The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Cursed Savior
by Elizabeth H. Smith

She discovered me frigid and pale as the gray sky. The cold had taken my strength, the bite of winter gnawed away my will until I no longer knew hope. I’d accepted death and the forever it gifted. I looked up at her, a wounded animal begging for its end, wishing away the suffering with the cure of finality.

As she looked down at my frail body, her gaze bled darkness, a void that swallowed my entire being. Nothing else existed when I was embraced by her eyes, as if the world faded away and was no more—only her and I remained.

She spoke not a word, only nodded in what I deemed understanding. I was unsure whether she was going to grant my morbid wish of desperation, or offer her hand to save me. She seemed capable of either. And at that moment, either would have been fine.

What I could not see was that she offered both.

I was not gone from this world, but my body had long since decayed. My thoughts were still free, but I could only roam where she tread. At least I wasn’t alone, like I’d been that day in the forest. There were many others in that place, the vast space behind her eyes. She collected our poor souls, both freeing us of our earthly bodies, and imprisoning us within her mind. We all existed there, we could all see the theater of acts she committed, as if we were attendees at a picture show. We could feel the world, but never control our way. We were only watchers behind her dark sight, unwilling participants in acts of combined mercy and cruelty. And that’s where we’d remain as long as she walked the earth.

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Fiction © Copyright Elizabeth H. Smith
Image courtesy of Pixabay

More About Elizabeth H. Smith:
Elizabeth H. Smith is a storyteller who writes while trying to keep her cat, Luna off the keyboard. The musical group, Rasputina is her muse. She was born in the state of New York and would never feel at home anywhere else.