Her Runaway Prince

She started to think to herself. She’d realized that he had a strange accent, she guessed European. He was obviously not from anywhere close to here because the cold was affecting him more than it would any local. So what was a foreigner doing there, in this small isolated town? What was he doing wearing a suit in the middle of the night in the middle of the woods? What secrets was he hiding? She felt her curiosity grow. The more she thought about it, the more questions arose. And the more her curiosity about him grew, the more she felt attracted to him. She quickly forced the thoughts away.

I’m just tired, that’s all it is, she told herself. However, she still couldn’t stop the questions. Finally, the curiosity got too much for her.

“So, Peter, where are you from?” she asked him warmly.

Peter’s smile quickly disappeared. She realized that something bad must have happened. That he was trying to escape a past, which was something she could relate to.

“It’s getting a little late and I’m feeling a tad tired, do you mind if I go to bed? I’m sorry,” he replied. His voice sounded robotic. It sounded like an automatic response. Amanda realized she’d struck a nerve about something he wasn’t ready to talk about yet. She smiled softly and motioned him to his room.

“Right over there, number three. Hope you sleep well.” She stood up and walked him to his room. Peter smiled at her and shook her hand again.

“Thank you so much for this. Thank you for the delicious soup as well, and the great conversation,”Peter told her.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. Thank you for quite the entertaining night,” she replied.

Peter gave her one more smile before entering his room and closing the door behind him.

Amanda walked herself back to the fireplace and replayed the events in her head. Just who was this Peter Michaels? She sat down in front of the fire and started to lose herself in her mind.

Was he some kind of witness to a crime? Maybe he was a gangster who’d realized the life of crime wasn’t meant for him, turned on his bosses and then ran away. Maybe he got lost and that’s how he ended up at her cottage. Except, then he would have some kind of weapon. And he would be too paranoid. So no, that wasn’t the answer, she decided.

Maybe he was an up-and-coming actor who’d decided to go full method for his role in some new survival movie. He wanted firsthand experience of the woods and ended up getting lost. Except, then he would have asked about phoning someone or at least tried to promote the movie. She continued to ponder.

There was a definite mysterious aura about him. She knew he wasn’t just any ordinary man. She couldn’t explain it, but something about him just shouted “CAUTION!” whilst also inviting her in so sweetly.

Maybe he was a prince from some far away land who’d come here looking for his Cinderella. And maybe that’s why he’d come to her. Maybe the magic mirror told him to seek her out and now he wanted her to be his queen. She shook her head and laughed at herself.

Even if that were true, it’s not like she could actually accept. She’d built herself a life here and she was extremely happy with it. Then again, why was she even trying justify herself rejecting a fantasy?

She had to laugh at herself. Sometimes she amazed herself. Not only was she dreaming up fantasies, but trying to decline their offers too. Her mind was truly strange sometimes. She decided that she needed some rest too because her mind was running wild with all sorts of ideas. She stood up and walked to her room. Inside, she sat down on her bed and took the framed picture of her grandmother in her hands.

“Nana, I remember how I could always bring all sorts of friends to your house and somehow you’d always find a way to help them, even when neither I nor they knew they needed help. How did you always manage to seek out these hurt souls and fix them? Is that why he came here? Is that why he found this place? Is he a lost soul needing a home? Are you still around here, Nana, eager to welcome all those who need a new lease on life? Should I try and help him? Will I ever even see him again? You always told me that everything had a reason, that the Lord didn’t believe in coincidences. Is that what this is, Nana? Is that why you left this old home to me? Is that why you told me I’d find my purpose here? Is this my purpose? Is it my turn to give a hurt soul a home where they can heal?” she asked the picture, tears streaming down her cheeks.

She could sense the hurt in Peter’s voice. She’d seen the pain in his eyes. He was running from something, and despite all her fantasies she knew the feeling all too well.

When she’d first come back to her grandmother’s old cottage, she too was running away from a past she couldn’t escape fast enough. The walls of the aging building became a safe haven for her as she rebuilt herself. And now this stranger had suddenly appeared. She was used to visitors. Despite how humble she made the place out to be, she was quite busy during holiday seasons. The woods were famous for their beauty and people always needed a place to sleep. Yet, those were people who meant to be there. Peter was different…

He’d come there not searching for anything yet finding the place. She realized she was probably being naive and stupid, but she couldn’t shake the feeling.

She was tired. She was missing her grandmother. She was empathetic to Peter’s pain. She felt so emotional and she couldn’t explain why.

Maybe she’d been alone and closed off for so long that she’d forgotten what it felt like to form an emotional connection with someone. Maybe it was close to her time of the month and she was just hormonal. Maybe she saw herself in Peter. Maybe she empathised with him on a level that she couldn’t understand.

She lay in her bed and tried to sleep, but the thoughts wouldn’t leave her alone. She tossed, tumbled and turned in her bed but couldn’t get any rest. Fantasies and questions continued to play out in her mind. After about half an hour of struggling, she finally gave up.

She opened her eyes and took in the darkness surrounding her in the room. Amanda sat up slowly and switched on the light on her bedside table. She felt frustrated that she couldn’t get to sleep.

However, she took a deep breath, decided not to let restlessness get to her and stood up. She figured that maybe a walk to clear her mind along with a cup of tea might work.

For some reason that she couldn’t explain, she felt the need to approach Peter’s door. As she got closer, she heard faint sobbing. She put her ear to the door and listened intensely. She could hear him crying clearly now. She felt her heart melt. She knew there was something tragic about him and she was right, she realized. She let out a sigh and pulled herself away. She wanted to help, but knew she couldn’t. She barely knew him. He barely knew her. They were strangers to each other. And besides, she couldn’t just barge in. She had to try and ignore it.

Slowly she made her way to the kitchen. She lit the stove and put the kettle on. She leaned against the counter and let out a heavy sigh.

“Goddammit Amanda, what the hell is going on with you? You don’t even know this man,” she said to herself. She felt so emotional that she didn’t even notice her own blasphemy. She felt so conflicted and confused. She didn’t know Peter in any way, he was a total and absolute stranger. Yet, she felt this urge to help him. To fix him. Perhaps it was her grandmother’s spirit resonating from inside the walls of the little cottage, perhaps it was the empathic sensibilities instilled in her from her upbringing.