Garnet or Garnets Curse

place to hide me; a place hidden from mankind and a place where not even the curse of Aurochs or her son could find me.
    I felt that if I stood there for a period longer I would vanish into the landscape. I took the flight of steps embedded into the hillside down to the beach. Walking down them was not an easy task. They were steep and slippery and the handrails were rickety. When I reached the last step, I sat down and removed my shoes, so that my feet could sink into the soft warm sand.
    For several hours, I walked the shore, seeing in the distance only a few cottages and an occasional boat bobbing up and down in the ocean. It was easy to find my way back, for my footprints were the only ones in the sand.
    There was a chill in the air, but as Arlene had said, I found the ocean was refreshing. If it were not for the sad state of my domestic dwelling, I could have found peace in that solitude until my father returned.
    The bathing dress was dry by the time I arrived back at the house. With soft steps, I crept back in the house and returned it to its hook in the washroom. It was a delight to bathe and wash the salt out of my hair. With my wet hair hanging loose, I stepped out in the hall.
    There was a warm smell of something cooking in the kitchen. My small breakfast was long gone and I was hungry. Feeling hopeful, I opened the kitchen door. On the stove was a pot of unattended beans boiling over. I grabbed a cloth and set the pot aside. If this was lunch, I felt entitled to it, since my father had paid for my room and board. I looked in the cupboard, took out a bowl and dipped out a reasonable-size serving.
    After eating, I investigated the first floor of the house. The fine dining room led into the parlor, which consisted of an upholstered settee and two matching armchairs. The dark velvet curtains allowed only a small slice of sunlight to sparkle through the dust particles. When my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I saw a painting of a beautiful woman hanging over the mantel. She was dressed in the old-world style with an expression of nobility on her face. For some time I stood below her staring into her glazed eyes.
    Across the hall was an impressive library with shelves of fine literature. In the center of the room was a grand piano, which convinced me that this house was once home to an elegant family. I contemplated who the family could have been and if Nell was a remnant of that past.
    The clock struck two, which reminded me of Arlene’s promise to visit my room. Any bit of comfort she might offer I was eager to accept. Hoping I had not missed her, I hurried down the hall. Just as I passed Arlene ’ s room, the door opened and Nell stepped out, causing me to gasp.
    I held my head down and tried to pass by her without eye contact, but she put her thick arm up against the wall to block my passage. “ What ’ s the matter, Margo? ” she asked, knowing I was embarrassed seeing her standing before me naked from the waist up.
    It was not only her hanging massive bosoms that I found shocking, but also, the engraved ink drawings covering the majority of her torso.
    “ Have you never seen a woman with tattoos?” she asked.
    “ No Ma ’ am, I have not, ” I replied. In fact, until that moment I had never seen anyone with tattoos. My only knowledge of such was from books.
    She spun around quickly to show me her back. Every inch of skin was engraved with drawings, strange symbols and a figure of a naked woman as the focal point. The site made me nauseous and I closed my eyes.
    “Beautiful ain’t it,” she said, taunting me.
    I responded the best way I could without lying, “An artist has to have a steady hand to do that sort of work.”
    “You are right to recognize it as an art form. I learned the art of tattooing when I was in the Polynesian Islands. Without warning, she reached up and stroked the side of my face with her rough hand. “I can just imagine how nice a red rose would look tattooed on this velvet skin,” she said, as her eyes wandered over my body.
    I had been victim of street men looking at my person in such a matter, but this was even more vulgar. It was not easy to hide my fear and it seemed to delight her. “For you I will lay a nice tattoo for free, if you let me pick the spot,” she said, fumigating the air with her whisky breath.
    “No thank you,” I replied, and ducked under her arm to escape. I cringed as one of her large jiggling breasts tapped me on the head.
    “No?” she