Ms. Otherworldly (actually known as Riley) is passionate about blogging, filming, and writing in the genres of fantasy, drama, and slice of life. She has a YouTube channels, Otherworldly Fiction, where she discusses writing and fantasy books, and a BookTok where she shares her favourite books. Her main project is the fantasy series, The Children of Pandora, though she also writes short stories and spin off books on Tapas and Wattpad. When she isn't writing, blogging, or reading, she's cuddling her cat, Posie (who's many nicknames include "Fuzz," "Fuzzers," "Poser," "Kitten Mittens," and so on).
The man had a yellow light behind his head. His skin was pale; auburn hair fell to his shoulders, and his eyes were sky blue. Devon turned to me. The man’s eyes reminded me of hers, and of Idgie’s. There was something...deeper in them?
I’m turning into an imbecile.
Devon motioned to other paintings which adorned the wall. In one, a man pulled the sun using a chariot. Beside him, a man with winged sandals flew. In another painting, an older man, with a raven on each shoulder and an empty eye socket, regarded us; he wore a wide hat, and, like the birds, a wolf sat on either side of him. Behind the man with the birds, a redhead stood; this figure, muscular and roaring, held a short hammer from which lightning shot.
On it went, with people casting spells, turning into animals, sprouting horns, or brewing potions. In one painting, a pale arm thrust itself from a lake to hold a sword out to a knight-like figure in a crown.
I paused to examine each picture.
“Know anyone?”
“No. Who are these people supposed to be?”
“Your fellow Gods, of course. This guy here is Loki. That’s Artemis. And this lady over here is Morgan Le Fey. Idgie and I had an argument about her.”
“Well, it’s just...they’re not exactly Gods, are they?”
“Arthur is supposed to be revived someday. That makes him sort of immortal. And Morgana was a witch.”
I turned away. “They don’t mean anything to me. The Gods might be real, but they’re disappointing. They’re like people, with dozens of pets, who realize they can’t control them. They’re not as organized, nor possibly even as caring, as you would like to believe.”
Devon squared her shoulders. “I believe in them. I dreamed of you, didn’t I? There was magic in that.”
“Magic and divinity aren’t synonymous.”
Devon shoved past me. Idgie took three steps, before sighing.
“It means so much to her.”
“You’re reprimanding me?”
“You don’t have to agree with her.” She softened her voice and met my gaze. “I don’t believe in all of it, myself. I believe even less than you. But I can respect her ideas. She means well.”
I exhaled, a long sad sound. “I’ve had enough. I’m tired of death, of magic, of people who don’t care.”
“Don’t be like that. You can live with us! I’ll give you clothes. Read weird books to you. It will be a ball.”
“Oh, sure. It’s not like your parents will notice a random stranger living at their house. It’s not as if they’ll be shocked to find an Elf sleeping in their bed.”
“Our parents...don’t really come here.”
A silence hung between us. I looked away, before meeting her eyes again. I bit my lip.
Devon reddened.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“We look after ourselves. I like it that way. We have to do the laundry, but that’s about it.” Devon towed me from the room, my clothes under one arm. “We’ll put a sleeping bag in the basement. I only got my stuff on one side of the room.”
“I am not sleeping in view of your porn.”
Devon chuckled. “No, it’s even better than that.” We went down the stairs, and then, from the house, down another set of stairs. These were directly below the higher set; I imagined they were lined up. It was cool, musty, and covered in concrete. It was also bright: candles caused the right half, as we stepped off the stairs, to glow. Idgie waited for us, dwarfed by a large painting.
Devon sat cross legged on the floor, eyebrows raised.
I sighed, sitting on the bed’s edge. “I believe in Genitrix. She’s the deity of my world. But I don’t worship her. I believe she’s real, but I hate her.”
“You’re a deitheist. That’s interesting, actually. Ironic, really, given what you are. You don’t hate yourself too?”
I flinched.
“And that...was supposed to be a joke.” She shook her head. “Are you okay?”
“No. Why should I be? I’m not obligated to be happy just because you want me to be.”
“I do want you to be happy. For your own sake. Just tell me what you want.”
“Stop calling me a God.” I stood up. “I’m just a person, and a worthless one at that. It would be better if I was dead.”
“That is seriously depressing. You’re a real downer, you know?”
“I never believed in mustering fake enthusiasm.”
“What are you so mad about? The guy who beat you up? But you got revenge on him!”
“That solves everything, doesn’t it? I won’t pretend it wasn’t satisfying to watch him scream. But if you think that fills me with boundless joy-”
“Whatever happened to you, I’m sorry.” Devon took my hands. She looked at them. “But you look pretty cool, so that’s something.”
“I look like an idiot.”
“Maybe. But you like it, right? That’s all that matters. You’ve got a style. Nobody else has to like it.”
I glanced down. “I am pleased with the aesthetic outcome.”
“Okay. But seriously, we need to work on the lingo.” Devon gathered up the other outfits I’d constructed. “You’ll wear these on other days?”
Devon had a massive closet which took up a hidden corner of the bedroom. She threw it open: clothes, all black, red, or yellow hung from the hangers. She rooted through the pile below, which was a mixture of the same colours with pink and gray interspersed throughout.
“Yuck.” Devon held up a pink crop top. “Can you believe I liked this colour? It looks great on Idgie. But it’s totally not me. I’m more into bloods and yellows, ya know? Here.”
She tossed clothes at random over her shoulder. From the scraps, I constructed several outfits—baggy dresses, crop tops, skirts short and long, fishnet stalkings, and a worn pair of pink sandals figured chiefly into the mix. A couple of the outfits were meant to be layered. I completed my current ensemble—a pink shirt tucked into a long rumpled skirt—with a pair of multicoloured knit gloves.
Devon snorted as I added to the pile: “You like legwarmers?”
“They’re among your clothes!”
“It was a phase, okay? Don’t judge me.” Devon smothered a giggle. “Wow, I guess we have something in common.”
“A mild psychosis?”
“We’re both kind of crazy, it’s true. I mean, we’d have to be to dress like we do.” Devon held up the legwarmers.
“I’m not wearing them currently.”
“Sorry. Not sorry. Still judging you. You’re gonna wear them eventually.”
“I made the gloves.” Idgie grimaced. “Um, they’re weird, right? Devon said they were weird.”
“No. And to prove it, I’ll wear them with every outfit.”
“Just don’t sweat. They’ll get gunky fast.” Devon steered me to a mirror. “You know what? We have to do your makeup next.”
“I’m not a doll.”
“Do your own, then. You’d like makeup, wouldn’t you? You enjoyed the clothes enough.”
I examined my reflection. I didn’t exactly look attractive or normal...but I did look slightly less homeless. Devon bounced up with a comb. I frowned, and she shook her head. Grinning, she combed my hair.
“This is an arduous process.”
“Arduous? You could just say ‘hard’. What are you, the walking dictionary?”
“Ow!”
“Sorry, but you’ve got some serious matting. Have you ever heard of a barber?”
“You’ve evidently heard of too many.”
“Ow. A girl can have short hair. It’s a thing. At least, it is on Earth.”
“We’re not in Kansas anymore.”
“Hang on a minute.” Devon set the brush down. Her brow furrowed as she pulled my hair back. “You don’t know what ‘Greek’ means, but you can quote from The Wizard of Oz? I don’t get it.”
“Is Kansas a real place?”
“Of course it’s real! As for Oz...well, I don’t know.” Devon’s fingers danced through my hair. “Do the Dreamlands exist? Does Wonderland or Neverland? I’d like to think so, but probably not.”
I bit my lip. “It was one of my mother’s books. She read them to me when I was...”
“You had a book by Frank L. Baum?”
“There was Tolkien and Rowling too, and somebody named C. S. Lewis.”
Devon gaped.
“Mom received the books from Grandpa. She only said he got them from elsewhere.”
“He got them from here!” Devon jumped on the spot. “Wow, we could probably meet him! He’s like you!”
“I’m not following.”
Devon pulled my hair into a braid, and tied the end with a ribbon. “He got the books from Earth. That’s where we are. And your world?”
“People always called the planet Altero.”
“Cool.”
“You’re far too calm about this.” I waved an arm. “You believe in fairy tales, in fortune telling, in religion?”
“Sure. Don’t you?”
I looked away. “That’s complicated. I don’t know if there’s a name for what I am.”
“Can you walk? I have to show you something.” Devon exited the room. Idgie sighed, and held out a hand. I took it.
“I’m sorry about her. She’s been waiting a long time.”
“I don’t believe in fate. We weren’t supposed to meet. We simply did. My dreams have told me that much.”
Idgie squeezed my hand. “I dreamed about you too. But...”
We stopped in the hallway. The only light filtered in from the bedrooms and the bathroom which sat between them both. The shelves in the hall were lined with books, with records and dusty tapes.
“You don’t have to stay. She’ll want you to, but...we can’t decide for you. If you decide to leave, I could give you my allowance. It’s not much, but maybe it could get you to Cranbrook. There isn’t much here.”
“Tell me about your dream.”
“That’s it. In the dream, we’re at the river and we meet you.”
“What happens afterwards?”
“Nothing. But...maybe we’ll see more now? I mean, if you’re here...”
I glanced down at myself. “She expects me to follow her around naked? She does realize I have tits?”
The dim light couldn’t conceal Idgie’s violent blush. It ran over her face like a mask and down to her neck. “Oh my god.”
“Fantastic.”
“Devon!”
“No, don’t-”
“What?” Devon stood at the foot of the stairs. “Are you coming or what?”
“We’ve been...well, could you come...it’s just...”
“Gee, Idgie.” She stomped up the stairs. “Just spit it out!”
“Clothes.” Idgie motioned towards me. “We forgot to...”
“Oh! That’s awkward!” Devon snickered. “You aren’t intimidated by a couple of girls? Let’s just raid my closet. I got a bunch of junk in there.”
“I didn’t say that.” I glowered at her. “It might interest you to know that I’ve killed a man.”
Devon was silent for several seconds. Then she shrugged. “The one who did this to you, I take it?”
“And you aren’t the least disturbed by having a killer on your bed?”
“If he did this to you, it was self defense.” Devon patted a wound, and I groaned. “He probably deserved it.”
“That’s besides the point. Ow!”
“Well, don’t squirm.”
“It’s okay.” Idgie reached for me, only to draw her hands back. “I’m sorry.”
My back, my arm, and even the bruises which lined my body were cleaned. When I’d been pasted in bandages and gauze, Idgie entered with a cheeseburger, fries, and a salad. Devon opened a tray, and Idgie set the plate down. The smell hit me, and the room spun. Devon caught me as I slumped forward. They placed three pillows behind me, so that I was sitting up, and a glass of milk was added to the victuals.
“You eat, and I’ll talk.”
“Fine, but only because I’ve decided to.” I seized the burger. Ketchup dribbled down my chin. Mayonnaise bled over my tongue, piling out with melted cheese. There was bacon over the beef; it crunched. I moaned.
“Well, I’m Devon and this is Idgie. But I’ve said that already.”
I glanced at the books which covered the bed. Idgie caught my eye, and smiled.
I averted my gaze.
Idgie picked a book up. “Devon is...very religious.”
“Sort of very religious.” She grinned. “The actual worshipers wouldn’t like the way I do it. I don’t know if there’s a word for what I am. I worship multiple gods and goddesses. I believe in them all.”
“She worships Jesus some days...and Zeus on others.” Idgie shrugged. “She thinks they’re all real. And then...there’s you.”
“Yeah, so we had a dream about you.”
I set the burger down.
“I’ve been having them for a while. We’ve been coming to the river nearly every day. We knew that’s where you’d be, if it worked out.”
I looked between them. “What would have happened if it didn’t work out?”
“I had the dream.” Idgie’s voice was soft. “You were in a city of rain. Blue skinned men seized you, and dragged you away. Then you were on an island, and they threw you into the water. And...”
“And?” I arched my eyebrows. “I die?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Idgie bowed her head. “It didn’t happen like that.”
“You dream of multiple futures.”
“You still want to know.” Devon rolled her eyes. “You got eaten by sharks and the water went bloody.”
“I didn’t mention that part.”
“It’s not hard to imagine, Idgie.”
“Wonderful.” I took another bite. I ignored the sauce which fell down my towel. Within five minutes, the burger was gone. It took me another three to finish the fries, two to dispatch the salad, and five seconds for the milk.
I belched.
“It was supposed to happen this way. For whatever reason, we’ve been drawn together.”
“What a load of shit.” I wiped my face on the towel. “I’m not special.”
“I don’t know what Pantheon you’re from. Are you Greek? I don’t think so, but-”
“You’re delusional. I don’t even know what ‘Greek’ means.”
“You must know the other Gods.”
“I’m not a God.” I pushed the tray away. “I’m an Elf! I’m nobody!”
The house was blue, the nearest door sheltered beneath a carport. We had to go through two doors to reach the laundry room, and then we went through a third door to reach the kitchen. The kitchen segued into the dining room. I tried to take everything in—the closed doors, the living room we entered, and the stairs the girls dragged me up.
“No, no, take him to my room.” After walking left, I was led to the right. The room was small, with a sloping wood ceiling. The floor was all red carpet, and books littered the bed: The Life and Times of Jesus Christ; The Odin Myth and the Meaning of the Pagans; A Guidebook for the Practical Wicca; Apollo to Zeus: The A-Z Guide on Greek Mythology; and The Power of Faith.
“Sorry, I don’t have books on you yet.” Devon placed me on the bed. “I figured if you bled everywhere, it might as well be invisible.”
The bedspread was black.
“I’m going to pull the dress off. Here, you can cover yourself with this.” Devon pressed a towel into my hands. “What did you do, fall off a cliff?”
“I antagonized your boss.” I sighed. “He sent you, I suppose.”
“Who?” The blonde sat on the bed’s edge. “It’s just us. Even our parents aren’t here.”
I looked between them. “The warden didn’t send you.” They exchanged glances. I sat up as Devon unzipped the dress. “But you think I’m a God.”
“Well, that’s just a theory. I’ve been praying all my life, and then I started dreaming about you.”
I grimaced. “Is this the part where I back away slowly?”
Devon pulled the dress over my ankles. “Damn, I knew what you looked like, but it’s still rougher up close. Don’t you eat anything?”
My face burned.
“Devon.” The blonde leaned forward. “I’m Idgie. I guess...she told you that.”
“What the hell is happening?”
Devon sucked in a breath. “Did somebody torture you?”
“Several people, over time, though I couldn’t tell you their names.” I hugged the towel to my chest. It dawned on me this was real: I was in a bedroom, with two girls, I was naked, and I was ugly.
Devon met my eyes. “What?”
“You don’t think I’m a girl.”
“I know what you are. I just don’t know who.” Devon left, only to return with a cloth. She began to dab at the wounds. “Tell me who hurt you, and then I’ll explain everything.”
“We’ll take you back to the house.” Devon smiled. “It’s not far. Nothing is far in Creston, really. Well, except the mall. You have to drive an hour and a half to go there, and then there’s no radio reception.”
“What?”
Devon laughed. “What’s your name? I never caught that part in the dreams. I think it started with an E?”
“I think it was Ernest.” The second girl frowned. Blonde hair streamed over her shoulders. Where Devon was all blacks and reds, this girl was pink and white. They looked different, but the same. Devon was slender, all angles and impish grins; the second girl was round cheeked, plump, but both had the same eyes.
Devon snorted. “What kind of a God would be called ‘Ernest’?”
I leaned forward. “Where the hell are you taking me?”
“The house.”
I blinked. “You’re a kid!”
“So I am.”
“Wonderful, and I only just escaped prison.” I crossed my arms. “I’ve never heard of Creston before. Are the prisons bad? Are there work camps?”
“Gee, I don’t even know if Creston has a jail.” Devon snorted. “If we see Mr. Avendale, he’ll just pretend to write a ticket and then rip it up.”
“Devon.” The other girl covered her face. “He’ll be so disappointed in us.”
“Ugh. He’s not even home.” Devon sped up. “If we get back soon enough, he won’t even know. Call it intuition. We needed a truck, didn’t we?”
I glanced at the second girl. “It was luck and selfishness, not intuition.”
“Oh, great. A goody two shoes. I guess I’d expect as much from a God. Got to follow the rules and everything.”
“Stop the truck.”
“Forget it. We’re already halfway there! You aren’t ditching out on us. I’ve been waiting for years as it is!”
A chill ran up my spine when the blonde looked at me. Devon barreled past little homes, white and blue and fenced in.
With a thud, we pulled into a dusty driveway. A house sat on our right, complete with a porch and children’s toys. Devon slid out of the truck. The sister followed. Devon yanked my door open.
“Quick, before he gets back.”
“Your father?”
Devon laughed. “No, the owner of this truck.”
“You’re a thief too? That’s fantastic.”
“I’m not a thief.” Devon pulled a wad of cash from her pocket, though the currency was foreign to me. “I pay for the gas.”
I slid out, wincing.
“First things first, we need to patch up your wounds. Just lean on me if you need to.”
“Won’t Bob know we took his truck if we leave money?” the blonde asked.
“I’ll tell him it’s because I broke something. Nothing real of course, but he forgets stuff all the time. No harm done. I’ll make up a fake item, and he’ll think it exists.” Devon reached for me.
“I don’t need your help.”
“So you’re grumpy too? That’s fun.” Devon pulled my arm over my shoulder. “You’ll like my house. It’s cool inside.”
“Where are we going?” We ambled away from the first house.
“Home.” She led me to a second driveway. “The truck belongs to our neighbour. Pay attention. We live here.”
“He’s hurt. That’s weird. He wasn’t injured in my dreams.”
“Maybe we should call the hospital.” The voice was timid. “The cuts could get infected.”
“Who the hell did this?”
“Can I call the ambulance?”
“Don’t be stupid. He’s an Elf. They’ll take him off to a bloody lab or something, and that’ll be it.”
“But...”
“Relax! He’s not going to die.” Was the ground jumping beneath us? “I’ll patch it up at the house.”
“Devon...”
“I know it’s illegal!” The ground jumped again. “But what am I supposed to do? I’ll just tell Bob I skinned myself.”
“You skinned yourself and went to the river?”
“No, I...” Devon sighed. “If he’d given us a ride, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“But I thought we were done with this.” The voice sighed. “You promised Mom you wouldn’t do it again.”
“Mom promised she would come home. Haven’t you noticed, Idgie? Rules are made to be broken. Everyone breaks their promises. Besides, I crossed my fingers.”
“Bob will be so upset. I’ll get in trouble too. I think I’m going to cry.”
“People don’t announce things like that, Idgie. They just do them. Go ahead, but don’t stain your shirt with snot.”
“I never did that, did I?” The voice sighed again. “I’m sorry if I did. Were you on laundry duty?”
I opened my eyes. I was in the back of a truck. Blue sky and green flashed past. What little I could see of the truck was red, glinting in the sun; we hit another bump, and I gasped.
“Are you awake?”
I saw the back of a shaggy head. She turned her head. Her black pixie cut was run through with red streaks. She grinned. “Nice of you to finally show up.”
“Watch the road!”
The girl faced forward. “I am! What’s life without some risk? Danger is fun.” She laughed. “I’m Devon. This is Idgie.”
I stared, unseeing at first. Beneath my hands, there was springy grass. I pulled at it. Birds sang. Shade formed dappled shapes over me, blending with the bruises. Spots of blue peered from between leaves; the sun shone through them, making them gold. It was too bright. I shivered, but sweat beaded on my forehead. I took a deep breath.
Summer?
I stood up.
And sun. Where am I?
I shielded my eyes. There were trees, but I could hear the rumble of cars. There was an echo to the sound, like they were-
A bridge? But there are no bridges near the forest.
I took two steps. There was a pulse. I whirled around. The tree glowed with it’s blue lines. The door creaked. Then, slowly, it closed. The pulse was low. I took two steps backwards: the pulse slowed. I stepped forward, and it quickened. The tree thundered and glowed and burned when I touched it...but it grew quieter, and finally silent, when I had put eight feet between myself and it.
“It’s magic,” I whispered. “But where am I?”
Did it matter if I got lost? Nothing mattered, after all. I picked my way through the forest, only to emerge on the shore of a river. There were rocks over the sand, and beneath the green water, and the bridge ran over it. Cars, most of them old, shot across. There was a chasm of water and shadows beneath it. As I approached the river, the reflections melted together as if with paint—yellow, green, and blue, the colours ran together.
The rocks became many colours in the wet, but on shore they simply looked beige and gray. I threw one into the water with a sploosh. Each rock was as large as my fist, or larger, with smaller and sharper ones between.
I stumbled, the river on my right. Weeds fought through the rock. Patches of smooth sand showed through, like the sky through the leaves. The trees were on my left, but it was open on the other side. Occasionally, I found little ponds. Cut off from the main river, they teemed with algae and pond skaters. When I felt a sting on my arm, I slapped it—I wiped the mosquito guts on my dress.
I slapped as I trekked. This devolved into scratching. My fresh bite bled, along with everything else. I tasted my mouth: the blood remained.
I heard their voices first: they were soft, and then loud as they saw me. They seemed familiar.
The dreams.
I collapsed.
“It’s him! God damn, Idgie! It’s really him!”
They were running towards me, and I went to sleep.
I threw the door open. Inside the tree, there was blackness. It wasn’t just dark. I frowned. No, it was inky nothing. There should have been a back.
“I can’t see...” I inched towards the ink. I entered the tree. My fingers flailed at air. There was no back. “But...”
The door shut behind me. I screamed. I ran forward. There was air and blackness and nothing. I wept.
The Hard Dark, the Hard Dark, the Hard Dark.
“Mom!” I fell. The darkness pressed in. “Let me out! Please! Mom!”
But she can’t. Auntie has taken the key and thrown it away. She pulls at the lock. But she can’t open it. How long will it be this time?
“Auntie, please! I’m sorry! Please let me out! Please! I’m sorry!”
My fingers brushed something cold. I seized it, and it cut into my palm.
The necklace.
I took a shuddering breath. “Mom?”
I put my hands out. The sides were hot and too close. The scent of bark filled my nose. My breaths were too loud in the silence.
“Mom?”
The walls pulsed. A breeze washed over me. The smell was blue. In darkness, I crawled forward. I could move. I could do that much. My lungs pushed for air, but my ribs refused to expand. I gasped. The darkness pressed in.
“Auntie!” I crawled faster. “Auntie, let me out!” The panic swam in my voice. My heart thundered. My stomach swam.
I curled into a ball. No, no, no. Let me out. No more. I’m sorry. Please.
The walls pulsed.
I crawled forward, and the wall came up in front of me. I scratched at it. There was something small and hard. I grasped it, and turned it: light blinded me, and I rolled out. I closed my eyes, and gasped; each breath came faster, and then it slowed. I smelled water.
I rolled on to my side, and opened my eyes. It was sunny.
I walked and walked and walked. Then I collapsed. The stream swelled on my right. The mud plastered itself to my face. My hair streamed out around me, wet and dark red like blood. I closed my eyes.
After three hours—if I slept, I didn’t know—I moved again. Why wasn’t it enough to lie down, and die? I was restless. My limbs were lead and my eyelids drooped, but my feet kept walking. Even when I told them to stop, they continued to move. A horrible flutter went through my heart.
I hugged a tree. What if I can’t die?
What if it’s true, and I’m a God and I can’t die? Will I just wander and starve, and stare up at the trees every morning? Will I just lie there, for weeks, and wait for something that can’t come?
I screamed.
It can’t be like that.
I screamed.
What would be the point? Why keep me alive, if it’s just more of the same?
I crumpled to the ground, whimpering. There was a flash of blue light. It shone through my eyelids. I sat up.
Lines ran along the massive trunk. I crawled towards the tree—at least three times as wide as the other, it ran with lines and patterns of neon blue. It pulsed, as if it had a heartbeat, and the drums quickened as I approached. The lines formed a shape which was flat at the bottom and oval at the top. I touched the bark, and it was hot.
Magic coursed through me, and the tree pulsed. As if it was second nature, I reached for the doorknob.
I came to, shivering. It was pitch black. I crawled through the muck and shadows. My left ear had been submerged in the water. I reached the inside of a warehouse and collapsed. Each breath sliced through me.
How healthy was I, really? I’d eaten, yes, but three meals didn’t fix months of malnutrition. I crawled. I settled behind a crate. It wasn’t the forest, but it would do. If I could only find the forest…
I dreamed. My own screams tore me into wakefulness. The last choked in my throat; I touched my neck, feeling it give out. I swallowed. I massaged my throat. I stumbled to my feet: the world spun, and I caught myself against the crate. My breaths were shallow. The hairs along my arms and legs stood up. There was a dim light. Was it morning, or afternoon? Hives stood out along my arms. I rubbed them, and shuddered.
Why couldn’t I die then, beside her? What was the point? Is Genitrix really a sadist? Or is she like the warden—indifferent?
Is mother in Harmony, a heaven of her own? Does Genitrix take Elves into heaven? Is She looking after her?
“Please,” I whispered. “If you can’t do anything else, look after her.”
I wandered the streets. I didn’t look at my surroundings. I didn’t think about my footsteps. One minute I was in the Slums. The next, the forest rose up before me in a green wall. The scents of trees and mud and moss blew over me.
I grasped a branch. I don’t even care if they bury me.
“John, come here. There’s someone behind the restaurant. No, don’t argue with me! I think it’s a child.”
A shadow grew over me. A second shadow joined it. Was there even a point?
The knife clattered to the ground. The rain swallowed it. I fell to my knees. The tears would have blinded me, but the rain already did that. Did it ever stop?
“What’s going on?”
“Maybe her boyfriend broke up with her.” The second shadow chuckled. “Teenagers are always crying about something or other.”
“I don’t think she’s that old. She looks eleven to me. Girl? What’s your name? Do you need me to call someone?”
I pulled me knees to my chest. The sobs came on their own, louder; they ripped through my chest. I burrowed my face in the soaked velvet. My hair formed a blanket over me.
“She’s an Elf.” The second voice was male. Why hadn’t I noticed? “Damn, maybe she ran away.”
“Is that what happened?” The first shadow, a woman, touched my arm.
I jumped.
“She must have! Look at this! Genitrix above, she’s bleeding! Look, John. Do you think her father…?”
They don’t even know me, but they already know my life.
“I’ll call the police. Elf or not, they must do something. If her father-”
“No!” I leaped to my feet. “Leave me alone!”
“Look, if your father-”
“He’s dead! Nothing matters! You’re both going to die too! Everyone dies! Nothing matters!”
“That’s not true! We’re going to help you!”
“Nobody can help me! I’m going to die! That’s all. It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t be alive. It will be alright.”
“John, say something!”
I shot past them. I heard the woman calling, but I dashed across two streets. I received three honks. I headed for the Slums. Twice, I slipped. The third time, I remained still. The concrete burrowed into my side. People stepped over me, or shambled around; one man paused, patting me for money. With a sigh, he moved away. It grew darker.
I splashed into the rain, knife to her back. I glanced both ways, before dragging her across the road. There were cars, shops, and lights. Three times, I turned in a circle. I dragged her into an alley.
I pulled the rope from her mouth.
She sobbed. “I have a husband, children! Please! Don’t kill me!”
“My mother wanted to live too.” I held the knife out. “She died after him. Only she wasn’t drunk.”
“I don’t...please. I don’t want to hurt you. I never wanted that. I won’t tell!”
“You won’t mean to, but they’ll make you!” My arm trembled. She wasn’t the warden. I had to kill her, but-
“Please.”
“Do your children love you?”
“What? Yes. Of course! Why would you ask-”
I cut her ropes away. I pushed her against the wall. “Do you love your children?”
“Yes!”
I stepped away. She sank to the ground. I shrugged. “Then you can live. You should live. But if you tell them where I am, I’ll return. That’s a promise. I will cut your throat, and laugh.”
She scrabbled to her feet. “I won’t!” She crossed her heart. “Good luck. I guess.”
She ran to the left. I ran to the right. The rain seeped into my shoes. I thought of the suitcase—it was upstairs, uselessly far away. Cars honked at me as I tore across the streets. The rain made my hair a weight. My shoulders ached, and my stomach growled. Even as my lungs burned, I ran. My legs seared. My arms pulsed with blood and pain. The bruises beat. The blood seeped along my back. How many times had he whipped me? I had stopped counting after ten; I had bitten my tongue then, and there had been only the taste of copper in my mouth and the fire.
I spat out a mouthful of blood. The cut bled. The rain thickened. It was gray and wet and misty; I shivered. Houses were shadows. Headlights were ghosts. They ambushed me. The cars honked. One stopped inches from hitting me, and the driver cursed.
I shook my head and stumbled through the fog. I grasped a dumpster. I slid to the ground; my butt soaked through. My heart hammered in my chest. I turned my face into my elbow, and wept.
I entered the library. The warden was slumped over a book. He glanced up, and his eyes widened. He shut the book and ambled towards me. He took my arm, and ran his fingers over the bruises.
“Are you alright? Does your back still sting?” He turned me around. “Gods above, didn’t you even get the nurses to look? It’s bled right through.”
“Stop pretending you care.”
“But I do care.” He turned me to face him. “You’re special, you know. A God should be looked after, treated with respect. If you’re hurt, that bothers me.”
“Do you have a split personality? You’re the one who hit me!”
“You didn’t give me a choice.” He sighed. “Don’t make me do it again. I don’t enjoy hurting you.”
“It doesn’t bother you, either.”
“It bothers me after.” He sank into a chair, head in his hand. “And now you’ve come to apologize.”
“No.” I sat across from him. “I came to hear your apology.”
His eyes widened. His brow furrowed. “My apology? For what? Saving your life?”
“I gave you a chance.” I smiled. “I don’t enjoy hurting you.” I shrugged. “But then, I don’t dislike it either.”
“Huh?”
I sang. Before he knew what was happening, his flesh burned. He jumped up, but the skin fell in clumps from his blackening arms. He screamed and sizzled and the reek of cooked flesh slammed into me. I covered my nose; gods above, how could it smell so horrible?
He formed a puddle at my feet. The acid ate holes in the clothes. The blood bubbled, and then stilled. Steam rose from the floor. The wood receded. The blood hissed.
A woman screamed. The maid ran to the puddle. The second scream was louder.
I pressed a knife to her back. “Shut up.”
She whirled around. “What have you done?”
“I did what I had to.” My voice was casual. “Do I have to kill you too?”
“No. Don’t!”
“You aren’t a bad person. I would regret killing you.” I raised the knife. “But if you don’t cease your shrieking-”
“I’ll be quiet.” She bowed her head. Then she shook. “But what if they think I helped you? Gods above, they’ll call me complicit! If I don’t stop you, I’ll be as much to blame!”
“You didn’t see me.”
“But I did. There could be a polygraph! I’m a terrible liar.”
“You must be. If you hadn’t been, you wouldn’t have told me that.”
“What?”
“You’ll tell them where I’m going.” I sang, and the hems of her shirt became ropes which bound her wrists. I made more rope, and shoved it around her mouth. She whimpered. I led her from the library.
The maid pressed a cloth to my face. I winced. When she drew the cloth away, it came away red. She dipped it in the water; it was already pink. She moved the cloth to my arms. The scratches ran up them, mingling with the purple blooms. The largest was of a size with my hand; it budged against the others, spreading and deepening. She touched the spot, and I gasped.
She shook her head. “Stupid, reckless girl. Why can’t you cooperate with him? It would be easier then.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Stop it.”
“But I don’t.” I sat up, and winced again. “I already have a plan. I’ve written it down, more to savour it than anything. I’ve been overthinking this.”
She placed her hands on my shoulders, and pressed me down. The bed was too soft. It would be so easy to sleep.
But then the dreams would start.
“Don’t do something stupid.”
“It will be safer this way, in the long run.”
She took my shoulders and shook me. “And what do you plan to do? I’m telling you now, any plan that’s so easy to make can’t be a plan at all. We need to think this through.”
I slapped her hands away. “He will hunt me down.”
“You don’t know that.”
“It’s just common sense.” I threw my spindly legs over the bed. “I’m an enigma to him. He’s not going to let me go.”
“But what does he think you are?”
I threw the wardrobe open. With a grunt, I tossed a suitcase on to the bed. I shoved the clothes in. When I was hungry, the wrinkles wouldn’t matter. When I was cold, it would be enough that I had them.
“That’s between us.”
She seized my arm. “If you kill him, everyone in this household, myself included, will be out of a job.”
I smiled, cold inside. “And you’ll find another one.” I swung the suitcase to the ground.
“The authorities will hunt you down. You’ll have nowhere to go. They’ll bring you back to that prison. It’s not much of a life, I know, but you’re being fed. You have a comfortable bedroom.”
“I’m not a pet. I’d rather be a wolf, ravenous in the snow, than a dog panting after it’s master.”
“Honey.”
I strode to the door, and paused. “You’ll be fine. I could have done worse. I might have burned the whole house down instead, and killed you.”
“Honey!”
“I might still, if you follow me.” I froze her with my glare. “Stay out of my way.”
