500 Years old

The chilly October wind whipped her hair out of the twist, the long black threads blew in the wind. A chill went down her spine. A simple thought entered her mind, something is coming, making her stomach clinch. A figure appeared across the street and she pulled the cape around her like a shield. Tall and dark, hidden in the shadows, he appeared to be tracking her scent with his movements. Like a cat, he slunk through the shadows, hunting her. Her heart pounded in her ears. She heard her name whispered on the wind.

“Majesta…Majesta…” It kept whispering her name. Each time the name sounded, she quivered. A hand on her arm brought her heart to her throat, cutting off her scream. Fear paralyzed her when she looked around, finding emptiness. The corset squeezed her torso, making it hard to breath. The cloak she wore clung to her drenched frame. Majesta's long hip hugging skirts showed more of her full figure than she really had intended. Was this how the women felt in the old days, like a drowned rat? The rain was supposed to hold off until tomorrow, but it was her luck for it to start tonight.

A hand touched her shoulder and her heart nearly burst out of her chest. The man that had once been across the street was gone, now standing in front of her. Dreams were one thing; she could wake up and it would be over. This was real life and he could kill her. Fingers moved to her hair and she shivered from his cold caress. Fog moved into the city, winding around her. The wind whipped her raven locks around her face.

The stinging pain brought her back to reality, she knew she needed to run, but still her feet were riveted to the ground. In those first moments with him this close, Majesta knew he would take something from her and give something she didn’t really want. It was just as they said in the bible. The devil has a forked tongue and it will tempt you with honey. She never thought she would give into the devil, but when he looked like this, you were doomed from the start. The man stood at least six foot two, with board shoulders and a slim waist. Majesta could imagine his waist being more like a V that lead to dusty hair and... Majesta shook her head to clear the image. His tall stature gave little away about his age, although the clothing he was wearing hinted at another era.

Majesta was dressed like a peasant girl but it was Halloween and she had been at a party with friends. It was the part she had chosen to play. His trousers stopped at mid-calf, the shirt was white and hugged his broad chest. The long sleeves had billowing ends, which cupped his hands, like a lover. His shirt opened slightly to show a small section of his chest. Brown curly hair peeked out, beckoning a woman’s touch.

The urge to touch this man was overpowering and her hand started to move toward him. With a jerk she pulled her hand back, looking at him, afraid of what it was he wanted.

“I think you know.” His voice was like a summer breeze as it caressed her skin. Majesta wanted nothing more than to listen to him speak. His Irish brogue seemed to soothe her even as her alarm grew. All she could do was shake her head no at the man. She really had no idea… Or did she? It was so confusing to be standing here, her body seemingly unwilling to follow her brain’s command to flee. His hand on her neck gave her a rush that was weird and a bit frightening. His cold hand warmed as he touched her, and she wondered if he was stealing her soul right then. She knew he wasn’t; he was just taking the warmth from her skin. The pleasure on his face told her that he wasn’t accustomed to having warmth in his body. After a few moments she started to get her wits back and pulled away from the man.

“What do you want?” Majesta started her words wavered as she spoke, showing how scared her was. “I don’t know who you are. Or what you want from me.”

That smile that appeared on his face sent fear racing through her spine. It was bad enough to stand there looking at this man and knowing that she wanted more than just a kiss. The thought didn’t seem to be her own. It shocked her, because it wasn’t something she would think about a stranger. Her body wanted him in other ways as well. Nothing she could really do about that at this point, the bigger issue here was that she needed to get away from him. Mind and body seemed to be on different pages here. She finally moved her feet and started to back away. With a move she couldn’t see he was behind her, Majesta's body ran right into his. It was like hitting a brick wall.

“Oh now, lassie, you know what it is I’m wanting,” Craven told her, his lips touching her ear lightly.

She shook her head at the man then tried to move away from him again, but he wrapped his arms around her. The next thing she knew they appeared in a windowless stone room. The warmth from a fire surprised her as she felt her knees give out. She had the sensation of falling without falling. Her body went limp in his arms. Craven carried her to the large bed. Darkness hugged her on all sides, and she didn’t know if she wanted to be in this room alone with this man. Majesta struggled to keep her eyes open to look around. A few things caught her eye like the room was straight out of a knight’s tale movie. The walls were large stone, with no space to let light in. A large fireplace was on one wall with a large mantel hovering over the open pit. On the mantel sat a very old clock and pictures and paintings from different eras. Black and white and then going into color; they showed the same man over and over. This brought back the fear that this man wasn’t human.

The room started to go black again, cool hard hands had laid her in a bed larger than her king-sized bed at home. Majesta didn’t recall how she had gotten there, her mind a blank. Moments seemed to blur when she looked up to see a man sitting on the edge of the bed looking down at her.

“You have finally returned to me.” Craven whispered into her neck.

“What in the world at your talking about?” Majesta looked terrified as the man talked to her.

“You shall find out, Lassie.” Craven told her with an evil smile on his face.

“No, you will take me home. I have things to do.” Majesta tried to move but couldn’t. Her mind told her she was tied to the bed, but when she looked, she wasn’t. Terror was building in her mind. “Why can’t I move?”

“I don’t want you to.” Craven could make her believe anything, his eyes could keep her enthralled.

“That doesn’t make sense!” It was a scream that echoed back to her.

“Memories will return, I am sure.” With that, he stood to leave.

She could hear his shoes echoing as he walked out of the room. It pissed her off that he left her on the bed like this. Why would he do this to her? She wasn’t anything special. Just a bookstore own who loved to read.