This Isn't Me

Chapter 1

    Running. Chasing. Hunting. I plunged through the somber, opaque, evergreen forest. The parched autumn leaves crunched beneath my cumbersome boots as I dashed away from the grunting of the ghastly beast. I slammed against the dark, gloomy trees, drops of sweat forming against my forehead. My wild hair blew behind me as the pounding of the ground became more intense than ever. The pine bow that was slung over my torn shoulder swayed violently as I ran. The earth shook beneath my feet. Everything froze. For an instant, everything was still. The crisp night air became stronger. The pounding ceased, but I could hear the raspy panting of the horrid beast. I turned to the sound of the breathing and pulled my bow off of my shoulder, wincing as the string of the bow became caught on my torn, dug in flesh. The string was covered in dark blood as I loaded one of the freshly sharpened arrows onto it, my heart pounding in my chest. I held my breath and aimed the arrow at the sound. It growled lowly, rattling the trees surrounding it. Any second now.
    Then there was a vague knock.
I sighed sluggishly. Gazing up at the dark stone ceiling, I noticed its slight moisture by the glistening from the pale moonlight. The room was atramentous, the air thick and dense. The sweet smell of freshly picked daisies and dewy red roses filled my lungs as I turned and nuzzled my face into my pillow, hoping to cascade back to torpidity . My mind raced with the thoughts of the dream, the grunting beast, the cold, bone-chilling night air. This is the third night and I still have no theory as to what the beast could possibly be. All I can think about is the deep, growling and grunting of the ferocious monster, It's hot, penetrating breath, making the hairs on my neck stand at attention. I need closure, I must know what it is.
    I wiped the tepid drool off of my damp chin and lifted my sleeping mask from my squinched, tired eyes. The moonlight shone brightly through the curtains hanging over my window. It must be around midnight. I wonder what Addiline and Boris are up to... Knowing Addy, either she's sneaking into his chambers right about now, or he into hers. They can not keep their hands from one another for anything.
    My thoughts were abruptly cut short as the knock became louder. " Come In" I replied to the knock drowsily, my voice tired and raspy. The hefty door gradually eased open. I sat up, resting on my elbows, looking at the door in bewilderment. Who could possibly be at my door during this hour? Small, fragile hands swaddled themselves around the edge of the wooden doorframe. The face of my dear sister peaked around the door, her large, sparkling cinnamon eyes gazing over at me. Her dark eyelashes clung to one another by some sort of dampness. She must have been crying. She stepped into the room a bit further, her cheeks glistening in what moonlight was shining through the window. She smiled tenderly at me, her beautiful eyes still welling up with tears. I beckoned her to come to me. She wiped her tears and slowly walked over to me. I couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of her hair. Its sleek, straightness has been tossed aside and is now a fluffy, tangled, slate colored mess. I slid over on my bed, allowing her room to climb in and get comfortable. She climbed in and slid under the deep maroon overspread, nuzzling her head against the cool, white pillow.
     She tightly wrapped her arms around my neck and clung to me as she drifted off to sleep. The poor thing must have had nightmares once again. Based on the tightness of her clinging, it must be about our mother, whom we have lost some eleven years ago. The horrific scene plays through my mind every now and again, every tiny detail being shown.
    Lizzy, my sister whom is clung to my neck, believes she is the cause of our mothers execution. This is because she was born mute, meaning that she is unable to speak or utter any sound for that matter. She did not cry when she was born, so of course, the foolhardy doctors accused my darling mother of witchcraft, which may I add is punishable by public execution. That day will haunt the minds of all who watched forevermore.