An Unpleasant Surprise

She turned him over, making him fall on her, and was shocked at what she saw. His army uniform was covered in dried blood. His name tag hung as limp on his neck as he laid in her arms. Her white silk dress was getting stained by his blood, but she didn't care. All she could do was stare at his chest. There was a dagger impaled in his chest. The crest of the dagger was of a golden lion, with its eyes of bright sapphire, and its base encrusted with jewels.

'No,' she thought, 'it can't be.' It was her dagger. It was given to her by her love before he left her for this damnable war. A cold chill ran up her spine. She could not believe what she was seeing.  Slowly, she looked up at his face. His blue eyes, once full of vibrance and light was now dead and cold, staring expressionlessly up beyond her. His mouth, possibly known as having a tongue that was as sharp as his wit was now open but silent. No longer will he charm ladies with his teasing jokes, and easy demeanor.  Death had swallowed him whole, and had not been merciful, for pain was etched in his once handsome face. He was familiar, but she doesn't recall ever formally meeting him. Not really knowing how to react, she gently pushed him back to the gravel, stood up, and began running towards the mansion.

It was a long way back. As she ran, tears blocked her vision as they streamed down her face. She couldn't believe it; why did it have to be him? She ran, and ran, and ran, but the mansion seemed to get farther and farther. Her chest seemed to constrict as her sobs grew shorter because of the run, and her crying. Exhausted, she collapsed, and sobbed brokenly on her forearm.

Her cries were heard by the handmaid of the mansion. The swarthy woman, worried about the health and well-being of the yound mistress, set aside all of her chores in the kitchen, and rushed towards the sounds of painful sobbing. She walked from the kitchen through the hallway leading to the luxe dining area. Appearing in the dining area, she glanced around to find the young mistress. But to her dismay, the young mistress was not in sight. Her eyes wandered thoughout the room, looking at the lavish design: the gold trim of the draperies that match the very exquisite silverware, the red velvet curtains that hung from the ceiling to the ground, and the mysterious paintings that haunt the ceilings that were excentuated by the chandelier.

After carefully searching the room, the handmaid quickly turned around, and kept looking. She passed by the elegantly-styled solarium, and the very peaceul surroundings of the living room. She ran passed all of the beauteous backdrop of the mansion in search for the young mistress. She ran towards the doors, and noticed them slightly ajar. She pushed through, and was blinded by the sun that has very lightly began to graze the soft earth. The maid squinted her eyes, adjusting to the bright light. After a few moments, she looked down, and saw her mistress lying by the foot of the stairs to the patio. Concerned, the handmaid rushed to the side of her mistress, and turned her over. It was apparent to her that the young mistress had indeed been weeping.

She felt around her pockets, and pulled out a bottle of smelling salts.