Changing Faces - Part Ten


Colette pulled her blanket about her, locking out the chill. It had been wet and dreary lately, and she didn't feel very good.

Propping herself up in her chair, she watched the fire crackle, trying to block out the sounds of raindrops pit-pattering on the roof.

The door cracked, and Eloise peeked in. "Mistress, are you hungry? How about some soup - "

"No, no thank you. I'm not hungry."

Eloise frowned sternly at the pale woman. Colette had bnever been the most healthy woman; now her appetite was dwindling. Her curly hair now hung rather loosely about her lovely face; Eloise noticed dark circles under her eyes and a general thiness about her frame.

After Eloise left, Colette picked up her diary from where it lay in her satchel. Cracking a page, she flipped through the book till she came to the latest entry.

Picking up her pen, she began writing.

Dear Diary -

Today, Eloise said Raven came racing into the house like, as Eloise put it, a demon was on her tail.

Silly old biddy.

The days are getting colder - or is it just me? Every morning is gray now, and every afternoon seems to take forever. There are times my body grows cold, and it feels like I can never rid it of the feeling; as if the cold is part of me.

I never noticed this before, but the floor creaks. A great deal. You don't even have to be walking, just shifting your weight, and it creaks. I wonder why I never noticed it before --

Later on this month is the Darkholme Clan's annual luncheon. Not that I expect to be invited. My husband is dead, after all, and his mother despices me. She thought he should never have married me in the first place, the old hag. I remember the snooty look she had plastered on her face at our wedding. Almost made me cry after the ceremony.

She doesn't even like Annette.



Raven dragged herself from bed. Her neck ached, and she had a pulled muscle in her shoulder. Her hair felt like a dead weight upon her head, and her very skin was soaked with dirt.

Reaching up, she scratched her head, grimacing as she hit a snag of hair. Running her tongue over her teeth, she frowned. Walking into the kitchen, she founda large pail and filled it with water. Picking up a washcloth, she hauled the pail up to her room.

Shedding her shift, she dipped the cloth into the water, squeezed, then lightly swabbed her neck. Checking the cloth, she was surprised to see she was not as dirty as she thought.

Dunking the cloth back in, she began washing off her legs and arms, all the while trying to rid her head of yesterday's memories.

She'd had horrible nightmares last night; strange visions of hulking monsters and beasts with skulls for heads. It had disturbed her, and she felt - unclean.

Squeezing the cloth to rid it of excess water, she scrubbed her face vigorously. She cracked her knuckles, then swabbed behind her ears. Closing her eyes breifly, she allowed a tear to course down her cheek. Tilting her head over, she dipped her hair into the pail, then backed out. Water streamed down her face, tickling deliciously. Shaking her head quickly, she yawned and wrapped her hair in a towel.

Crawling back into bed, she listened to the pitter-patter on her roof, gradually drifting off to sleep, not even noticing when the towel slipped off and fell to the floor.

Back to the Changing Faces index