Haven

Awakening in Shadows

In case you are wondering, that is how I died, well, too technical died-ish. If you are confused, that's okay; so am I, especially when I wake in a strange room. I was lying on a spring mattress. Hesitantly, I swung my feet to the floor. I felt a horrible pain in my abdomen and was wrapped in a black cloak that looked like it was made out of shadows. I reached for the clasp to remove it but was rebounded by some force, sending a jolt through my body and causing more pain. I let a yelp escape my mouth. The door burst open, revealing the old man I saw save me. Upon closer examination, he was also the man from the corner involved in the accident.

"It worked." his face was white with shock, and he addressed me only after he registered that I was awake. "Darling girl, what are you doing? You could rip your stitches. I spent many hours trying to put you back together." I suddenly remembered the past events and pulled up my shirt to investigate the wound. Every movement hurt, and now I understand why. 

After I removed the bandages, I saw the disgusting patchwork of stitches holding my abdomen closed where there was a long slice in it. Instantly sickened by the sight, I placed the bandages back on and gazed at the wall."I'm sorry for the mess of the wound treatment, but I'm afraid it's been a while since I worked on a sword wound." he waited for a response. Still, I didn't have any as I was contemplating how to not move or breathe. "right, but you want to go home probably, and you can just take this for the pain." the old man handed me a small glass jar full of brown thick liquid that did not look appealing at all. 

In conjunction with being given it by a stranger, that made up my mind. I placed it on the floor next to my feet and continued my prior activity of staring at the wall. 

"if you think you can make it to the door, let alone home, without something for the pain, you would be mistaken." he again waited for me to respond, I didn't "well at least take it with you when you go home. Oh! and take this." he reached behind him again "it is a magic paste it helps you heal at a faster rate. I would have found a spell that just heals you, but I'm so unpracticed in them that it is more likely that I would kill you." he made a small laugh hoping it would put me at ease but failed. 

Out of the bag he had grabbed from the table, he pulled out a glass jelly jar filled with some off-white stuff. When he opened the jar, it released a hideous odor, and he scooped some out with his finger. He held his other hand out in my view. They were weathered with age, calloused, and leather-looking. There was a small cut on his thumb, not bleeding now, but it had been. He took some of what he scooped out and placed it on the cut. I stared for a moment, but it didn't heal. "I said faster, my girl, not instantaneous." he laughed again, but this time it was natural and full of years of life. He put the last bit of the paste in his mouth, coughed at its taste, and turned red from the effort of swallowing it. "Don't do that. It's definitely a mistake, but it's not poisonous." I nodded and put the paste in my bag; I started to stand, wincing at the pain it caused but determined to get home. 

"My dear, you should at least put the paste on every two hours or so until it heals. whip off the extra that your skin doesn't absorb." I walked, and about to leave, he called out again. "If you could come back tomorrow after a good night's sleep, I could explain about the cloak." I had forgotten I was wearing it but could not take it off, so I was coming back tomorrow. I nodded and started my long walk home. 

Before I walked into my house, I had to hide the cloak, so I tried to remove it again, but no luck. Instead, I slipped my hoodie out from under it and back on over the top, rolling it all inside. My mother only yelled at me for a few hours for not calling. Luckily, the 'I don't care what you say' stance is good at helping you stand upright when you are dying. 

I closed the door to my room and went to sleep after I put on the paste; it only stung a little. The following day, I told my mother I didn't feel well. Conveniently, a body dealing with a stab wound has some sickly-looking systems. She decided that I had to stay home, but She had an important meeting this morning that she just couldn't miss. She settled on being back in a couple of hours. As soon as he left, I applied more paste, mainly with my eyes closed, then headed out. 

The old man's house was a red brick twin with all dead grass outside. He opened the door before I made it up the stairs and helped me inside. I was out of breath but managed to take the hoodie off, allowing the black cloak to fall around me.

"you must be using the paste. You look a little better," the old man said as he hung my hoodie up.

"Twice, once when I got home the second this morning."

"Good, Good." he fiddled about for a moment, then sat across the table from me 'you should be healed in a day or two." he clapped with excitement.

"The cloak, please take it off. I can't go to school like this."

"Is it not fashionable enough?" he flipped personalities to almost insulted.

"no, my teachers would want me to take it off, but I can't, so you need to."

"First, a story," He declared

"No story; I have to be home before my mom; the story is not on the menu."

"Then I wish you luck with the cloak situation."

"fine, story it is."