Bellman later, on the first floor, I retrieved my mail from the slender slot on the wall with my name on it. ‘Good afternoon Mrs. Bellman,’ I greeted politely, mail in hand, attempting to pass her in the narrow hall. ‘Robert, are you sleeping well?’ She inquired, in the formal, call-you-by-your proper-first-name way that old ladies do, striking me uncomfortable. ‘Uh…yeah,’ I stammered, ‘sure, and yourself?’ ‘Oh…fine Robert…thanks for asking,’ she waved at me, sounding somehow ingenuine. Was she mocking me? Or, perhaps I was still jumpy, due to my recent nocturnal experiences. Either way, it made no difference because by the time she was back in her apartment, I was already gone, rushing up the stairs to my own. Something about that old woman just made me want to bolt. The following night, I stripped and climbed into bed with a nervous eye on the dresser. I was being silly of course, I told myself switching off the light, it had been no more than a bad dream, probably brought. ‘What is your name?’ He ask softly, taking her face in his hands. ‘Persephone.’ She managed to whisper, before letting her eyelids close once more and sagging down to the ground. * * * Persephone awoke twenty seven hours later in her new room. She sat up shakily, trying to remember something – anything that would alert her to where she was. The last thing she remembered was running through her field, trying to get away from someone. She looked around the room for some clue, but nothing lied within it but beautiful furnishings. Dark black stone walls and floor, a small greenish fire burning before a love seat, two chairs, a deep wooden table – all set upon a white rug. She stood up slowly and walked around the room, examining more of it. The bed was quite lavish, but she missed her own small cot compared to the large four postered one in front of her. She lightly stroked the silken sheets and pillows, wondering once again where she was. This was all too luxurious for her home. Her.
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