It made him shiver to stare at it for too long.  However, it had this mesmerizing sense about it, like nothing he had ever seen before.  Apparently Marla felt the same way.  She had already turned and was busying herself with picking cobwebs off her jeans, every once in a while stealing a glance back at it.  Beth was chewing her lip, her eyes darting around the room but always coming back to the strange lump.  She seemed nervous.

"Well, I'm going back down stairs.  I want my beer."  Jack yawned and scratched his head, taking one more long look before making his way to the door.  Hesitation followed him, and he turned more than once before leaving the room.  Marla was quick to follow him.

Sam seemed to be the only one who could stand to stare at it.  She seemed lost, sucked in to those purple orbs.  She didn't even look up when Jack made his announcement.  Goosebumps prickled her skin and her breathing seemed shallow.  Every once in a while she seemed to mouth something but no sounds left her.

"Sam?... Sam?"  It took a nudge on the shoulder to pull her from her thoughts.

"Wh-what?"  She turned and blinked like a light had just been turned on.  "I must have zoned out..." She looked back at the statue, rubbing her arms like she was cold.  This time it didn't seem to grab her.  Instead she turned quickly, visibly uncomfortable.  "I've never seen that thing before.  I wonder how it got in there.  I don't think grandma or grandpa knew how to carve and it wasn't like them to collect stuff like that... Heh, that certainly doesn't remind me of 1950's style!"  She chuckled nervously, staring at the thing out of the corner of her eye.  "I... I think I should take this home with us and see if mom knows anything about it."

"Alright, well I'm heading back downstairs to see what Marla and Jack are up to.  He might be passed out on the floor again by now..."  He smiled at her before continuing, "Besides, I'm hungry.  I think it's time to get those hotdogs cooking."  Beth perked up at that.

"Yeah... Now that I think about it, I'm pretty hungry too."  Sam rubbed her stomach.  "Go get it started and I'll meet you down there.  You know where everything is at, right?"  She smiled at his nod.  "Great.  Just give me a second and I'll be there.  I have to put that door back in."  She motioned to the opening for the crawlspace.

"I can get that if yo-"

She waved him away.  "Nah, it's a little tricky to get in there right.  Never did fit well.  It'll just take me a second."

He nodded and smiled again.  "As you wish."  He loved throwing that line into conversations whenever possible.  Taking one last look around, he turned for the door and the stairs beyond.  Beth was right behind him.

"That thing was so creepy."  Her voice was hushed and she kept glancing behind her like they were being followed.  "I don't know what it was, but it just felt so strange to stare at it.  It made my skin crawl"  She seemed to shudder with the memory.

"Yeah, that thing is a little creepy, isn't it?  I don't really think it's anything though.  It just looks like a project that someone forgot about.  People make creepy stuff all the time."  He absentmindedly rubbed at the tender lump on his head as they walked, wincing every now and then.  "Man, I really took a good hit thanks to you..."

Beth frowned at him.  "You don't have to rub it in, you know.  Maybe if you weren't so easily spooked it wouldn't have happened."

"You mean, maybe if YOU weren't so easily spooked."   He gave her a sarcastic smile with a sidelong glance.  She huffed and hurried down the stairs before him, leaving him in the hallway alone.

He noticed how eerily quiet it was all of a sudden.  The rain must have stopped.  Taking a quick moment at the top of the stairs, his eyes fell on the door to the bedroom where they had left Sam.  She must have already fitted the door for there wasn't a single sound coming from the room.  It crossed his mind to wait for her but after a few seconds he got impatient.  His stomach was talking to him and telling him that Sam could fend for herself; sustenance was more important.  With a shrug he turned and headed down the stairs.

A Shot Rang Out at Midnight

A shot rang out at midnight, silver smoke rising from the barrel toward a crescent moon. A man dressed in black ran along the river’s bank to a place he thought was safe, to friends he thought he could trust. In the morning he was face down in the river, floating toward somewhere else his presence was unwelcome.

***

Nathaniel Hall rubbed his eyes against the bright spotlight. “Hey keep that thing off me” he said, his voice laden with the grogginess that comes with being woken up at three o’clock in the morning by a cranky night operator. “Body in the Wash. Factory off Main Street.” They didn’t get too personal on the night shift. Everyone knew that the night shift was where they put people who screwed up. And if you happened to be the night shift manager, well, that meant they felt sorry for you. Right then, though, Hall didn’t care too much about night mangers, operators, or even sleep. He had made it to the edge of the Black River, the Wash as the operator had put it, and was staring at a man face down on the bank. One spotlight was directed on the man while crime scene investigators flashed photos, collected various items into bags, and snatched up the coffee being brought to the scene. Catching sight of police chief Rowlands, Hall caught his arm. 

“I just got here, what’s going on?” 

The Chief pointed to man in a shabby brown jacket and newsboy cap. “Man came out for a smoke, flicked the ashes into the river and saw they didn’t go out. Went to take a look, and realized they landed on this poor fellow. No ID as of yet, but we’ve only been here a half hour. Still waiting for the coroner, actually. Old man is getting harder and harder to get out of bed.” 

“I resent that statement, Will.” A red mop of hair streaked with gray bobbed past them, the face attached to it grinning with a brightness in his eye that could not be found in any other present. Rowlands and Hall followed the older man toward the body. 

“Dr. Hopkins, welcome to the scene.” 

“I trust this man was not moved,” he said, not turning toward the Chief. 

“When the first officers arrived, they pulled him up just out of the water so he wouldn’t float away, but that was all.” 

“Hm.” 

As the flashing of bulbs continued around them, the doctor knelt down next to the body, the other two men remaining silent. The dead man was dressed in a gray suit, like something out of an old gangster movie, not slick, but certainly not sloppy. Opening the jacket of the suit to insert the liver thermometer, the doctor released an “oh” and retreated his hand. At first appearance, the shirt had looked white, if slightly muddy. But underneath the jacket it was stained red with dozens of holes piercing the cloth and body from a knife. “Looks like we’re not going to have a quiet week, boys,” the doctor said. 

“What was your first clue?” Hall mumbled.

***

Nathaniel Hall opened the door to his apartment six hours later. He had left the scene after two hours, having questioned the witness himself and taken a few snapshots for his own reference. After drawing up his initial reports in his office he had driven home, a slight drizzle beginning to fall. Staggering through the hallway to his bedroom, Hall threw his hat onto the dresser in the corner and sat down on the edge of the bed. He ran his fingers through his course brown hair, thinking that he should maybe get a haircut in the next couple of days. He laid down, resting his head on the headboard, his thoughts turning to the dead man they had pulled from the water.

The town of Gumption, Ohio was not large by any standards, and though it was just large enough that everybody didn’t know everybody in town, the fact that the man had no ID as of yet concerned Nathaniel. It was likely that he was a stranger, which meant one of three things. He was just passing through, he was visiting a relative, or perhaps he was on the run. They had put his face out on the news, and no calls had come in of yet, but it was still early. The other two possibilities seemed equally likely possibilities, though if he had been just passing through, why was he killed, and why so violently?

Hall closed his eyes, hoping to get just a few hours rest before going back to work on the case. As he was about to pass over into sleep, the phone on his bedside table rang. He arose with a groan, grabbing the phone with a clumsy answer of “Yes, what is it?” 

“We just got a call in,” the voice of another detective, Matt Harris came through the line. “His name is Paul Griffith. He came into town yesterday to stay with a couple of friends. I wouldn’t like friends like these, though. You better come in and hear this, Nate.” 

“I’ll be there in ten, Matt. Thanks.” He hung up the phone, rubbing his eyes for what seemed the hundredth time that morning.

Walking into the station, Hall noticed immediately the change from when he had left earlier. Before people had been walking about, waiting for results from autopsy or a phone to ring, a few checking computers for references to the man who had been murdered. Now everyone seemed to be on the phone or on the computer, frantically searching through files and old records being brought up out of the vaults. Hall made his way over to Harris, the man who had called him. 

“Hey what’s going on, we get a lead from these friends of his?” 

“Did we get a lead? Nate, our little town of Gumption, Ohio might just being going down in history in the next couple of days!” Nathaniel stared at the man in front of him, an expression of doubt and concern on his face.

Closed Eyes - 5

Cece was taken aback at the woman's tone. "I didn't want to be naked in front of so many people! I woke up this way and haven't exactly been given a chance to find anything to wear considering the warm welcome I've been receiving." It was Cece's turn to be indignant, though she wasn't sure why she had to defend herself to a made-up dream woman.

Loyie only smiled. "So you do have some fight in you. Come, sit in the middle of that rug and think of something pleasant."

Frowning, Cece could only stare at Loyie for a moment. It seemed like such an odd request, but she supposed that nothing about this dream was normal. Absolutely nothing.

Loyie waved Cece away, as if shooing her to the rug. The small woman then turned and headed toward a shelf on the opposite wall and started rifling through the many jars. They clinked together as she moved them, picking some up before putting them back down again when it apparently wasn't the jar she was looking for.

Sighing, Cece moved toward the strange looking rug. The outside ring was a bright yellow with black symbols weaved into it in a pattern Cece couldn't grasp. The next ring was a vibrant purple in a checkered pattern with the alternating squares filled in with the bright yellow color. The last ring was the smallest ring. It was black with tiny white spots that reminded Cece of the night sky. It certainly was an ugly rug, but she supposed that it probably meant something to Loyie.

Stepping onto the rug sent a shiver down Cece's spine. She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand, as if her body was suddenly charged with electricity. It didn't hurt, but it didn't make her feel comfortable, either.

She slowly sat in the middle, bringing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around her battered legs. They had tiny cuts all over them from the blades of grass and her sunburn only intensified the pain she was feeling.

"Stop concentrating on the pain," Loyie's voice said, interrupting Cece's thoughts. "I said think of something pleasant."

Cece rolled her eyes, though felt unnerved at how well Loyie was able to read her. Duh! This is my dream and everyone is in my mind, so of course they can read me like a book!

Feeling slightly relieved at the thought, Cece glanced over at Bramaad. The prince was digging through a few jars, opening the lids and smelling its contents before finally choosing one. He had water already heating up on the small stove and had three simple clay cups set out on the only empty shelf available. He kept glancing in her direction, but his eyes never settled on her for longer than a few moments.

Pleasant thoughts? I think I can do that… Cece watched the prince's back, letting her eyes take in his muscular form. He truly was a very good looking man, though his personality certainly was a disappointment and a total turn-off. At least Patrick has that body and a much better personality! she thought, eyeing the prince and comparing the two in her mind.

She let her thoughts wander to Patrick. She could just imagine his concern at her passing out. She felt terrible for having done it during an important event of his, but there was nothing she could have done. Had Cece not driven through the night, she would have missed the dinner entirely. I guess only being there for a few moments doesn't count, either…

Cece was startled when she realized Loyie was crouching just outside the rug. "Here, put some of this on the worst of your burns. It'll help ease the pain a bit. Once it's dry, you may put on this dress," she said, holding out a dress similar in style and pattern to the one Loyie was currently wearing. In her other hand, Loyie was holding  a small jar filled with a green cream that smelled like fresh herbs.

Gratefully, Cece reached forward and grabbed the two items from Loyie. She uncapped the jar, setting the lid carefully beside her. She then used a finger to gingerly touch the cream, unsure of its contents and what exactly it would do.

Shrugging to herself, she applied a small amount of the cream to her leg. She yelped as it burned intensely for a few moments, then suddenly cooled against her skin. She glanced up questioningly to Loyie, but the woman was now over by the stove with Bramaad, their heads together and whispering intently.

Carefully, Cece applied more of the cream to her leg, wincing for the few moments it burned, then sighing in relief when it finally cooled down. When she fully applied it to one leg, nearly half the cream was gone,  but it felt much better than it had before.

Looking down at her burned body, Cece decided to apply the rest of the cream to the most sensitive areas first. She used a small amount on her other leg, then used the rest on the top of her back, stomach, chest, and face. She wasn't too concerned about anywhere else, knowing that she would be awake before too long and would finally stop feeling the intense pain. However, she was thankful for the cream while she was in her dreaming state.

Slowly standing after the cream had all dried, Cece pulled the dress over her head and tugged it down her body. She winced slightly, feeling every fiber scratch against her sensitive skin, but ignored the sensation as best she could. The dress fit poorly on her. It was too tight across the waist and she felt as if she were going to pop out of the top of the dress, the sensible square-cut neckline on Loyie looking scandalous on Cece. The dress was also too short, the hem hitting a few inches above her ankle. However, Cece felt better finally having some clothing on, even if it was ill-fitting. Ugh, this dress probably makes me look so fat!

Cece couldn't help but look over at Loyie's small frame, noticing how tiny the woman was compared to herself. At least I have more curves than her.

Trying to smooth the dress better over her hips, Cece stepped off the rug, once again feeling the electric charge run through her body as her feet slapped against the hard-packed ground. "I feel much better, thank you Loyie," she said. She still had to say the woman's name carefully, though the strange name seemed less foreign on her tongue.

Loyie smiled. "Yes, I can see there is much less pain in your eyes than there was before. Come, sit with me in the rocking chairs." She turned to Bramaad and grabbed the two steaming cups of tea before handing Cece one of them. "Bramaad, if you have other things to do, please do them. Cece is not going to harm me in my own home."

 

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A Horrible Dream (Post Five)

Suddenly the door flew open and Sam came rushing out to scare him "BOO!"  He nearly fell flat on his face in his haste to get out of the way.  Sam's tackle took him the rest of the way down.  She rolled off him on to the floor, nearly suffocating from her laughter.

He put a hand on his chest in the hopes that it would help steady his breathing and propped himself up on his elbows.  "What the hell was that about!?  You nearly scared me to death!"  He glared at Sam as she rolled on the floor stammering about the expression on his face between peals of laughter and gulps of air.  The rest of the group was just now starting to emerge, all of them a little misty-eyed from containing their own laughter.  Jack was the last one out.

"Jack, how could you?  I thought we were a team!  That's like the lowest of the low.  You're nothing more than a dirty turn-coat!"  He wiped some dust off his shirt and glared at Jack who just laughed in return.

"Sorry, man, but I just had to have in on this one.  Besides, maybe I'm only just pretending to be friendly with the ladies."  He grinned and poked at Marla.  She turned and slapped him.  "OW!"  He rubbed at the red hand mark on his shoulder.  Marla huffed at him.

It was Sam's turn to chime in: "Jack, you're not that clever."  She was sitting on the floor now, feet folded under her hips, and fiddling with one of her earrings that came loose in the tussle.  Her jeans were covered in dust and cob-webs, a few of the strands also floating around in her hair.  In fact, everyone was dusty and ruffled.

"I didn't know that there was a crawlspace in here.  Is there anything neat in there?"  He crawled past the group and towards the little door, peering into the dark.

"Nah, just some dust, cobwebs, and more dust.  At least I didn't see anything else in there... It is pretty dark, though."  It was Jack, still rubbing absentmindedly at his shoulder.  He had moved off to the side of the room and was leaning against the wall.  He already looked tired again.  He always seemed to be tired.

"Well, I'm bored and I want to check it out."  He shuffled his way inside, making sure not to bump his head on the rafters.  The drum of the rain was enhanced since there was little more than some plywood and a few layers of shingles between him and the wet outside world.  That combined with the dark made for a disorienting space.  He felt like things were moving around him, their presence masked by the constant pattering.  A quick shudder ran down his spine, his over active imagination flashing images in his mind before he could rein it in and push them away.  The space was low and narrow, not even tall enough for him to get on his knees without hitting his head, but ran the length of the cabin.  At both ends there was a vent to help with circulation, but besides that, there was no other opening except the little door he just went through.

Beth slipped in behind him, never one to miss out on a little bit of exploration.  "So, yeah... It's a crawlspace, alright."  He chuckled a bit while trying to squeeze past her to get a better look at one end.  Something caught his eye.

"Hey, what's that?"  He pointed at it as he moved, despite the fact that there was no way for Beth to see past him.  There was a tiny purple glint winking at him just under one of the vents.  He hadn't noticed it at first, but now that his eyes had adjusted it was definitely there.  The shudder passed through him again but he just brushed it aside.  "Hey, Sam, what is this?  There's something shiny and purple back here."

"I have no clue.  I haven't been in that space in years.  Bring it out here so we can see it."  Sam's shout was muffled through the walls.  There wouldn't be enough room for her to see it if she had followed them in, anyways.

He continued crawling his way towards it, being careful to rest his hands and knees on the ceiling joists.  He didn't want to accidentally put his foot through the ceiling of the cabin: Sam's parents were reluctant enough about letting them come.  He didn't want to give them justification.  As he approached it he could make out a small, dark shape poking out of the insulation, the little purple glint nestled towards one side, almost buried in the fuzzy paper mass.  He reached out, just about to touch it when suddenly Beth screamed.

Recoiling, he pulled back and up, smacking the top of his head squarely into one of the solid wood rafters.  "Ah, fuck!"  He flinched back and covered his head with his hands, feeling to see if he was bleeding.  So far he wasn't.  His vision wobbled for a second or two.  "Shit, shit, shit, shit..."  He was muttering under his breath, trying to collect his senses.

Marla came rushing in, "Beth, are you alright?  What the heck happened?"  He could hear a clamor from outside as Sam and Jack came to huddle around the door.

"I'm fine... I think... I think a spider just ran across my hand.  I felt it.  It was terrible!"  He voice was layered in disgust.

"Pft, come on.  What did you expect?  There are probably thousands of spiders in here."  Marla was never one to be very sympathetic.  "Come on out, I think you've had enough exploring for one night... Hey, what did you find over there?"  She was calling to him now.

"I... I don't know.  Just let me get my head to stop spinning.  I bumped it when Beth screamed.  Fuck it hurts."  He continued rubbing the sore knob slowly rising from the back of his head.  Still squinting through tears, he quickly reached out and grabbed the thing before backing his way to the door.  Whatever it is made out of was cold and rough like stone but he couldn't make out any shapes.  It was unusually heavy for its size.  Once out he hastily thumped it on the floor before sitting back against the wall in the closet, returning to rubbing his throbbing head.

Beth was by his side quickly, pulling his head gently forward to check where he had hit it.  "I'm so, so sorry... I really am."  She was sifting through his hair now, looking for cuts.  "I don't see any blood but you're going to have a really nasty lump up there."  He winced as she probed, despite how careful she was being.  She sat down beside him and hugged him, resting her head on his shoulder.  "I'm sorry."

"I'm fine, I really am."  He gave his sore noggin one more gentle rub for good measure before taking a deep breath and leaning back against the wall.  Beth had always been very protective of her friends, sometimes overreacting over small things.  He would be lying if he said he minded right now.

"Hey you two, come look at this thing.  It's crazy."  Sam sounded confused as she called to them.  She and the other two were huddled around whatever it was that he had pulled out from the crawl space.  Patting Beth on the back, he got up to go see what it was.

Closed Eyes - 4

Cece rolled her eyes and glared at Bramaad, her temper rising. "I'm not even wearing any clothes and you think I am going to bring death? I don't know where I am, who any of you are… you all must be really crappy with your defenses if you think I'm going to bring you death."

Normally Cece was a very calm person, but listening to all the absurd comments of her bringing death and the fact that her entire body was sunburned, her legs and feet were burning from the sharp grass and rocks, all made her extremely irritable. This is just a damn dream!

Bramaad only growled under his breath as he dragged her on. They made a half circle around the outskirts of the village until he made it to a less traversed path. He glanced behind him over the top of Cece's head as if to make sure no one noticed them before yanking her quickly down the path.

Cece yelped in surprise at the sudden movement, nearly falling and having to jog to keep up with him. Being a head taller than Cece, his strides were much longer than hers and he did not try to make sure she was able to keep up. She supposed Bramaad thought that by him holding onto her arm that there was no way that she would fall.

After a short distance, Bramaad veered off to the right, off the path and through a thicket of trees. The branches didn't even catch on his light clothing or bow, but seemed to whip and catch against her bare skin. Her eyes watered with pain, and her frustration only increased.

Finally Bramaad stopped in front of a small mud hut. It looked as if it had been there the longest out of all the ones she had seen in the village, but Cece supposed that this didn't mean anything. There were no trees towering even within close proximity to the hut, which could cause more weather wearing on the structure than the others.

Bramaad dragged Cece to the hut's door and knocked loudly, then yelled, "Loyie, this is Prince Bramaad. I need to speak with you!" He knocked again, more impatiently, as if this Loyie character were to take any longer to answer the door, Cece would spring loose and destroy the whole little village.

There was a long pause before a young woman opened the door. She was much shorter than Cece's 5 foot 7, which only added to her youthful appearance. If Cece didn't know any better, she would have guessed the small woman could have been no older than 16 years. Her hair was cut extremely close to her skull and looked to be the color of the sun, it shone so brightly. Loyie was bone-thin and the dress she wore seemed to have gotten too big for her frame.

"I've been waiting," Loyie said, not even looking surprised at seeing the prince grasping the arm of a lobster-skinned, naked woman. The woman only glanced at Cece before retreating back into the small hut, allowing the pair to enter.

Bramaad quickly shut the door behind him, but he never let Cece out of his grasp. Cece glared at him, trying to once again yank her arm free from him, but with no luck. If Patrick were here, he'd make sure you never touched me again! she couldn't help but think, shooting her thoughts at the prince. She longed for Patrick's protective arms and his cool cop head. He'd be able to get her out of this situation. If only I had control over this dream!

"Let her go, Bramaad. She can do nothing to us at this point," Loyie said softly, her pale blue eyes gentle but stern, proving she was serious.

"You don't understand, Loyie. Jeroff found her in the water," the prince protested as he took a step closer to the small woman and pulled Cece's arm along with him.

"Yes, and he was a fool for not bringing a weapon with him this morning, but he did it anyway." Loyie's calm tone did not change, but her expression was that of a concerned mother watching her child. "And he did not find her in the water. He found her legs in the water. That does not make her who you think she is."

Loyie's words clearly did not calm the prince because Bramaad seemed to only grip her arm harder. Cece winced at the pressure, wishing he would just listen to Loyie. Cece was surprised that the small woman could talk to a prince that way, but was relieved that someone could and would hopefully get through to the stubborn man's head. She had no idea how the small woman already knew this information, but decided not to question the small woman just yet.

"I will talk to Jeroff about his mistakes, but you cannot tell me that this isn't suspicious to you at all!" Bramaad was furious, his chiseled face set like strong stone.

Loyie only smiled and made a wide gesture, making Cece take in the contents of the room. There was only enough seating for two, and over the hard dirt packed floor was a small, circular rug with strange colorful markings that held the space between the two wooden rocking chairs. In the corner of the room was a small wooden stove and a large clay pot that was meant to hold water or to make stew from. The walls held shelf after shelf of strange items, some of them in jars, others of them taking up half the shelf by itself. She had no idea what any of it meant, but she supposed her subconscious mind thought that all the items meant something to a strange woman like Loyie.

"And none of this is suspicious to the normal, naïve eye?" she asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.

Bramaad only sighed and slowly let go of Cece's arm. She took a step away from the prince and rubbed her arm, wincing at the intense pain. There was a clear red hand marked there, even brighter than her sunburn. Bramaad only crossed his arms across his chest and glared at Cece. He looked ready to lunge at her any moment.

How pathetic and paranoid is he? Cece couldn't help but feel slightly amused. She looked ridiculous, but apparently something had gotten his underwear in a bunch to make him look beyond her appearance and assume she was some kind of threat. Such a strange dream!

"Now," Loyie began, turning to look at Cece and ignoring the grim prince, "I am Loyie, a Watcher and Guardian of the Prophecy, someone who can see times that are Now and will come to Pass." Loyie paused, waiting for Cece to take in the introduction. "Not that this means anything to you, but it will be important to you in time."

The woman smiled warmly. Her golden hair seemed to glow in the dim light of the hut, making her seem even more friendly. She seemed much younger than Cece's 27 years, but at the same time she seemed so much older. Those eyes are so intense! Cece felt like her soul was being weighed by an ancient amount of wisdom from those pale blue eyes.

"I'm Cece," she finally replied when Loyie seemed to be waiting for a return introduction. "Cece Marks, though soon I'll be married to Patrick Allmann, so my name will change," she finished awkwardly. She clasped her hands in front of her, suddenly feeling very nervous in the woman's presence. She felt very awkward and out of place.

"Prince Bramaad, will you make us some tea? You know where the herbs are. Cece and I need some time to talk," Loyie said, turning slightly toward the scowling Bramaad. Her use of his title seemed more of an insult than anything, but the prince said nothing as he stalked past Cece toward the little stove. "And take that bow off your back," Loyie commanded. "You look ridiculous wearing that weapon in here. You know you are safer here than your own guarded chambers!"

Bramaad turned and glared at Loyie, his bright green eyes piercing as he slowly took the bow and quiver from his back and carefully placed it against the wall. Cece was surprised he didn't protest or yell at Loyie for treating a prince in such a way, but he said nothing. Maybe he's in love with her and knows better than to upset his girlfriend!

Nearly laughing at her own private thoughts, she stopped short when she realized Loyie was staring intently at Cece.

"He listens to me because I am wiser than he, and he knows it," Loyie said, as if responding to her thoughts.

Cece blushed. "I'm sorry, I just thought-"

"Thinking and knowing are two different things, child. Now, it's time to get you cleaned up so you can put something decent on. Being free of clothing is only liberating for so long before people start getting sick of seeing you in such a crude way."

 

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