Cursed Ground

She let out a slow steady breath and eased back against the pillows until her senses absorbed the full affect of her surroundings. It was only then she realized she was not alone. Ahead where she presumed the closet lay hidden she guessed someone stood within the shadows.

“Who’s there?” She whispered.

A figure stepped into the light. It was a man. His hair was dark, his figure lean and his face was gripped with a mixture of fascination and compassion. Yet she noticed little else since her attention was held by his fine attire. It was peculiar that he was so well dressed given the circumstance. She almost validated the thought with the assumption that he might be dressed for her funeral until a sharp pain surged through her left leg, relieving her with the understanding that she was in fact alive.

“I gave you something to help the pain,” he said. “You should lie back.”

She did as he said, suddenly feeling very tired again. He moved over to the bed and she fixed her eyes on the tall tower of a man standing above her. Now she noted that he was relatively handsome and probably not much older than her, but most importantly she regarded he wasn’t a threat. Obviously if he meant her any harm she wouldn’t be alive to think about it now.

“Where am I? What happened?”

“The sun came up.” There was a slight twinkle in his eye when he spoke and she wondered what left him so elated that he’d found himself in such a light-hearted mood during a dreadful time such as this. She murmured a soft sound, closed her eyes as exhaustion overcame her and drifted off to sleep again.