Opinion
I wrote a bit of this the other day. What do you guys think? I asked before if anyone would be interested in a dark, modern reincarnation and I got a good response. I just hope the response will still be the same. :P
“Gwen?”
Hurriedly she darted into the nearest room and closed the heavy oak door as quietly as possible. She half-listened for footsteps beyond the door as she scanned her refuge.
The small room was equipped with shelves stacked with fresh linens and other bedding.
A storage closet? Really?
Cursing her inner-navigator she slid to the floor as far from the door as she could. Jennifer pulled her legs to her chest, crossed her arms across her knees, and buried her head into the nest of limbs. Bootsteps outside her hideaway had her closing her eyes tightly and clenching her teeth.
“Guinevere?”
She held her breath, as if the slightest sound of her shallow breathing would alert him, and waited for him to discover her.
But instead the ‘thud’ of his boots against the wooden floor moved past without pausing at the closet.
A jolt ran through her heart as she heard him stop at the end of the hall where he was greeted by a pair of lighter footsteps.
“You haven’t found her?” Morgan asked.
No answer- at least verbal- followed from her brother.
“Well, she couldn’t have gone far. Mary or Thomas would have seen her before she left.”
A pause.
“Could you locate her?” Arthur requested of the woman, urgency slipping into his tone.
Morgan- no, Morgana- sounded hesitant.
“I didn’t want to scare her…magic seems to frighten her. But if that is all we have left….”
A flash of light paused at the corners of the door frame before extinguishing themselves half a second later.
Something akin to amusement and relief was clear in the sorceress’ tone.
“Didn’t you once say that you could track a hare blindfolded?” she baited.
Arthur murmured something that sounded like ‘shut up’ before backtracking to the closet.
Faster than she thought possible she had launched herself at the door knob.
“Gwen….open the door,” came the order from her captor beyond the door.
She shook her head, although he couldn’t see, and felt a sob bubble up her throat.
“Guinevere…”
“Please,” she whispered as he attempted to turn the door knob.
She braced her legs against the door frame in order to anchor herself against his tugs.
“Guinevere, just calm-”
“That’s not my name!” she snapped, her words nearly choked by her tears.
She just wanted to forget this ever happened….
Why couldn’t he just leave her be?
Silence followed as she tried to steady her breathing, which had grown erratic from her chest-heaving sobs,
“Jennifer.”
Hearing her own name effectively cut off the adrenaline rush that had fueled her earlier escape. Her hands slackened on the knob as she recognized her defeat, giving him the moment needed to open the door.
He caught her before she hit the floor, her body weak after two days without eating and the lack of adrenaline pumping through her.
She pushed at his arms feebly but found that the tight muscles would not yield.
As her vision swam she vaguely heard him yell for Mary to bring water along with the maid’s hurried gait rushing off to retrieve it.
Feeling herself lifted off the ground she was placed in his arms, her curls trailing over his bicep.
“My name’s Jennifer,” she whispered, staring at the ceiling as the world before her began to blur.
“My name’s Jennifer.”