Jennifer Miller
Stories
10
Chapters
2,335
Words
302.3 K
Comments
0
Reading
1 d, 1 h
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Zafron's heart raced as he watched the twins approach the house. He considered hiding, but realized it was too late. Taking a deep breath, he decided to face them directly. As they reached the porch, he opened the door, putting on his most casual demeanor. "Can I help you ladies?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe. The twins exchanged surprised glances. Giselle, the bolder of the two, spoke first. "Oh! We thought... well, we saw movement and thought there might be an intruder." Zafron…-
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Zafron sat by the window, absently nibbling on a "Honey Oat Twist" - a handmade snack he had perfected during his stay. Once, he had relished its sweet and nutty flavor, but now, after countless batches, it tasted bland and uninspiring. His face was etched with worry, deep furrows lining his forehead as his eyes constantly darted towards the front door. Days had passed since Mara's last visit, and it felt like an eternity since he'd seen Mistress Matilda. The silence of the house, once peaceful, now…
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The sun had barely peeked over the horizon when Mara stirred from her fitful sleep. Despite the lingering unease from her encounter with Gustavo the night before, she forced herself out of bed. As one of Mistress Matilda's personal maids, her day started earlier than most in the mansion. Mara dressed quickly in her crisp uniform, smoothing out any wrinkles with practiced hands. She pulled her hair back into a neat bun, not a strand out of place. Appearance was everything in Mistress Matilda's eyes, and…
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The sun had long since set by the time Mara bid farewell to Zafron. The journey back to the mansion was shrouded in darkness, the moon hidden behind a veil of clouds. Mara's steps were quick and light as she made her way through the silent grounds, her heart still light from the day's adventures. As she approached the servants' entrance, Mara paused, listening intently for any sign of movement within. Hearing nothing, she carefully eased the door open and slipped inside. The familiar corridors of the…
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303 •
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As they teetered and laughed for a moment, all too soon, the fun came to an end as Mara's face grew serious. "Um, Zafron," she said, biting her lip. "I don't mean to be a bother, but could I use your bathroom? I've been here for hours, and I didn't want to ask earlier." "Of course!" Zafron said, gesturing towards the hallway. "You know your way, right? It's the second door on the left. I'll be here when you get back." Mara returned a few minutes later, looking sheepish. "Sorry about that," she said.…
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Mara's intense gaze softened slightly, and she let out a small sigh. "Madame Matilda sent me to check on you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "She wanted to make sure you're doing alright and to ask if you needed anything." Zafron felt a mix of relief and disappointment wash over him. He had hoped for more information, some explanation for his current situation, but it seemed that even Mara was keeping things close to the vest. "I'm... managing," Zafron replied, trying to keep his tone…
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The soft morning light filtered through the curtains as Zafron stirred in his new bed. For a moment, he felt disoriented, but the events of the past couple of days quickly came flooding back. He was in his temporary home, hidden away for reasons still unclear to him. Over the past 48 hours, Zafron had settled into a tentative routine. The initial shock and confusion had given way to a wary acceptance of his situation. He'd spent time exploring every nook and cranny of the house, familiarizing himself…
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The cart came to a stop at the edge of a narrow path. Matilda stepped out first, her movements graceful despite her evident distress. She turned to Zafron, her voice low but commanding. "Follow me." Zafron scrambled out after her, the package still clutched tightly in his hands. As they started down the path, he realized why the cart could go no further. The road had given way to a rough trail, barely wide enough for two people to walk abreast. The night air was cool and damp, filled with the…
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The sun was dipping below the horizon as Zafron made his way back to the mansion, a neatly folded package of cloth tucked under his arm. Cordelia's parting words still echoed in his mind as he approached the imposing structure. As he pushed open the heavy front door, an unusual stillness greeted him. The typically bustling halls he left was eerily quiet, save for the soft murmur of hushed voices. Zafron stepped inside cautiously, his footsteps echoing in the silence. He made his way through the dimly…
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Suddenly, a wave of overwhelming anxiety crashed over Zafron. The intimacy of the moment, the charged atmosphere, and the realization of his position all hit him at once. His eyes widened, and he took an involuntary step back, his face paling as if he'd seen a ghost. 'This isn't right. I shouldn't be here. I'm just a slave, and she's... she's...' His thoughts raced, a chaotic whirlwind of confusion and panic. The opulent room seemed to close in around him, suffocating in its grandeur. Without a word,…
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