In Which The Central Heating Goes Bust.
There were two figures curled up in the bed. Well, Tooth thought, bed was a bit of a stretch. It was a blow up air mattress with four duvets thrown over it and some dodgy looking cushions (which she guessed had come from an armchair or couch) were a sad excuse for pillows. Still, there was a tooth underneath those cushions that she needed. Upon further examination the two figures were both female; the younger couldn't have been older than seven, the elder approaching early adulthood. Both had fiery red hair and almost comically high cheekbones which brushed against long eyelashes. The younger was obviously the more beautiful, though; she lacked the four ugly scars that disfigured the elder's face and had obviously cost her an eye.
The apartment that they took residence in was in no better state than their sleeping arrangements. It was a tiny, whitewashed place, above a reputably nasty bar on one of the seediest streets Paris had to offer. It's grimy walls were covered with a beautifully intricate patterned wallpaper, but the mould and peeling had destroyed any pleasant effect it may have had. As much as Tooth hated visiting households like this, she couldn't interfere. It was neither her place nor within her capabilities to help these suffering families. The most she could do was bringing a little joy when the child woke up and found her tooth gone; replaced by a gift which would warm their hearts. This was nothing, however, when she compared it to the few stints she'd had in the slums of Dubai; or the mud huts of Africa. She all but never had to reach these places- few of the less westernized cultures believed in the tooth fairy; many that did had sold their teeth on black markets before she or her helpers could reach them.
No, the girls before her had it good comparatively. Besides, Toothiana had seen conditions from the Great Depression, and the spread of the Black Plague. Two redheads on an air bed shouldn't tug at her heart so.
And with that thought, she dipped her hand under the cushions and flew out of the widow, one tooth richer and one euro poorer.
Liza's teeth chattered relentlessly. The central heating in the apartment consisted of one leaky radiator which had hissed its death cries just this evening. She had clamped her jaw down as best she possibly could to avoid disturbing Maggie, but if her back couldn't get under the covers soon she knew hypothermia would set in, and a dead sister was no good sister. So, reluctantly, she shuffled closer to the smaller girl curled up in her side and robbed her of part of the duvet. There were four, but none were any good. They were all mouldy, or damp, or torn. Cast-offs, just like the duo using them to preserve what little heat they could. And they were certainly no good for a girl with weak lungs and severe asthma like the cherubic little girl that Liza was determined to protect with her life.
For an eighteen year old girl with no support, money, or legal existence, raising a child was challenging to say the least, and absolutely terrifying to say the most. But Maggie was a good, bright girl, who had quite the knack for getting what she wanted. Rarely from her sister, of course (there was only so much one could steal before coming under suspicion,) more so from the unsuspecting adults who lingered around the richer of Paris' streets. For one so young, Maggie was awfully good at lying and acting. Liza would venture so far as to claim that she and her sister could con anyone out of a few coins. So many gullible, rich fools wandered the streets with more money than sense, and none could resist the temptation of being hailed a hero for saving a poor, lost young girl.
All the same, Liza hated that this was the life that had been chosen for them. They were living in a foreign country, alone, and technically speaking, according to the papers held in Michigan police headquarters, they were dead. She hated the lost innocence most of all. Her own she had mourned years ago- the dog attack which took her eye at seven years old took with it the last of her belief and hope. She was a cynical shell of a person, filled with nothing but love and grief. Love for her sister, whom she knew had just last night abandoned her last hope of the tooth fairy when she never showed (Liza had no spare change on her- she couldn't believe her stupidity in forgetting and letting her sister down); and with the tooth fairy went Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and all of the beloved storybook characters she used to so love. And Liza's grief was made up of fear, desperation and regrets. The list went on… Moments that had changed the course of her life and destiny forever, which all mounted up into one huge void inside of her that only her sister had ever been able to fill.
It was while she was considering this that Liza felt, rather than heard, the widow open. It was no strange ESP or déjà vu feeling- the window was stiff and shook the floor when it was lifted. This was the second break-in this month, as far as Liza was concerned, but the intruders would soon realise there was nothing worth taking. Even so, she pretended to yawn in her sleep, turning over and reaching for the pen knife under her pillow. It was small and the blade was dull, but her father had given it to her as a gift so many years ago that it felt more at home in her hand than a pencil in an artist's.
But she heard no creaking floorboards nor felt any vibrations from footfalls. There was just a quiet, steady buzzing, like that of a fly but softer. Its source was moving very little and neither party stirred for a good five minutes; until the buzzing got louder, her cushion moved and then there was silence. It was an unusual turn of events, even by Liza's standards, but she thought little of it until the next morning, when she awoke to:
"Liza, look, look! See what I found? See, see! I knew she'd come, I just knew it!" There was red hair bouncing up and down as Maggie bounced on the mattress waving something about.
"Let's see what you have their angel. And stop bouncing on the bed or it will," deflate. Liza realised that that had happened at some point in the night already, and that specifically was the reason her back was so sore. She stopped rubbing her back and raised an eyebrow when a shiny euro was flaunted in front of her face. Oddly enough, her first thought was 'It's prettier than a dollar.'
"The tooth fairy came, Lizzy, just look! My tooth is gone!" Maggie said, lifting up the cushion to prove that, yes, it was gone. Liza couldn't help but think that perhaps last night's break-in was the tooth fairy. Wouldn't it be wonderful, she thought, if everything I disbelieved could be real? If I could be happy and innocent again, like before that damned Mastiff took it away? She couldn't hold back the ironic smile, and planted a soft kiss on Maggie's forehead.
"Didn't I tell you? Didn't I say 'Maggie, my dear, she'll come, just you wait and see.'" Liza giggled. She had always had a gift for telling stories and she could use her voice to magnificent effect. It was how she had survived all the years without a guardian- she wore high heels, a blouse and black knee length skirt and feigned an English accent. Somehow, it made her seem that bit more mature. Somehow, it had gotten herself and her sister across oceans and into apartments. If she had any girl friends to sit and giggle with, she imagined she would say 'A nice rack doesn't hurt either!'
But she didn't. She had a sister and a duty and they would just have to suffice. No imaginary friends, or tooth fairies, or any other idle fancies would ever change that.
Did anyone enjoy it? This is interesting to write, and I'd love to continue it if anyone else is enjoying it too. Leave us a review if you would like to see it continued, and don't be shy to tell what you don't like, as well. No one can improve without first realising where they make mistakes :) Oh and I'm English, so my spellings are slightly different to lots of you are used to. American English is standard on this site. Pah! ;)