Her Bucket-List

"One bottle of Noir Wine, please." said the woman clad in green to the bartender.

"Sure, Miss." he replied, making sure he remained polite. He definitely did not want to piss that lady off. She may be beautiful, but he valued his life a whole lot more than those youngsters who had thought that she would be an easy woman to take to bed. He hadn't seen what she had done to them, but the look of absolute horror on their faces on their face and their badly bruised bodies was more than enough to make the message clear to him: Stay away from her and she would stay away from you.

It had been two days since that young woman had come to stay at the inn, and she was holed up in her room for most of the day, coming down just for lunch and alcohol.

He poured the wine into a glass and made sure that there were no defects in it, he didn't want the lady to kill him because he gave her wine in a defective cup.

He walked to the woman and gave her her wine and had nearly headed to the next customer when she said: "I'm pretty sure I asked for a bottle of wine, not a glass."

He stood dead in his tracks, his mind working at full speed. How could he forget something like that? He was an idiot, he decided.

"I'm so sorry, Miss. I shall get your bottle right away!" he said quickly and half ran into the storage room.

"What's his problem?" mumbled the woman looking a little confused.

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

"Great, so I kill that man and run away to the capital successfully, but the only thing I can think of doing now is drinking myself drunk. Seriously, I'm an idiot." grumbled the frustrated woman to herself.

Around her, in the tiny room with just a bed, small cupboard and a table, there lay several bottles of wine on the floor, some glass shards glittered like stars in the dim light of the lamp.

The woman chuckled to herself, she really was pathetic she decided. She had thought she would do something productive in this time, yet here she lay - half drunk on a bed in an inn, because she was still afraid. She wasn't sure of what, though.

Half dragging herself, she moved to the table and seated herself on the chair. She took out the pocket book and pen she had bought from a market-place in Liburn. With the pen in her hand and the pocket book before her she imagined herself still tied up in her old life, with no freedom to do what she wanted. Sighing she closed the book. She hadn't escaped from that nightmare yet; she never would. Their invisible shackles still remained on her, preventing her from doing what she wanted to do.

"I won't let then win. It's funny how even after his death, he manages to torment me." she thought to herself. "Well, if I can't think of what I want to do, then I will do exactly what they didn't want me to do."

Slowly, an almost phantom smile appeared on her lips. She now knew what to do. She opened the book and began scribbling down a long list of things she wanted to do, see, read, feel and experience in her life.

"This shall be my 'bucket list'."said the woman.

And the first thing she had written on it was: Read a sinful romance novel.