The First Look

“A bad beginning leads to a bad end”, my nanny used to say looking at me and sighing…
I don’t even remember why I went there in the first place. But we were both there and our beginning was more than bad, it was bloody.

I was giggling and walking on the corridor. When I found the door I almost didn’t open it. I was so nervous but excited to. I was reaching out to open it when the door was slammed open by a mord.
His skin was bluish-grey and through the rags he was wearing I could see 3 of his ribs.
The moonlight coming through the narrow window fell directly on him as I backed up terrified.
He had seen me but seemed more interested in looking for a way out. He looked at me torn between his hunger and his desire to escape. His completely black eyes with white pupils glowed feverishly. It was stupid of me but I couldn’t stop staring at his ribs fascinated by the way the moonlight made the bones shine. I should have been trying to run. But then it happened… so fast I didn’t have the chance to scream even if I wanted to.
Another man came from behind him. They started to struggle. The mord was easily backed against the wall. I got just a glimpse at the dagger before the mord dropped dead to the floor.
A mord and now a shorah…Things were going from bad to worse. A waive of emotions rushed through me but I could only recognize fear. A fear so great it made me hurt on the inside.
The shorah wiped his weapon and slowly turned towards me. When he made his first step I tried to step back, just to find that the stone wall of the hallway was already behind me. “I’m going to die” was my only thought. Hi was taking his next step when an order stopped him. It was a little more then a whisper but it pounded in my ears like a war drum.
I didn’t understand what had been said but it saved me. He had long silvery hair that shinned like a halo in the moonlight, pale skin and deep dark eyes. He looked satisfied at the mord and then he looked at me. A didn’t look away and that seemed to both intrigue and annoy him. I didn’t hear his footsteps as he got closer to me. I wasn’t as scared anymore but when he tilted his head toward my face my heart stopped. He didn’t say a word; he just looked in my eyes. I could feel his breath on me cheeks and then his fingers brushed softly over my face, closing my eyes. When I looked again I was alone in the corridor, breathing heavily. The emptiness was almost tangible and I felt strangely empty myself as if I were still lost in the darkness of his eyes. I took a step forward but tripped over the corpse of the mord. The memory of the ruthless murder came back in a flash of pain and fear. I got up as fast as I could and I started to run. I remember going through the forest and feeling watched but not looking back, and falling down in the icy could river. What I don’t remember is reaching the safety of my home, getting in bed and falling asleep. I do remember dreaming of him that night: looking fearless into his eyes, running my fingers through his hair and hoping to see him again.