This is a sample of one of my most recent bits of writing. I would love to here opinions. Comments and questions would be appreciated!!

Emma Messinger

A weary horse and traveler trudged on through the silvery cloak of snow blanketing the frozen ground. The horses’ burden sat alert, but there was a definite slump to her figure. It was easy to see that this small party was not merely taking a casual stroll, the squaring of the maiden’s shoulders meant business, and her lips were curled with secrets.

She exhaled with relief at the glimmer of a lantern, barely peeking from behind the thick evergreen boughs. The Inn looked shabby, but suitable. Shouts and drunken laughter billowed from the chimney, along with the tantalizing scents of a well-deserved supper. She sighed, hoping.

Her pallid face was sternly defiant, despite the fact that she looked to be as delicate as a snowflake. Still, it was suspicious, but she had offered a large sum of money. The Innkeeper had to be careful, not picky, he couldn’t afford that, but cautious. He cleared his parched throat. “You wouldn’t be expecting company, by any chance?”

The girl’s cold eyes narrowed. “Don’t be meddlesome sir; it wouldn’t serve you well to refuse such a bargain.” She produced a bulging satchel from the folds of her skirt. “If you follow my instructions, neither you nor your precious Inn shall fall into harms way.”

The man licked his lips greedily as she loosened the drawstring bag. “Deal. I’ll bar the door at ten.”

She was awakened often by the spurts of boisterous singing from the guests downstairs, and the unnatural howling of the wind. Despite her gnawing hunger, she had refused to eat; there was no use risking it. For awhile though, near the middle of the night, she laid peacefully, her dreams undisturbed. Her curly white-blond hair was sprayed out underneath her slender neck, like a wave of sea foam splashed across her pillow. She looked like a beautifully crafted china doll, her complexion smooth and pale as porcelain.

Then, all of sudden, the night was threshed with hoof-beats. A horse, dark as the gloss of midnight swept from the forest into the clearing, rearing up. The rider yanked its reigns and slowed to a stop. Below, there was a hammering on the door. Upstairs, the girl leapt from her bed, her breathing coming faster, her face scared instead of persistent, and her ears straining to catch any whisper of boots on the stairs. But nobody came. The Innkeeper kept his promise. The hammering subsided.

Trembling, she went back to sleep, her dreams now haunted with the shady eyes of her pursuer, looming from the darkness.