Familiar Stranger

He would find where his sister had hidden her.

He would find her, no matter how well she had been hidden.

Why had she been hidden in the first place? It’s not like he would ever harm her. She was not like their sister who had turned her back on everything and anything they had once believed in.

Why his sister thought she was any better than him just because she had found some kind of princess didn’t mean that the princess would be the right one.

After all, their parents had found a princess who had become a queen and that hadn’t turned out very well for them, had it? No, they had been twisted and become the very thing that they had spent their entire lives fighting against not once, but twice. It was better to not put your faith into any kind of nobility at all. The only thing you should put your faith in was your own family and even then, only if they put all of their faith into you as well.

His sister had made her choice and in doing so had become his enemy.

Relative Perspective

It was some time before she was even aware of the concept of time. Most of her days went something like this:

She woke up, she couldn’t tell when it was, but there was always someone who entered with a bowl of broth soon afterwards. She would eat as much as she could before she’d fall asleep again.

She’d wake up sometime latter to have a small repeat.

Sometimes when she wakes, the man who found her is there; sometimes he’s not. There doesn’t seem to be any pattern to it and she doesn’t think much to try and find one. She’s too tired for that.

(Why is she so tired?)

Eventually, she notices that she has several different things attached to her person, but for the life of her she can’t remember what they are or what purpose they serve.

She doesn’t have it in her to do more than stare at them before she’s fallen asleep once more.

They’re still there when she wakes and after a moment of trying to remove one, she’s stopped by the man who’d found her and. presumably, brought her here.

“Leave them,” he speaks in a quiet voice that is very deep, but his touch is gentle, “you are still recovering.”

She falls asleep again before he can say anything else.

The next time she wakes, she ignores the things and eats her broth without any extra movements other than her eyes following the movements of the woman spoon feeding her the soup. She’s too tired for anything else.

By the time she’s strong enough to feed herself, there’s some kind of bread in the broth as well. She doesn’t bother with wiping up every time she spills as she’s too busy being grateful she can lift the spoon to her mouth without aid. The spoon is unsteady and she suspects that the bread is partially there so that there is less liquid to drip on herself.

This time, there is a smile of satisfaction on her lips as she falls asleep once more.


He’s not quite sure what to think of the young woman on the bed before him.

She is a pale thing, all red hair and dark eyes and thin cheeks. She seems wasted, as if she’d had an illness and had only recently been cured from it, only to face her body after the ordeal.

He wonders, not for the first time, where she has come from and how she came to be in the alley that he’d found her near. She doesn’t seem to be the kind of woman or even man that would frequent such an area and her body shows no signs of drugs or abduction. She isn’t malnourished and though she is thin and pale and wasted looking, she is otherwise healthy.

Alexander feels a buzzing in his pocket and withdraws a beeper. He hadn’t brought his phone in with him, hadn’t wanted to chance it messing with the equipment or going off when she was awake and startling her.

(She had been so curious about the wires and leads and didn’t seem to understand what they were for.)

He sighs at the code and, with a nod to the nurse outside the room, leaves the wing she’s being kept in. He stops at the end to retrieve his phone and his tablet.

At first he hadn’t been certain why he’d felt the need to talk her with him and have his own doctors look after her. Even when the reports of her physical condition were given he hadn’t known why. Alexander was a businessman, and he does give generously to charities as well as other organizations. He does not bring people in need home with him, no matter what the tabloids say.

He still does not know why she is here, yet he makes no move to send her away, though in her state, it would be very easy to do so.

She has been there for half a year already, but her physical improvement is slower than initially projected by his doctors. No one knows why.

He doesn’t even know her name.


Written for this week’s Daily Post’s weekly writing challenge: https://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/03/10/weekly-writing-challenge-golden-years/

I’m not entirely sure why it didn’t mention much about age and only about how time is relative to different people due to perspective, but it would only be written like this.

Time and Place

Her eyes blinked open and she took in her surroundings.

She was in some kind of…place.

There was a snort from somewhere beside her and with a slit shake o her head, she realized that it was from her own vocal chords.

Great, just fabulous! I have no idea where I am.

It was snowing, wherever she was, and she was alone.

“Are you all right?”

She looked up, startled, into the eyes of a man. He was pale and his eyes looked concerned. He held out a hand to help her up and without thinking, she took it. He slowly helped her to her feet, keeping her from falling over when she stumbled and holding her up as her legs inevitably gave out as well.

He continued to talk and ask her questions, but she couldn’t understand what he was saying. She just stared up at him as his face continued to blur around the edges until everything whited out.

It was still snowing gently yet thickly.


Written for last Friday’s FreeWriteFriday prompt: http://kellieelmore.com/2014/02/28/fwf-free-write-friday-time-and-place-scenario/