Ashes

This is a short story about a little girl living in a post-modern, part-fantasy world. Loosely based on what our future could be like, but I didn't set any strict guidelines for myself while writing.

Not much time had past since the bells last rang, and they were ringing again, the clanging sound echoing ominously through streets and alleyways, making its way through the entire town.  Huddled in her bedroom, she heard the noise and drew a deep, shuddering breath. She burrowed deeper beneath her covers, and buried her head of course, black hair beneath a lumpy pillow.  And even though her heart was still beating quickly, and her hands sweating, she had fallen asleep within minutes, her tiny body curled into a tight ball.  

By the time I woke in the morning, it was midmorning and warm sunlight streamed through the grimy window.  I stretched out luxuriously on her cot, yawning loudly before finally stumbling to her feet.  This was her only day off work, and she intended to enjoy it.  I even found myself humming as I pulled on my dark grey trousers and shirt, and pulled my tangled hair into a knot at the back of my neck.  

     The tavern was not loud, and I managed to duck out the back door without my boss spotting me.  The town was quiet, too, with just a couple dirty men hawking their goods on street corners.  The w****s smiled lazily at me, their made-up faces white against their grimy necks, and their full breasts straining against tight corsets.  It's such a quiet day that the pickpockets haven't emerged yet - truly a rarity.  

     Branken yelled a hello to me as I walked by his cart, and I strolled up to take a look at the wares that he undoubtedly stole yesterday.  There are the usual: a couple of necklaces, a bracelet, some random beads, and some rings.  He also had a small book, a wig, and a bunch of odd-looking coins.  I picked one up and looked at it more closely. 

     "Now, those," he said, nodding emphatically, "Those are some fairly interesting merchandise.  Found 'em out by an alley in the Antique District." 

     I flipped it over.  One side was inscribed with some unfamiliar characters, and the other had a picture of a dragon's head pressed onto it.  The coins were light, and somewhat flimsy, and made out of a dark grey metal that had rusted considerably.  "What do you think they are?" I asked.  

     He shrugged his shoulders.  "Haven't a f*****g clue, to be honest.  Might be some kind of foreign currency, or sometimes groups give those out as a sign of membership. Doesn't really matter, one way or another.  They certainly seem to be old enough." 

     "How much are you charging?" 

     "Figured three quarters for the five of them," he said.  

     "Fucked if I've got that much to toss away," I said regretfully, and set the coins down. Admittedly, they were probably nowhere near the value that Branken was trying to charge for them, but there was something interesting and mystical about them.  I only had a few dollars, though, and they were already stretched tight - I had just gotten my week's pay, and had to feed myself as well as pay rent.  

     "Your loss, someone else's gain," he said, with a gracious incline of his head. 

     "Keep telling yourself that, Branken," I laughed, and waved as I strode away, the road dust puffing up around my feet with each step I took.  

She is scared.  The man came to her room in the morning, not long after the bells had finished ringing.  He lifted her out of bed, and shook her.  His voice was harsh and angry.  She couldn't understand what he was saying to her; she cried out and writhed, and beat him with her fists.  For her efforts, she earned herself a slap in the face.  Finally, he left her, muttering angrily, and she curled up again, trembling with fear.  

     

Author's Note

Tell me what you think, please :) I'm thinking of turning this into a short story, but I'd like to get some feedback on the first bits before I go to town on the editing.

Reviews

[r.r. krueck]

You need to focus on a narrative perspective. You jump back and forth between first person and third. Work on your narratives.