A Brush With Death

Chapter 1: The Informal Introduction

Bells rung from the quiet village that slept soundly below it. A young and lonely woman sitting by the open window while she counted the tolls.

"9.. 10.. 11.. 12.." The bells stopped ringing after it rung out 12 times, making this the longest the woman has ever stayed up in her life. She smiled and turned back to the book she was reading, which was a romance novel written by some local woman. No one really paid any attention when she was out and about looking for new books to buy, she loved to read. Her favorite story was about the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. She personally felt sorry for them, always doing the evil bidding of their master in order to wipe out humanity. She wasn't even afraid of the one they called Death, she was the one whom she felt sorry for the most, unable to touch people without them dying, or so she thought.

The room she sat in was basic with no walls to divide it into rooms and two windows on each wall, to make eight in total. From where she sat on her old wooden rocking chair she could see her whole home, the dining table in the middle of the room, her bed under the left window farthest from her and two book cases on the right filled with books both old and new. The kitchen was directly to her right while the window was to her left, a candle burning bright so she could read her book. Any person would notice the lack of anything living in her home aside from herself as well as the decaying wood and wall paint around her. Most people, including herself, just thought that it was the house being so old it could barely stand anymore.

A soft sigh emitted from her sultry lips, her skin appearing soft and flawless under the candle light. Her eyes were bright green, full of life and promise hidden behind curiosity. Her frame was perfect, an hourglass figure that most women train their bodies to do with their corsets but not her. All she needed was a dress and she was beautiful, not even the need for make-up arose with her. Long and flowing brown hair hid her back and reached down to her hips, which during the day, she kept in a perfect braid and sometimes just tied in a lose ponytail depending on her mood. While caught in the moment of her story a menacing breeze seeped through the window and gently lifted her nightgown, which only came up to her thighs, and rested slightly on her hip. This had indeed drawn her attention from the book and she looked down to see that her dress had lifted, but simply placed it back where it was and went back to her book. All of this effort to stay concentrated enough to read soon failed when she got the sudden need to look out of the window and to her shock, she blew out the candle and hidden herself under the window. A strange man with an ashen horse was riding through town, fouling the air around him with the stench of death that almost made her retch. She closed her eyes and she prayed that the man had not seen her light and that he would simply pass by. But to her dismay, her hopes were lost.

The man had stopped outside of her home and dropped the reigns to let the horse know to stay there in which it knew it had no choice anyway. His footsteps squished in the mud underneath him from the early spring rain and stopped outside of the window that she hid beneath. Her breath hitched and she silently covered her mouth when he leaned in and looked around the home to see that no one was there. He nodded and walked his horse over to a post to tie it and removed his gear before entering the home, thinking it was empty. The woman cowered and she heard three more horses approaching each with their own foul stenches, she could swear these men had come from Hell itself but she knew that it was just stories. She convinced herself they were just bandits and that they would just have their way with her and leave, but that was not the case. These particular men had indeed come from Hell.

"The girl isn't here. Check the other houses and don't kill anyone. I don't want to be responsible for early graves." The dismounted man have given the three his order and they rode off, checking the homes for her. Her chest felt like it was going to explode from the fear and lack of oxygen so she forced herself to breathe. Calmly and quietly she remained there with tears streaming down her face before turning to see that he had entered her home and was looking for a light source. She looked up and silently cursed herself for leaving it by the window and crawled under the table when he walked over to the window sill. He paused for a moment, smelling the air and he smiled slightly. He could smell her perfume, and she was close. He looked around once more, his sword slightly drawn in case she was dumb enough to attack until his eyes were drawn to a soft white cloth under the table that was caught in the moonlight as well as her smooth legs which quaked in fear. He sighed and grabbed the candle, understanding her fear and chose to pretend not to notice her. He lit the candle and placed it on top of the table before sitting down right in front of her. Now that he was close, she could no longer smell the death that hung around him but backed away slowly from him anyway. Just in case.