Poem by Emily Dickinson (first stanza of "Because I Could Not Stop for Death")

Note: Remember that all REVIEWS are WELCOME.This statement applies to compliments criticisms and suggestions. I am still not entirely sure where I am going with this, or how it gets there...

Because I could not stop for Death—
He kindly stopped for me—
The Carriage held but just Ourselves—
And Immortality.

Chapter 4

Everything was blurry when I tried to open my eyes. I blinked several times to regain focus; it felt like I had been drugged, or hit on the head with something very heavy. My body ached and when my eyes took in the light, my head ached as well. I groaned as I looked around. I had no idea where I was. The sick feeling of panic started to unfurl itself in my stomach. I jumped out of bed, and landed with a muffled shriek; pain seared through my ankle and my eyes watered. I looked down and saw that it had been bandaged, quite well too. While staring down at my ankle, I noticed the floor: it was a beautiful checker board of rose pink and black marble.

My breath caught in my throat as I took in the rest of the room. It was both longer and wider than any room I had stayed in, and decorated in a style grander than anything I could have imagined. To my left, my hand was still on it, was a magnificent four-poster bed made out of dark mahogany. I saw at once why it had hurt to get down from it; it was enormously tall. There was actually a small set of steps next to the bed, something I noted mentally for the benefit of my ankle. The bed was covered in the softest white sheets, and they were covered by a velvety blanket that was a mossy green color, with tiny pink flowers woven in. I ran my fingers over the delicate stitching, and looked at the rest of the room.

Standing in front of the bed, there was a fireplace with a pink marble hearth, and a mahogany mantle-piece with a ground level view of a meadow of flowers carved in it. There was a fire crackling in it now, but it reminded me vaguely of an animal chained to an alcove in the wall, domesticated and made to lay on a bed of wood only by force. The feeling sent a chill down my spine, and my gaze moved hurriedly on. To my right, there were two stately looking arm chairs, both a deep red plush, with a handsome lion claw table in between them. And on the wall behind the chairs, was a large tapestry that showed a pastoral scene: a young man fallen fast asleep on the grass, and the moon goddess Selene watching over him with the sadness of a lover who knows she can never be with the one she wants.

Past my bed, there was a door. I walked over to it, mindful of my ankle, and pulled on the glass knob. It was heavy, and required the force of all my weight to finally wrench it open. I walked in and found a bath room; the walls, floor and tub, were all one piece of polished, golden-yellow granite. I sat on the ledge of the tub and examined it, the inside was lined with white porcelain, and the taps were made of brushed silver, from what I could tell. The counter was made of a light rosewood to complement the granite; on it sat a pitcher and basin, a comb with an amber handle, and several other items.

As I walked out of the bathroom, I noticed an impressive cherry wood armoire standing in front of the corner to my left. I opened both of the doors, and my hands flew up to my mouth. The armoire was filled side to side with gowns of every cut and color. Some were deep gem tones, with draping bell sleeves; some were white and dove grays, with elegant three-quarter sleeves; and some were black like obsidian, with daring neck-lines and hems that would drag the floor on me. What I saw on the top shelf made me blush and panic at the same time. The top shelf contained all manners of sleep wear and undergarments. All were exquisite, but they all meant something.

I backed away from the armoire, my eyes widening in horror with each step. Whoever was responsible for this, the room, furnishings and especially the closet, intended for me to stay. Permanently.

I tripped on the edge of an area rug and fell to the floor, I didn't feel the pain of the impact because a memory was coming back to me now. The smell of sandalwood and other things, the flower preceding the sound of hooves. The driver, his eyes, and my abduction. I rocked back and forth on the floor, not willing to accept any of this. I shook my head and began to cry. I felt like I was a stupid little child again. Lost without her mother. Mother. She would be tearing the world apart looking for me. I immediately felt guilty for being so foolish. Look where your longing and loneliness got you. And you think you can truly be alone, out of your mother's shadow you are a ridiculous girl who knows nothing about being independent…

I cursed the man who brought me here. Wherever here was. I started to garner my courage, goaded on by my own criticizing thoughts. I am not stupid, I just have to find a way out of here, that's all. I rubbed the remaining tears off my cheeks and gingerly stood up.

I tried the main door of my room, but it wouldn't budge. I twisted and pulled until I thought my shoulders would become dislocated. So I had to pick the lock. I unfastened the pin at my shoulder that held my robe together. With one hand I held the place where the pin had been, and with the other I wheedled with the lock. I brought my ear closer and listened for those tell-tale clicks. I heard one. Click. Then another. Click. With the pin still in the lock, I turned the knob, and this time it opened. I quickly refastened the pin and peered out of the room down the hallway.

The halls were paved with cold white marble, and they seemed to go both ways forever. I chose the leftward direction, and tried to keep track of the number of doors I was passing, the number of steps I descended or ascended, but it was no use. The halls and stairs were labyrinthine, and I imagined that they were designed that way to keep things in. After what felt like hours of walking I reached what looked like an end to this maze. Ahead there was a large, semi-circle shaped veranda, with columns lining the perimeter and holding the roof above it. The place was quiet save the soft padding of my bare feet on the stone floor.

All the sudden, I heard the click of shoes on the floor, just outside the veranda. I froze. I looked around for a place to hide. I decided on the place behind the column closest to the wall. I scurried over, and slid behind the pillar just in time. I bit my lip to stifle a yelp. There was no wall on the other side of the columns, just the edge of the veranda like the edge of a cliff. There was about a foot or so of space for my feet so I hugged the pillar for dear life.

Two men walked out onto the veranda, conversing in low tones. I wedged myself in between the wall and the column to get a better look. The first man looked less like a man, and more like a haze of darkness. I stared a little longer, and squinted my eyes. I began to see, that in the haze, there was a darker silhouette in the shape of a man. His silhouette was filled with pure, black darkness. I recoiled slightly, but then the second man came into my view.

In my limited experience with men, I haven't the broadest sense of what is and isn't handsome. But the knot that formed and tightened in my stomach told me that this man was more than handsome. He had a tall, strong frame, with broad shoulders that narrowed down into his slim waist. Not much more could be said about his form, as it was concealed by a sweeping black cape, that blended with his black clothing. But for all the silence of description from his body, his face spoke volumes to make up for it. He had dark hair, with the front brushing almost over his eyes, and the back keeping closer to his head. His forehead sloped into a thin, straight nose, met on either side by high cheek bones and underlined by a well-defined jaw. His eyes had an unusual, slightly tilted shape, that was filled by a gray iris each. His skin was pale, compared to mine anyway, and the effect was striking. But his mouth held a sour expression that spoiled the rest of his face. I didn't understand how someone so handsome could look so disagreeable and unpleasant. The skin on his lips was so pale that it almost seemed to fade from his face, as if from disuse. But his mouth gained its rightful share of attention when he spoke. His teeth were the things that drew back the attention, in my opinion. The incisors were particularly pronounced and evenly placed. I got my first glimpse of them when he spoke.

At first I only heard snatches of their conversation. From it I gathered where I was: The Underworld. I almost laughed in hysteria: that would make my captor none other than Hades, great King of the Dead, the Rich One, Death. An upheaval of emotion loosed itself in my head. The audacity! The absolute hypocrisy! The ruler of the Underworld famed for his infallible sense of justice has kidnapped me, for what reason I scarcely wish to imagine, from my home and my life, when I have done nothing wrong. I can't even die. I have no reason to be here! At this break in my outrage, I heard him say to the dark one I gleaned was Thanatos, "…Search for her. I do not care how long it takes. She will not leave. She will not escape."

I sucked in my breath. Before I could control myself, my rage boiled over at these last statements. So I was a prisoner after all. I will not be anyone's object. On nights where I was daring enough, I dreamed of having my own independence, of being respected, and sometimes, of being loved. I strode out from my hiding place, shaking with anger,my fists balled at my sides. I shouted:

"Here I am, you disgusting thief!"