Chapter one
Today is a special day. I'm travelling with my family along the country side, passing long fields of golden maize and corn, on the back of rickety cart pulled by a petite chestnut horse. The wooden cart bumps up and down on the rocky path, causing my bony knees to clash continuous against each other.
I find it amazing how that slim, miniature horse can pull all one…two…four…all six of us and one fat cart full of straw. His legs shake violently as it struggles forwards with each step of its battered hooves. A whip lashes at his back every time his steps begin to falter, causing him to neigh in complaint and push his legs harder.
Poor Chestnut. Yes, I like the name. It matches his dusty brown coat, his proud sleek mane. That would be his favourite time of everyday; when the brush ran through the silky hair running down his neck, making him feel clean again. How I would love to be the girl to run the brush through the soft fur, spending hours a day just sitting by his side and running the brush up and down.
Maybe I can be the one; maybe if I ask the man cracking the whip nicely, he will let me stroke Chestnut for a while. He might let me, if I offer something in return, like some fresh corn from the cornfield right beside the road we are travelling on. Or maybe if tell him that today is really a special today, that it can be the small present for today.
From under my threadbare coat, I pull out a sketchpad and rest it on my lap. There is a fresh page laid out, pristine as a cloudless blue sky. I also take out a stout pencil. It is stout because it is old. It is the only one I own. I have owned it for a long time and reduced it to the length of my thumb. It is usually tucked behind my ear, but now it is far too short for that. The lead is still sharp and strong. I press the lead onto the white paper, drawing a gray line across the page.
The line curves, dips, dives, and rises up again. I lift the tip of the pencil of the page. The line has ended. It is a wonky line, distorted by the up and down motion of the cart. I draw a few quicker, sharper strokes over those lines and bend them together to form a thicker, straighter line. The line continues onwards around the paper, before reaching back to the starting point. I trace over some parts of it again, accenting some areas and smudging away imprecise ones. For detail, I flick the lead downwards on the paper several times sharply.
The cart halts suddenly, sending my head jolting forward. I lift the pencil off the paper just in time as my hand jerks as well. I stow the sketchpad and pencil back inside the safety of my coat.
We slowly hop of the little cart. The base ascends as the cart empties. It sighs in relief when Eaze, the last person onboard, hops off. He murmurs thanks through his surgical mask to the taller, owner of the horse. We all do the same. I add my own special thanks to Chestnut, who grunts in response, flicking his lovely hair out of his eyes. He's saying "maybe you can brush my mane another day."
"Yo Tyki, where are we going?" Lize asks as Chestnut's tail swishes around a bend and disappears. Tyki takes a long sip from his cigarette, before breathing out a large puff of smoke. I frown at him. All that smoke clouding up in his lungs can't be good for him.
"For a train ride," he says, watching the smoke evaporate into the cold atmosphere.
"What for?" he takes another breath.
"It's a special day today, isn't Rose?" Tyki's eyes gaze down at from behind his thick lenses, a smile stretched wide across his face. He is a whole head taller than me and I have to tilt my head upwards to wrinkle my brows at him.
What's so special about that? We always go on train rides.
"Just taking a short trip before heading off the factory," Tyki says simply. His grin widens.
The gravel crunches loudly beneath our feet. I can hear the wind whooshing past us, making the leaves on the trees rustle in excitement. It plays with my hair too, urging me to feel the adrenaline. My locks of brown hair flutter madly around my face. The birds resting on the branches chirp their anticipation. Even the clouds look like they're dancing with restlessly. They all seem to know that today is a special day.
I should be feeling the exhilaration as well, the escalation of my heartbeat. My feet should be dancing with the clouds as we make our way up the hill. But no; I don't feel any of it. I don't know why. I never feel the excitement. Every year, when the day comes, I never do. I probably never will.
The red bricks of the train station loom into sight. Thick vines grapple to all sides of the cracked walls. Tyki buys the tickets for us from the station-keeper, who is sitting boringly through the bars of his mini office. Any moment, his eyes are going to droop and he will topple to the floor. I am sure of it.
I am wrong. He lazily hands Tyki five paper tickets in exchange for the shiny silver coins and then lays back into his comfy seat, placing the newspaper over his face. He's trying to shield his fatigued eyes from the rays of the sun, which are piercing mercilessly through the folds of the newspaper. A book would have done a better job, though he has none at hand. At least the light will keep him from falling asleep for when the occasional (though rare) passengers show up with money in their hands.
I settle down on the cold wooden bench two steps away, dropping my small suitcase beside me. Lize and Erne do the same.
There's really nothing inside the battered old case. Tucked away inside the thin layer of brown leather are the few spare clothes I've acquired over these many years. They are frayed, just like the grey coat hanging over my shoulders and the brown bits of clothe that cover my feet. Then there are also the precious flower buds that have yet to bloom.
I take the sketchpad out again. Now that there is nothing disturbing my vision, I observe my work from afar. It's rough, scratchy, slightly undefined in most areas. Drawing my nose up to the page, I scrutinize my work up close. If only I had a rubber to adjust the lines and fix the shape of the-
"Haven't I seen that horse somewhere?" Tyki sits down beside me as I tilt my head up to meet his gaze through the thick lenses. He peers interestedly at my picture while scratching his clean chin. I can't help but feel a smile stretch across my face. Typical Tyki; he always gets it right. "Ahh, that's right. He was the handsome chestnut that pulled us on the cart."
Using the side of my thumb, I smudge it along the roughest lines on the horse back. The streaks of gray begin to blend together under the friction of my thumb, creating shadows. The horse appears smoother now, more relaxed and less violent. It is galloping freely over the invisible lush, green hills. If I had a brown pencil, Chestnut would have a gleaming brown coat. But for now, the work is finished.
Eaze plops his small figure on the other side of me. His glassy blue eyes wander from the horses flapping main to its whipping tail. His blonde eyebrows curl upwards. Even though I cannot see the smile hidden behind his surgical mask, I know he likes the picture. I smile back at him.
Tyki and Eaze; two of the closest friends I have. They have become like what my limbs are to me; without them, I can possibly not survive and will be forever reminded of the pain with the scars that are visible. I hope to never lose them, to never feel the pain.
Upwards I glance at the clock hanging from the ceiling overhanging the platform. 1:30 it reads. We had mashed potatoes and sandwiches for lunch nearly an hour ago…
The train comes thundering down the line, leaving a trail of thick smoke lingering in its wake. The pumping metal wheels screeches to a stop as it reaches the platform. The rusty doors skid open and the passengers begin to disembark.
Waves of coloured hats flood out. Amongst the bright hats, some black top hats stand tall and proud. They all sit on the heads of the rich. My eyes wonder over the different faces. I find no familiar ones. Their eyes avert mine with their heads held high. None of them wish to be associated with me. I don't blame them. There are some people in the world that you should never talk to.
We wait for the train-keeper to blow his whistle and signal for us to board. To the furthermost carriage we walk, past the elegantly crafted metal carriages with sophisticated red curtains drawn over the many stainless glass windows. We stop at some more ragged curtains. In fact, they look more like grey rags that were merely thrown over the dirty windows.
The door slides shut again and the train clicks into motion. I drop into the hard wooden seat.
"Would you look at that…not a cloud in the sky," Lize says as he stares through the clean section of the window. My eyes follow his gaze. They settle on a cloudless, blue sky.
It's so clear, flawless, serene, and perfect; a blanket of baby blue spread evenly across the vastness of the sky. The end is nowhere in the sight, leading into some other world. What an adventure that would be, to find the end. A never-ending adventure…
Absent-mindedly, my fingers fiddle with the pendant hanging around my neck. I trace the metal vines twined around the spherical glass container. The delicate rose bud that resides inside, swirling, trapped, protected in its little glass world, safe from the infinite world outside.
"Just the perfect weather ain't it? Perfect weather for a special day." Tyki's voice cuts through my hazy thoughts. I mentally shake myself awake and purse my lips at him.
You're pushing it. Really pushing it.
His mouth curls into a smile of smugness, tempting me to hit him over the head and send his glasses skidding of his nose. Instead, I distract myself by reaching for my suitcase.
Where's my suitcase?
I scramble off my seat, sticking my head below the seat. Nothing. On my knees, I scour underneath the entire row of seats. Nothing. My panicky feet carry me around the carriage. I peek at every seat, empty and occupied. None of the luggage is mine.
Crap.
I hadn't left it on any of the wooden seats that bumped up and down as the train sped along the rail line; it was the lonely seat on the platform that my suitcase sits abandoned and alone right now. I have to get it back.
As I swerve around to leap out the window, my head makes contact with Tyki's chest.
"Missing something?" he says, cocking a grin.
How could you possibly smile in a situation like this, Tyki?
I frown at him. My hand is itchy to connect with the side of his head. I bite my lip to hold down all the stress and panic that has risen inside me. My eyes dart gingerly everywhere. Still nothing.
"Hey if you don't want it…" Tyki casually throws his hands into the air and begins to back off. Clutched in his right hand; a suitcase with a white ribbon tied to the leather handle.
I sigh in pure relief, wiping away the cold sweat that has built up on my forehead. Tyki is laughing his head off as I reach to grab back my procession. This time, my hand does connect with his face; hard.
He is still laughing as his cheek begins to turn red from the impact of my hand. His thick lenses has skidded an inch down his nose, exposing his thin, brown eyebrows but not the eyes. That was as my damage as my hand did. I wish I hit him hard enough to send him crashing to the ground.
It isn't funny Tyki!
He should be on fire by now. The ferocity of my glare is vibrating hotly in the air.
"Hey, you should be thanking me. You were the one for left it on the platform." He rubs the side of his cheek and pushes his glasses upwards, before casting a "you-should-have-looked-after-your-own-stuff" look. I pout at him in return, softening my glare.
Fine. Thank-you then.
He grins once again.
"Come on. Even Lize and Erne are more organised than you."
At the mention of their names, Lize in his beanie and Erne with his straight hair turn towards me.
That's because you guys don't carry any luggage.
I click my tongue at him impatiently.
"What about Eaze then? He's so organised. He never forgets any of his luggage." He gestures to the backpack lying on the floor beside him. Eaze looks up with his innocent eyes.
That's because you carry it around for him.
We are now all grouped in a circle in the middle of the carriage corridor. I am standing beside Tyki, clutching tightly to the precious suitcase in my hands; Tyki is smoking his cigarette, letting the disgusting smoke swirl into the atmosphere; Eaze is kneeling on the edge of his seat, peering curiously at our argument. If he didn't look so young and innocence, I would say he actually understood what we were talking about; Lize is smiling in amusement with his bony cheeks; Erne is uninterestingly watching our conversation. It looks like his going to fall asleep any moment now.
This is my family; the people I trust the most in the world, even Eaze; who came along not so long ago. He's like my little brother; the good kind who never annoys you or tries to make you angry. He's so sweet and fragile, with the blonde curls hanging around his round, unblemished face. I want to protect him from the dangerous world that he lives in. His health is already unstable, having to wear a surgical mask twenty-four-seven. One little push could send him toppling over the edge. I close my eyes. The images begin flooding into my mind.
"Come on, it'll be fun." Once again, Tyki's voice cuts through my thoughts. I find the strength to pull myself away from the horrific images that fill my mind.
"I-I-I do-o-o-n't kn-o-ow," someone stutters. I don't recognise the voice. It is the voice of a man, probably in his late twenties. There's a nervous edge to his voice; one that would innate that of a child's.
The owner of the voice is indeed a middle-aged man. His hair is black, spiked upwards at the back with a white streak of a fringe hanging over most of his face. His sharp facial features twitch anxiously here and there. My eyes lock on the tiny white fangs that protrude from the corner of his mouth. What strange teeth he has. I bet he sharpens them every day. Fang Man; that's what I'll call him.
Tyki's arm is draped over his hunched shoulders.
"Oh. You're no fun," Lize complains loudly. Fang Man's mouth opens several times without emitting a single sound. I manage to get a good look at his sharp fangs. They look sharp enough to pierce flesh. I shiver.
"Yeah. It's just a game of cards. There's no harm." Erne smiles innocently.
The guys are up to their tricks again. Only when they are trying to coax unwary travellers to play cards with them, does Erne carry a genuine grin on his face.
"I-I…"
"There's the lad!" Tyki bellows in triumph, oblivious to the startled expression on Fang Man's face. "Sit, sit."
Tyki forces his hands down on Fang Man's shoulders. Reluctantly, he obeys. What choice does he have?
The rest of the guys sit as well. Eaze and I sit innocently on either side of the group, watching as Tyki deals out the cards. I should stop them, rescue the poor man from his misfortune, but I love to watch the guys play cards. Tyki won't let me because he says I'm too young. Well, what does that say about him, the guy who got his first deck of cards when he was only three?
If the man gets to cold, I'll stop the game. It's a win for everyone.
Free talk:
I hope this fanfic finds you well and thanks for choosing to read this!
Writing in first person, in present tense is hard. So this story is an exercise to improve my writing skills.
My OC's (hope you've picked up her name!) dialogue (or supposed dialogue) is written in italics. Can you guess why? ^^
I hope you enjoy this story and what's to come (because there's a lot coming) and please review/critique/comment/subscribe/favourite, whatever. I would much prefer the first three better though. They're a lot more helpful. But if you could all of them, you are skilled my friend!
But please: try to maybe do the first one thank-you. It will be greatly appreciated.
~FSR