A night in the port city brings smoke, salt, and a chance encounter that could change a lonely life forever.
The begining of my orginal story "the Blood of the Moon"
A cold breeze blew through the alley, tangling bits of dry rubbish around the girl’s worn boots. Her footsteps echoed off the crumbling tenement walls. A match flared, lighting a cheap cigarette, and she inhaled deeply, savoring the smoke.
“Green Lady Karaköy… can you feel the breath of spring in this frozen air?” she wondered, tilting her head toward the dark sky. The smell of fish and sea salt lingered faintly from the harbor, though the air felt sharp and biting.
She shoved her hands into the pockets of her denim jacket, scowling. “No, I don’t feel the breath of spring. It’s freezing.”
Another gust whipped through the alley, tossing her silver-streaked hair into her face. She drew another long pull from the cigarette, listening for the cats fighting nearby. One might dart across her path any second, she thought.
Her earnings today had been poor. She glanced at the crumpled banknotes in her pocket. “Will this even cover breakfast tomorrow? Still… that old man was kind to offer me a smoke. He probably thought I was a boy.”
A small laugh escaped her, and she ran a hand through her tightly tied hair. Letting it loose would have caused a commotion—too many disgusted looks at her grey strands. Natural, not dyed, as she always reminded herself.
She flicked the cigarette butt under her boots and continued down a side alley, the wind sharpening as she neared the riverbank.
Finally, she stopped in the quietest stretch of the city, where the old harbor met the river’s edge. The moored ships creaked in the wind, buoys and ropes swaying. Cats prowled, hoping for scraps. In two days, she would walk this alley again, asking about work.
“If I buy bread tomorrow, maybe I’ll save the rest for those poor folks from the east,” she thought bitterly. Nature could be as cruel as war, she knew too well.
She leaned against the railing, watching the lights glint on the black water from the opposite riverbank. Despite the hour, the city was alive, restless. Behind the clouds, a crescent moon peeked.
“And what are you doing here, mate?” she muttered under her breath, shivering as the cold crept beneath her jacket. Clearly, Karaköy didn’t share the excitement of spring yet.
The girl turned away from the promenade into darker, narrower alleys. Streetlights had mostly gone out, leaving only faint glows at building corners. The distant clatter of a tram echoed lazily through the city.
A startled cat jumped from the shadows. She cursed softly—but before she could continue, a harsh male voice rang out:
“Oi! What’re you doing here, brat?!”
