I had the sensation of falling,
Skirts flaring upwards,
The cold sky running away from sight.
A tunnel of darkness.
All light gone save the spot of light from where I fell.
Through the trapdoor.
That opened with a bang.
Screams emanated from my throat.
For how will I stop this,
The air becoming colder.
I ball up,
For I wish to be warm.
And under my cherry tree,
With my innocent books,
And classes of etiquette .
Mama was vying to get me wed.
But I dissented.
Ran away to papa’s garden.
But I tripped and fell,
Stumbling down, down,
I know not of the bottom of this fall.
For the airs still caress my skin,
Chilling me coldly by the passing second.
I most likely passed out,
For I am no longer falling,
But underneath is something smooth,
Like the silkiness from brushed hair.
Oh it’s a bed of sorts,
Dim torches cast ominous shadows,
Where is this place?
I am in a room,
Decorated sparsely save the imposing four poster,
And an occupied chair across the room.
Eyes widening in recognition,
I move farther away,
To the edge of the four poster…
to be continued…