Met Up With Her Past

Rook tied her deep red, pin-straight hair back into a floppy bun and slipped on a grey newsboy. She pulled on her denim jacket over white shirt, which under she always wore a chainmail vest ever since that one night a few years ago, and grabbed her bag.

She walked out of the small stone house, that had been built for her specifically, and a cold wind and a soft rain met her on her front steps. Smiling, she jumped down the steps into the damp dirt, squelching between her cold toes as she did so.

From her house to the small town she considered herself to live in, she had to take a rather lengthy dirt road to the outskirts of the town.

The rain gradually fell harder as it came down upon the road. She ended up racing through it, splattering mud everywhere and holding her bag behind her as she did so.

Just past the small hill she could see a few meters a head of her, she could spot the faint outlines of the first buildings through the tumbling rain. She pushed herself faster, and the mud flew up, decorating her bare legs. Rook regretted wearing her new shorts in the same instant.

Rook jumped over the small mound of dirt, and the buildings began to race at her as she sprinted through the icy rain.

The small town was quiet and nearly empty; the rest of the inhabitants out and about on the cobblestone street ran into nearby buildings, their bags over their heads shielding them from the rain. Rook ducted into an alley with an overhang and sat on the damp stone ground. She slung her bag across her chest and wrung out her hat.

A map of the town appeared in her head. Just a few blocks over was an inn she could stay in whilst the storm passed. There was a long couch by a wide window she could sit on and watch the storm.

She stood and kicked a crumpled piece of paper at her foot. Rook ambled out onto the stone road and hurried down to the next overhang she could see. She scouted for another whilst beneath it, and then sprinted to the next.

The inn was quiet, except for the clanking of dishes being washed and the fire crackling in the grand fireplace. The heavy rain pounded on the roof, and whispers of quiet conversations floated around in the misty air.

Rook pulled her denim jacket tighter around her thin frame and shuffled across the hardwood floor to the couch by the screen window. She kicked the dirt off her feet, pushed it beneath the couch through the small gap between the floor and the bottom, and leapt up.

A cold wind raced through the town, rattling the screen on the window. Rook flinched, but, ignoring the cold, laid down on the cushioned couch, using her arms as pillows. She lay on her side, watching the small movement of the room.

Through the thick wood door, a man walked in. He was clearly a traveler, judging by his appearance. He wore a rugged trench jacket and worn out boots with his dirty pants tucked into them.

To Rook, he looked very familiar. Then, her side began to sting. Her mind began to evolve into images of the one night where she had met him. They grew more prominent and she was sucked into the memory she was trying to run from.

It was a dark night. Rook had been walking home through the streets from a night at her favorite restaurant. Some people were still about the stone streets, so Rook still wondered why it had be her. She had cut through an alley which was the shortest route to the dirt road that lead to her house. She made sure it was safe before she ventured into the darkness.

She didn’t hear him approach. She didn’t smell the cologne she could still smell that was blowing at her.

Suddenly, she had been pushed to the ground; tackled, more like it. She was flipped onto her back, and slapped repeatedly on her cheek. Then, pulled up in a standing position, pushed against the wall, and punched several times in the stomach. She felt, then, a blade biting through her hoodie and shirt, and into her side. It went deeper, and the farther it went, the more her attacker laughed hysterically.

Rook had made an effort to pull it out, and after a few tries, ended up yanking it out. It clattered to the ground. She pushed the man away, and clutching her side, she raced the way she had come, leaving her attacker shouting profanities at her.

The memory dimmed, only leaving the senses she felt then. The smell of his cologne hit her and Rook hid her face away from the man. She immediately, after feeling the piercing blade in her side once again, her fingers flew to make sure her vest was still beneath her shirt.

She breathed a sigh of relief, but bit her tongue after and glanced up at the man. He had heard it, for the inn was too quiet. He walked forward a few steps, snorted, then continued to the stairs, then disappeared up them.

Rook leapt off the couch without thinking and raced outside into the pouring rain, away from the possible reoccurrence

Reviews

[joshua deathdealer]

Wow..This is very interesting. Perfect imagery gracing a thought provoking write. Well done.