Short Work in Progress

Here is a short story that came to mind today. I am going to write it raw and polish it as time goes, and if you can think of anything to add, feel free to post.

Jenn reached for the side of the bed. Her back arched painfully as a scream tore from her throat. The rugs covering her lay on the floor. Sweet poured from her body, despite the chill of the tower. She hovered on the edge of consciousness for a moment before she slowly returned to sanity. Again, it happened again.

She rose and splashed water on her face. The fire blazed in the hearth. Its heat did not reach her. Jenn shuddered as she thought about her future. Tomorrow, she would wed, and surely, within a week she would die. The maiden of Kelora, now the witch of the tower. If the reformists did not burn her as a witch, the superstitious of the Scot would demand her death. She rose and went to the window. The herbs and wood remained strewn across the sill, mute testament to what the commoners thought of her. Useless herbs, how she wished their potency was real, to protect the outside from her 'evil eye' and to protect her from the demons who haunted her nightly.

The one proud Heiress to all the McLeod Clann owned, a suitable bride for the King's son. Not now. Below the muffled sound of wood against stone, the sounds of the tower, were the only testament that she was alone. Alone, the result of the recurring dream. The nightmare where she stood at an alter, in a wedding dress covered in blood, and no earthly groom.

Jenn held her breath. Something was amiss. Her ears strained to hear, soft footfalls. Who dared approach her chamber at night? All she knew feared her, especially when the evil was upon her. A creak broke her thoughts, there was someone out there.

She raced to the bed, pulled a rug around her, and prayed that the creature beyond the walls breathed the cold night air. The door opened slowly, light flooded the room hiding the intruder from her sight.

"Milady? . . . Milady MacLeod."

A gasp escaped her throat and the lamp swung toward her.

"Milady MacLeod, we ha come for thee. Here is my cloak. There is no time."

Strong arms wrapped a cloak around her and lifted her from the bed as if she weighed nothing. The strong scent of leather and horse blocked out the putrid odors of the tower.

"My father will pay no ransom."

"Nay, Milady, you will come to no harm. There are some who do not feel a maiden should drown on the belief that she is a witch."

"Who are you."

A cold draft rushed up the tower stairs stealing her breath. The light reflected off the wall, and back on her rescuer.

"Hugh?"

"Aye, Milady."

"I do not understand. Why steal me away the night before our wedding."

A low chuckle rumbled through the chest of her betrothed, "I wish to live Milady, and if we are wed, and your vision is true, I will die before the sun sets. This way I will sleep tomorrow night with two things I desire."

Jenn lifted her face to see if he jested. His jaw still held the hardness she remembered seeing in him as a child. His eyes remained hidden. "What two things would that be Milord."

"My life and My Betrothed."

---

Of course, as touching as this scene is, at this point of the story he is only thinking of saving his own skin and her dowry. We might even believe that he is not concerned whether she is drowned, because the moment they wed, her dowry is his. I do not like this in a hero, so I would like to think that he sets a trap. While others saw the dream as something evil, her betrothed decided to take it as a warning. When they finally do wed, two hundred of his men are hidden, ready to attack whoever attempts to assassinate him on his wedding day.

I am not a paranormal writer, but I love to wonder if there really are prophets who are sent to help people follow the true path - not people who tell us what we want to hear, but others.

Have you ever been driving, and was delayed a few seconds because a car cut yours off. Forced into another lane caused you to loose 30 seconds - nothing dramatic, until a few minutes later when you barely miss an accident - by a few seconds. This type of thing has always fascinated me. Is mankind in the mess they are because they burned or drown everyone who had a 'gift', and now, there are just none left?

It is an interesting thought. If I wanted to bring back someone who was in touch with something beyond our dimension, I think the time of Martin Luther and the three queens who ruled the world would be the time.