My story that doesn't have a name xD

britta~ Wed Apr 01, 2009 5:41 pm

Here's my story, or the first chapter. It doesn't have a name. I first posted this on Polyvore. I may not post more. Actually, I probably won't, so don't get excited or anything.

The street was normally a busy one. It ran down through the center of the small village and was usually bustling with horse-and-buggies carrying nobility and sidewalk-sweepers for the ladies.

But today, the street was desolate, empty, abandoned, most likely ... on account of the freezing rain that pounded the citizens' windows.

The only occupants of the street were two weary roadworkers and a girl. The roadworkers were called Terrebonne and Welle because everybody had forgotten their first names, even themselves.

They were tiredly pushing the dirty water and chunks of ice towards the sluice gates; they were so intent on their work that they did not notice a young girl of about 13 turn onto the street. The girl was dressed in a thin cloak and she carried a basket. Her arms were tucked into her body and her head down, so even if the workers had seen her, they wouldn't have been able to distinguish her. But she made no noise and seemed intent on getting to her destination without distraction.

Terrebonne and Welle were finishing up, sweeping the last wedges of muddy ice and gathering their cloaks around them. As they bid each other goodbye they couldn't help but notice the lock of white-blonde hair sticking out from the girl's cap as she hastily half-walked, half-ran down the street. Welle even turned for a better look, but by the time he focused on her, with his fatigued, bat eyes, it was too late. She had already turned a corner.

The girl stuffed her hair back under her cap and managed a look up. She was in a side alley, going the way she knew well, but tonight it seemed different. The shutters were drawn on the ramshackle houses so she had hardly any light to see by. At the end of the narrow alley she could see something on the ground. It was emitting a soft glow, almost undetectable.

She hastened towards it. Maybe it was one of those newfangled jewels everybody had been talking about, and she could pawn it, maybe for a present for Mae on her birthday, which was coming up soon. Gladdened by this thought, she quickened, and pretty soon she reached it. She bent down and put it in her hand, examining it.

It was a soft green, and when she put it in her hand, it brightened, if only slightly. Or maybe she was just imagining things. She shook her head and slipped it into her pocket. She would bring it to the pawnbroker tomorrow and see whether it was valuable or not. If it wasn't, she'd add it to her rock collection.

She cut through someone's scraggly backyard in her haste to get back. Luckily everyone was burrowed inside, so there was no one to chase her with a broom. She reached the back door of the servants' quarters and was met by an anxious, petite girl.

"The cook's in a bad mood today," murmured the girl. "Please be careful, Alex."

"Isn't he always," Alex muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes in an exasperated way. "I will, Violette," she said reassuringly.

Violette didn't look convinced but gave Alex a weak smile and looked on as Alex walked purposely towards the kitchen.

She slipped through the open doors of the kitchen, which, usually bustling, was, at this time, as desolate as the street. The only inhabitants of the room were the cook and the assistant, and now, Alex.

The cook was a mean man, with problems in his personal life, and liked to take it out upon the under servants and scullery maids. He wasn’t much above them but you would think he was the way he bossed and scolded them. He preferred to be called the Chef but no one called him that, even to his face. To be true, he did prepare good meals, but what was that to stop his callousness?

The assistant, on the other hand, was kindhearted and helpful. He had schooling when he was small, so he knew how to read, and often read fanciful stories to the servants at night, when they were all supposed to be sleeping. He gave Alex a quick wink and a look that clearly said be careful.

Alex tiptoed past the cook, who was intent on his brew, and carefully set the basket on the cluttered counter. She ran on light feet out of the room, thinking she had escaped unnoticed, but then a voice called out: “Alexandriea Stern!”

Alex sighed and went back into the kitchen to find the cook staring angrily at her. She bobbed a curtsy. “Yes, sir?” she asked with trepidation.

“What took you so long?” His voice was calm but his face betrayed his irritation. “I was expecting you half an hour ago! I let the brew sit and now it will definitely not be as good. Because of you!” By now his face was getting red.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m sure your soup will be amazing.” Alex knew from experience that lavish praise was the best way to go. “It’s just that… there was a long line as the townsfolk wished to get their herbs before the night fell.” The cook grunted, which probably meant that Alex was hitting the right spot. “I got you the best herbs the market had to offer, sir. I hope you are satisfied.” She went over to the counter and handed him the basket. He didn’t give Alex any words of approval but dumped the contents into his brew. He nodded.

Alex, taking this as a dismissal, rushed out of the room. She wanted to get to the servants’ quarters and claim a space before all the wanderers came in. Her fingers trailed across the coarse wood walls. As she reached a particularly bumpy part, she withdrew her hand quickly. “Ouch!” She had received a splinter. She quickly sucked it out.

Her fingers, instead of going back to the wall, slipped into her pocket as she traveled to the quarters. She drew out the stone she had picked up earlier. The glow had dampened in the flickering candlelight, but it was still slightly noticeable. Alex examined it carefully. Now she noticed the dark green and brown spots that lined its circumference and, more curiously, a thin, barely discernible crack from tip to tip.

She heard the sound of whispering and slipped the stone back into her pocket. She entered the servants’ corners, which, to her disappointment, was extremely full. Her face fell.

“Sorry, Alex, it’s all filled up,” little Bonnie said apologetically. “I tried to save a spot for you, but of course Leyla had to bring her friend.” She glowered at an older girl next to her who in turn stared haughtily back.

Alex shrugged. “Whatever. I’ll see if Mae has accommodations.”

So she walked through the back door of the quarters after assuring Bonnie she would be fine and bidding her goodbye. She looked back at the low, long brick building and heaved a sigh. Then she walked towards the edge of the village.

The rain was letting up, now, but there was still a lot of mud, so Alex was soaking socks and dirtying her boots. She quickened her pace, afraid that in this cold she would get a fever.

When she finally reached the small shack, the sky was dark, almost pitch-black, with heavy cloud cover. She knocked on the door tentatively. A few minutes later (she had probably risen them from bed) a tall dark-haired girl opened.

“Evening, Margarethe.” The girl nodded. “May I stay here for tonight? I was late in picking up the cook’s herbs and the quarters were full.” Alex looked hopefully up at her.

Margarethe nodded. “Would you like to sleep in Maertge’s room?” she asked, with all the airs of nobility. Margarethe fancied being a lady-in-waiting someday, and Mae and Alex giggled about it behind her back.

“Yes, please.”

Margarethe led Alex to a small room, where Mae sat up in bed, blinking blearily at Alex. “Oh, hello, Drie,” Mae said sleepily. Mae was the only person Alex let call her Drie.

Alex smiled up at Margarethe, signaling for her to leave. “Thank you very much for your kindness, ma’am.” Margarethe inclined her head and walked out of the room.

Alex grinned at Mae, who seemed almost awake by now. As soon as they heard Margarethe climb into bed, Alex yanked a blanket from the closet and sat down on the ground, cross-legged. She appraised Mae for a second then took out her stone.

Mae jumped onto the ground, knees first. Wincing, she said, “oh! What is that?”

“I don’t know,” confessed Alex. “I found it on the ground just now. I’m going to take it to the pawnbroker’s tomorrow, to see if it’s worth anything.”

“May I see it?” Mae asked eagerly, holding out her hands. Alex obliged. Mae leaned forward with a frown on her face, tracing something on the surface of the stone. “Did you see? There is a crack here,” she remarked. But her smile brightened. “Do not worry, it is not of consequence,” she said happily. “The crack is hair-thin, it would still probably be worth a lot.”

“I suppose so,” Alex said with a verbal shrug. “That is, if it was worth anything in the first place. Anyway, promise not to tell anyone?”

“Of course,” Mae said. But Alex’s trusting smile faltered as she saw the grin that was growing on Mae’s face. Was she right to tell her that? Just in case, after she was sure Mae had fallen asleep, she put it in her old jewelry box and locked it. “Finally, a use for it,” she thought before she fell asleep as well, exhausted.