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His Mistress This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

It was becoming routine. Every night, I would lay awake for hours, silently listening to the train passing by, mournfully calling my name with every chug, and mocking my fear of leaving the safety of my quarters. I felt the adrenaline building, my muscles becoming tense as my heart beats steadily in harmony with the clatter of the train. My home was not here, locked behind a facade, a character made to protect my master’s name. This silk dress I wear, the corset biding my heart from jumping from my chest, does not belong to me, but to his wife, who gave it to me out of pity. He has a wife. And I am his mistress.
I wear my shoes to bed every night, laced tightly, in the event I muster up enough courage to escape through the small window beside my cot. Below it, hidden behind the tattered curtain, was my suitcase, the one my father gave to me before I left for my new home, where I would assist the lady of the house. Yet I wonder if my sole purpose for being here is something entirely different. As if it is to please my master.
I wish to run to the train, its howl chanting my name. There I know I would be safe from my master’s sordid touch, but be in danger of receiving his bitter wrath. For a second, I close my eyes, where in the darkness behind my eyelids I see his filthy hands gripping my bare skin, his sticky breath clinging to my neck, my hair tangled between his fingers. Perhaps this is why I cannot sleep, when I am awoken by living nightmares.
I hear his familiar heavy footsteps approaching as my pulse begins to speed. I know his reason for coming, and no matter how convincing I try to be, or how I deeply I pretend to sleep, he slyly slips in beside me and from his fetid mouth whispers for me to be silent. And I always am, in fear he would do something much, much worse.
The floorboards outside my door creak as if someone were stepping upon them. I bite my lip to keep myself from screaming as I see the brass doorknob turn ever so slowly. The train’s sorrowful wail cries for me one last time as it rolls farther and farther away, deeper and deeper into the woods. A single tear falls down my cheek as the door makes its way open with a groan, revealing my master’s dark shadow lingering in the doorway. My body shakes from terror.
I tell myself again, as if to keep my sanity, that the rain will roll by tomorrow night once again.



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This article has 8 comments. Post your own!

SweetlySour said...
Jul. 16, 2011 at 2:18 am:

This was so amazing. The description was great, the wording was excellent and edgy, and the entire piece drew me in deeper with every sentence.

Wonderful job!

~ Lindsey

 
serendipitous615 replied...
Jul. 16, 2011 at 8:48 am :
thank you so much for your comment! it means so much to hear back from readers :) glad you liked it!
 
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Cookieluvr said...
Jul. 2, 2011 at 6:31 pm:
I loved this piece! Wonderful descriptions and you can feel the woman's terror! It reminds me of Room by Emma Donaghue (idk how to spell it). Can you check out my work? Thanks.
 
serendipitous615 replied...
Jul. 3, 2011 at 12:43 pm :
thanks!! i've never read "the room" but i think i'll look it up! and sure i would love to!
 
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prettylittlewriterThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. said...
Jul. 2, 2011 at 12:47 pm:
I love how you kept me on the edge and wraped my attention.
 
serendipitous615 replied...
Jul. 3, 2011 at 12:42 pm :

thank you! i'm glad that you liked it!

 

 
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tealbird said...
Jul. 1, 2011 at 5:46 pm:
I LOOOVE this! Writing emotion in a convincing manner has always been someting that, up until now, I've struggled with and always wondered how someone could master it...you have my praises. This was raw, and bold, and purely beuautiful writing!
 
serendipitous615 replied...
Jul. 3, 2011 at 12:42 pm :
Thank you so much! I really appreciate your feedback! Keep writing and you’ll get it down! :)
 
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