Emilia Soames Psychic Detective Chapter 4

I quickly switched my mind off any thoughts off Nick,If he was alive and captive, were they hurting him> Were they starving him? The thought s were too painful for me to contemplate.

It was in this little hole in the ground that I started my pretend life. Lots of pretend lives in fact,., and they all had happy endings., and they were all I had in this God forsaken place.

From time to time I heard noises which appeared, from my vantage point underground, to be full scale wars going on over my head. Then the skirmishes would stop and it would be quiet again. I felt sometimes there were animals over the top of me and from the smell, there probably were.

I had no way of knowing how long I had been in my prison, when one day the trapdoor opened, a rug was dragged away and I could see light. Someone was shining a lantern into my small cave. It hurt my eyes, and I had to close them. It seemed such a long time since I had seen light, any light.
I badly wanted to cry. Now what? Were they planning to take me somewhere to kill me? Well, I thought, it might be preferable to what I had.
For what seemed like an eternity, the light held steady shining into the hole. Then there was a scurrrying of feet and lots of voices shouting in a language I had no hope of understanding. I wasn’t sure I would understand my own language if I heard it. They were human voices. After so long in silence except for the animals, I wanted desperately to talk, and talk, and talk to anyone who would listen.
That was not to be, because the people who rescued me didn’t understand me any better than I understood them.
When I was first lifted out of my prison, I could not see at first. The light hurt my eyes, I had been so long in darkness. When I did eventually manage to open my eyes I saw that I had in fact been under the goat and sheep pen, which accounted for the noises I had heard, and some of the smell at least.
My rescuers were packing Mules and Yaks for the trip to their homeland, and I was unceremoniously lifted onto a mule. I wasn’t tied or shackled. For the first time in a very long time I felt a slight swelling of hope in my heart., they only wanted to save me.!!

The caravan of sheep, goats, mules and Yaks accompanied by men, women and myself, travelled by day and rested by night. Under the stars tents were pitched and food was cooked.
On the first night when I was lifted from my mule, there was no way I could get off myself I was so weak, waves of fatigue and nausea swept over me.
One of the ladies with the caravan, one of the wives, I presumed, came and brought me from the mule to one of the tents, I leaned on her heavily.
There was a canvas ‘thing’ on a wooden cradle in the middle of the tent and she filled it with water which was slightly steaming.
Another lady came toward me with a huge pair of what looked like shearing clippers. I backed away afraid for my life, surely I hadn’t been rescued just to be killed. The lady laughed shyly and holding a piece of her own long black shining hair mimed that she would cut it off. I got the drift. She was going to cut my hair with the shears, which were probably more often used for shearing the sheep and the goats.
Well, I thought, there really is nothing else to do with my filthy matted hair but cut it off. I resigned myself to the woman’s tender administrations.
When the matted mess lay on the floor and while one woman was gathering it up to burn it, three other women led me to the ‘bath’ because that was what it turned out to be. They gave me a pair of knickerlike garments to wear whilst bathing. I found out later that nudity was not acceptable to them.
They gently coaxed me to step in. Without my stinking garments I felt very vulnerable, but I was also desperate to feel soft warm water on my skin. They ;proceeded to bathe me like they would a small baby.. Although I felt awkward at first about the humiliation of being bathed, after all I hadn’t been bathed by anyone else but myself
since my nanny stopped doing it when I was around 10 years of age. I actually started to think it was quite nice to be pampered again as if a child and gave myself up to their gentle care.

Emilia Soames Psychic Detective Chapter 4


Co Durham, United Kingdom

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