The young maiden, with a frown deepening the lines on her brow, looked out the small window of the cottage where the cattle grazed peacefully in the distance. The warm spring air carried the scent of blooming flowers, but her mood was far from the lightness of the season. The children around her, all wide-eyed and leaning forward eagerly, waited in anticipation for her to begin.

She sighed softly, her gaze drifting back to the children, and began, “It all began with an encounter with that jer… I mean a certain individual.” A small smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth, but it quickly faded. “This is a love story between two individuals who never got to love each other.”

The children exchanged puzzled looks, but she continued, her voice quieter now, almost as if she were speaking more to herself than to them. “A place devoid of laughter and sun… that’s where the naïve little lady was born. The first time she gazed at the sky was when she escaped her place of birth, disobeying her caretaker. With nothing in her possession, she knew she’d be caught sooner or later, either by her caretaker or some dark force lurking in the shadows.”

The maiden’s hands clenched in her lap, her voice tightening with the memory. “Her heart pounded with fear as she fled, knowing that her newfound freedom could be ripped away at any moment. She hadn’t even been gone an hour, but she could sense them already on her trail. Desperation led her to the market, hoping to lose herself in the crowd, to buy herself a little more time. But after two days on the run, with no food and no rest, her strength began to wane.”

Her eyes darkened, and the children leaned in closer, captivated by the tension in her voice. “She found refuge in an abandoned building, one that looked as though it had long been forgotten. Ghosts, creatures of darkness… whatever might reside there, it was safer than being caught by her pursuers.”

The maiden paused, staring off into the distance as if seeing that place again, feeling the same cold fear. The children, silent now, waited for her to continue, sensing that the tale was far from over.

The maiden’s voice softened as she continued, the frown easing slightly as she lost herself in the story. “Desperate to find a safe spot in that abandoned house, she stumbled upon a wine cellar hidden deep in the basement. It was completely empty, a perfect place to hide secrets—and herself. She hoped her pursuers would give up and leave her be, but in her panic, she forgot about her grumbling tummy. Exhaustion overtook her, and before she knew it, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep on the cold cellar floor.”

The children were immersed in the story. She paused for a minute and flicked a kid's head and asked "What would you do Ellie? If you were in her place?"

Ellie laughed and answered, "I would search for the ghosts and befriend them to chase and scare the scary people away!!! Boom and baam!." "This little lady in the story was not as smart as you Ellie, she didn't realize ghosts could help her too."

"Diving back into the story."

Her voice grew quieter, almost as if she were recalling a memory too close for comfort. “When she opened her eyes, she found herself no longer on the hard ground, but on a soft cushion, a bed, in a well-cleaned room. The walls and the ceiling were familiar, the cracked plaster and aged wood—it was the same haunted house where she had hidden the day before. But now, everything is different. Books were spread out on a study table in the corner, and food, fresh and warm, was placed on a small table as if it were waiting just for her.”

The children listened in rapt silence as the maiden continued. “Panic seized her heart. Was this a trick? Had her pursuers found her after all? But if it were them, they would have locked her up, taken her back by force… yet here she was, unharmed and unbound. Hunger gnawed at her, louder and more insistent than her fear. She hesitated only a moment before giving in. She devoured the food, barely tasting it, just needing to feel the strength return to her limbs.”

She paused, as if seeing the scene play out before her eyes. “Once she had eaten, she noticed something else—clothes, new and finely made, neatly folded on a chair beside the bed. Her own rags, worn thin by days of running, hung off her thin frame. She didn’t think twice. She quickly changed into the new clothes, her heart leaping with a small, hesitant joy. For the first time, she wore something decent, something beautiful, finer than anything she had ever seen. She felt like a little bird given new feathers.”

The maiden’s lips twitched into a small smile, then faded. “Curiosity got the better of her, and she began to explore the house, searching for whoever might have helped her. But no one was there. The rest of the house was just as she had found it the day before—empty, decaying, as if abandoned for years. Except for that one room, there was no sign of life, no trace of anyone living there.”

Her voice grew quiet, almost a whisper. “Fatigue overcame her once more, and she fell asleep again, the mysteries of the house gnawing at the edges of her dreams. When night fell, something woke her—a faint creak of the door, so quiet she might have imagined it. Silence followed for several minutes. Then, another creak. She stirred, groggy and thirsty, and as she rose to quench her thirst, she saw it—a shadow, a figure moving out in the yard. Her heart raced with fear, but strangely, she felt no harm from it, no threat. Just… a presence.”

She glanced at the children, their wide eyes fixed on her. “She relaxed, her fear fading away, and after drinking her fill, she returned to bed, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep once more.”

The room was quiet, the children holding their breath as they waited for what would happen next, but the maiden paused, her thoughts elsewhere, as if the tale were still unfolding in her own mind.

The maiden’s voice trembled as she continued, the children hanging on every word. “The next morning, when the young woman awoke, she found a fresh supply of food on the table and a new set of clothes laid out for her, just like the day before. It puzzled her—this unseen benefactor who provided for her without revealing themselves. She wondered if it could be the same shadowy figure she had glimpsed in the yard the previous night.

“She had no choice but to accept these offerings. Her body was still weak from days of running, and the food was a necessity. But she resolved to meet this shadow, to thank them for their strange generosity. She decided to stay awake that night, determined to uncover the mystery of her unseen host.

“As the sun dipped below the horizon and the moon took its place high in the sky, she waited, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and anticipation. The hours passed slowly, and just when she began to think she might fall asleep despite herself, she heard it—the sound of footsteps echoing from the hallway. They were slow, deliberate, growing closer with each step. Halfway down the hall, the footsteps stopped. She heard the clink of glasses, followed by a stretch of silence that felt like it might last forever.

“She held her breath, every muscle in her body tensed. Then, the footsteps resumed, this time louder, more purposeful, heading straight toward her door. Her heart raced, her instincts screaming at her to flee, but she was paralyzed with fear. These weren’t the movements of some ghostly entity—this was a person.

“The footsteps stopped just outside her door. She heard the faint creak as it began to open. She wanted to run, to scream, to do anything but lie there frozen, but she couldn’t move. She was completely immobilized, gripped by a terror so deep it rooted her to the spot.

“And then, she heard it—a deep voice, low and steady, cutting through the silence like a knife. ‘So you were awake?’ it said.

“Her eyes widened in terror and shock. That voice—it triggered something within her, a memory she had buried deep, one that she had tried so hard to forget. It was a trauma response to her past, a life she had fled from, one filled with pain and fear. She trembled uncontrollably, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She shut her eyes tight, bracing herself for the blows she was sure would come, just as they had so many times before.

“But the blows never came. Instead, she heard the voice again, this time closer, right in front of her. ‘Miss?’ it asked, softer now, almost as if it were concerned.

“She didn’t dare open her eyes, didn’t dare look at the figure she could feel towering over her. He was large, his presence overwhelming, and her body shook with fear. But there was something different about this voice, something that didn’t quite match the cruelty she remembered. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to move, to speak. Her past had taught her that any sign of defiance would only make things worse.

“But the figure didn’t move to strike her. Instead, he remained still, waiting. When she didn’t respond, he spoke again, even more gently, ‘Are you hurt?’."