Lillua by Janessa Mann
03-24-05 to 03-25-05
So this story is like random imaginiings. I started it with the opening paragraph (duh! smile) but then it gave me an idea... enjoy! So far i dont have much, but please R&R anyways so i have more ideas! THanx!

Was this all a dream? A sweet tantalizing dream that teased her into submission and then pounced, full force? Slowly wrapping her up into a cocoon of mesh nightmares, letting no air in, or out. Was this all a dream?

No, it could not be. Lillua walked down the silent path in the forest, shoulders curved and head slouching. Something was wrong with this place, very wrong. Chills crept up her back, covered in nothing more than a silk cape and her thin dress.

“Why do the shadows whisper so? What is the matter with them? Could it be the spirits are being awakened by my footsteps?” She stopped, and looked at her tired feet. They were bound in thick cotton, her boots having worn through days ago. She had ripped up part of her petticoats to protect her tiny feet from being cut.

Long since had the initial danger passed. She had been riding on her horse, Suliua, when suddenly these strange men had fallen upon her. Literally. So coming from the cliff above, they jumped down and smashed Suliua to the ground, killing her, and then asked Lillua for all her money and jewellery. She had given them as much as she could spare (the rest was hidden in her corset) and then walked primly off, trying to hide her thick tears for her lovely mare, now broken on the highway.

From there, she had fled into the woods, remembering that there was a way through. On some secluded path that she did not remember having ever gone on.

Dusk began to fall quickly. Soon the silent screams of the owls would pierce the quiet, and the yellow eyes of the hungry wolves would dance. Lillua shivered, and pulled the thin riding cape closer.

The blood red of it encased her like a net. It had gold brocade up and down as a trim, and then a pretty hood lined with mink fur. Very expensive if you did not have the right connections. But she did.

Her dress was the latest riding fashion: slim waisted but slit on the sides to allow riding astride. It was cream coloured, with a tight chocolate brown bodice, laced up the front.

Lillua’s hair fell down past her waist, escaping the thick braids her maid had done several days ago. It was frizzing about, a tangled and matted mess.

Tiny wisps of hair covered her eyes for only a second, but in that moment, everything changed.

Black clouds lined with silver stretched across the sky, miles above the dying foliage. By now, her steps had led her to a different part of the forest. The trees were fewer and fewer apart. They were twisted, gnarled forms resembling mutated corpses. Not exactly the nicest walk to Grandma’s!

Something in the air had changed. It was thinner now, and warped with strange scents and tastes. Fresh blood. A thirsty cry broke the muteness. A crack of thunder. Then a thread of lightning struck the ground right before Lillua. After the strange mist disappeared, a shape came forward.

“Good evening, fair lady.” It was a handsome man with a slight British accent. His lips were such a lovely red, deep and thriving. His eyes shone with moonlight. “What brings you to this part of the woods?” He extended his muscular arm towards her, and led Lillua down a neat path.

The couple promenaded down the sickly terrain towards a grand castle. The building was of a gothic stature, all dark and foreboding. But in this moment, Lillua seemed to think it was whimsical. Such an impulsive and romantic thing to do, go to an empty mansion with someone new!

As he led her down the route, the man whispered things to her about the surroundings. But he never seemed to open his mouth. It always was closed, the sound seemed to resound about his head.

Dark brown hair fell past his ears, wavy and wild. It was pulled back, and the hair at the bridge of his forehead came forward in a triangle. It made him seem more dashing than it would a normal person. A simple black tunic, with no trimmings, a white long sleeved shirt, and black breeches was all he wore.

“See that statue?” he would ask, pointing to a small, hissing cat in gold, “that was from my mother. She seemed to love cats a lot. I don’t know why, they always scared me!” Lillua had the impression he was smiling, but his mouth remained the silent closed. “After it died, she wanted the memory of, oh yes! Moku! She wanted a memory of him, so she convinced father to get a statue of him. So odd, don’t you think?”

Lillua giggled bashfully, wishing her feet weren’t so frozen cold, and numb from pain. They were horribly cut by now, and she doubted there’d be medicine in this odd house.

“Sir, what be your name? And where am I? When is it? What day? What”

He silenced her with his milky white hands over her protesting mouth.