Chapter 3
I am warm and the place I rest is soft and silky. I am at peace after all my trials. I open my eyes and smile.
The room is decorated with antiques. The bed is old oak with a framework to hang drapes from. There is a nightstand of time blackened cherrywood in the corner. Nightstands of a deep black wood guard either side of the bed.
The window is hung with thick drapes of deep blue velvet. The room is very calm and serene. No ancient horrors assail me.
I get out of bed, realizing as my feet touch the beautiful oriental carpet that I am naked. Who took my clothes?
I must be getting use to this house. Touching the carpet wasn't that disturbing.
There is wardrobe near a door. I go to the wardrobe and timidly open it. Inside hang my clothes and antique clothing from another era. The colors are not faded and they look to be in good condition. I am so tempted to try them on.
I am a coward for putting my own clothes back on. There are ugly bruises on my ribs, arms and legs. I wonder how I survived the crash. Their faces come up from deep within to haunt me. I have to cry.
When I am calm again I finish dressing. And open the door beside the wardrobe. Thankfully, the door leads to a bathroom.
I cleanse my hands and face after using the toilet. I look at myself in the huge mirror. The mirror is marbled with little strands of gold.
My eyes are haunted. My hair is a tangled mess. At some time during my dazed wanderings I cut my forehead. My lips are swollen and bruised. I smile. My teeth look intact.
I hear the bedroom door open. I step into the bedroom to thank my host for the help he/she has given me and find only a small cart with a covered silver service. The door is just closing.
I rush to catch the door and my host. The door closes before I can catch it. The cart emits soothing aromas, which make me aware of my hunger. I impatiently push the cart to the side. Opening the door, I look into the hall and see . . .
No one. There is absolutely no one in the many doored hall. No sound or other evidence of anyone dodging into another room. Perhaps, I am going mad. I swallow hard and turn back into the room, where the cart stands. It mocks me with its tempting aromas, heat and simple, inarticulate presence.
May 1, 1997
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