Arabian Wishes
The plot bunnies have struck once more. I have admittedly been on a hiatus of sorts. Mostly because of one final college course and my depression sucked some of the inspiration out of me. But bouncing off of ideas with friends whilst on Skype has revived the juices so to speak. So thank you my Skype friends for rejuvenating my plunnies. I shall always be grateful.
You know who you are.
"It was a dark and stormy night. . .
"No no no, that's a horrible beginning!
"Besides, there's never any storms around here." A man muttered as he busied about his stall, various trinkets and relics scattered about a old table that seemed on the verge of collapsing under its own weight. Of course it has three legs so that would be more than likely.
He glanced up, startled. "Oh, I didn't see you there." His violet eyes twinkled under the headscarf he wore about his face and the glint of some sort of golden eye tattoo stamped onto his forehead. Golden strands peeked out from under the hood.
"Would you care to hear a story?" He asked mischievously. The camel that was standing near him bleated unhappily in response.
"That's horrible Janet!" The man reached over, clamping a hand to the camel's mouth.
The camel bleated again and the man frowned, pulling his hand away and shaking the drool off of it.
"I've told you once I've told you a thousand times, that joke was funny one time." The man sighed and turned back to the camera.
"Besides, my name is not Brad." He coughed once. "Ignore Janet. She's a bit of a pill at times. Anyway, you came here to hear a story, not to listen to Janet's horrible and cliched jokes.
"So, let me begin. . .
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The warm lights of the torches cast the city in a warm glow as two children peered out from a window in a since abandoned story. The younger of the two was a girl of six, maybe seven years, with auburn hair that just brushed her shoulders. Her hazel eyes reflected the torch light, full of hope for a better future. The older of the two by a few years had shaggy blonde hair that was frequently compared to the mane of a lion, both in color and volume. His eyes were the color of the freshly soaked earth, deep and brown. Both of them wore clothes that were ragged and dirty, repaired many times over with whatever scraps of clothing the could scrounge up.
"And then what happened?" She asked eagerly. "What happened after he rubbed the lamp? Did the yami grant him the wishes?"
"You know the answer already Serenity! I've already told you this story so many times!" He chided her half-heartedly.
"I know, but Joey!"
Joey sighed. "Of course he did silly!" He reached out and ruffled her hair.
". . .Joey?"
"What?"
"Are yamis real? Do they actually grant wishes?"
"I don't know! I've never met a yami."
Serenity sighed wistfully "I wish we could meet a yami. . .Then we could wish for our parents back."
"I don't think we can wish for our parents back. . ." Joey told her sadly.
"But dad's not dead! He's just missing!" She insisted.
Joey said nothing but instead looked out the window out to the city of Agrabah and out to the palace. He wondered for a moment what it would be like to live in such opulence, with servants, money clothing, and food.
"Is something wrong Joey?" Serenity asked quietly. She hated it when he went into these pauses of silence. What resulted was either some crazy scheme to get them out of their situation, which never really worked, or he said something that struck too close to home.
"I promise you Serenity, that one day we'll get out of this mess. . ."
"I know that."
"And if I ever meet a yami, I'll let you meet him first."
Serenity's face lit up in absolute delight. "Really?"
"Of course! I never break my promises!" Serenity reached out, enclosing her older brother in a crushing hug.
"Thank you Joey!"
"Oof, you're crushing me!"
". . .sorry."
Joey smiled as Serenity sat back, landing in the pile of scrap blankets they managed to pickpocket or find in the debris. "You should get some sleep Serenity."
"You too."
"I'm getting there, I'm getting there." Joey clambered into the pile next to her. "Good night Serenity."
"Good night Joey."
"Love you sis."
"Love you too big brother."
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The early morning sunbeam peeked through the gaps between the buildings of the marketplace. Many of the bakers and food vendors were already out, prepping their wares for the day.
For Joey this was the best time of day.
The busier they were, the easier it was to steal from them.
He sauntered over to the nearest one, a baker selling fresh loaves of bread. Joey eyed one in particular, a loaf of honeyed bread that was Serenity's favorite. The baker eyed him warily.
"You buying or what?" the baker asked suspiciously, one eyebrow raised.
"No no," Joey insisted, hands upright. "Just smelling your wonderfully baked bread."
"Well it isn't here for show. Just buy it and be over with it!"
"Okay okay, sorry about that. I'll get going. Have a lovely morning." He sauntered away, whistling innocently with his hands behind his back.
Just then, his companion, a small money named Tristan caught up with him, passing off the loaf of bread that he had just plucked whilst the baker had been distracted by Joey. They ducked away before the baker realized what had happened.
"So what do you think Tristan? Will he figure it out or not realize it?" Joey asked cheekily.
"Guards! Guards! That street rat stole my bread!"
"Guess he figured it out." Joey looked behind him to find a crowd of guards, charging at them, their scimitars drawn out of their scabbards.
One of them locked eyes with Joey and snarled, "There he is! Grab that street rat!"
"Looks like its my cue to get out of here." He bolted behind a pile of rugs into a side alley, where it opened up to another section of the marketplace, this region far busier than the other.
He nearly crashed into an acquaintance carrying a basket of silks.
"Oof! Sorry about that Tea!"
"Getting into trouble this early in the morning Joey? That seems to be a record for you." she smirked, balancing the basket on one hip.
"I gotta help these guards get exercise somehow right? Some of them look like they need it."
She snorted. "One of these days you're going to get yourself killed. And then what will happen to Serenity?"
"Hopefully somehow marry into a rich family," he joked.
He paused, the guards' voices growing louder and louder. "Well gotta go. Don't feel like getting my head chopped off."
He ran past her, muttering to himself, "All this for a measly loaf of bread. I mean, he can make another one right. . .?" As he entered the streets, nearly plowing into a group of young women, he frantically looked about, searching for a way out. It did seem rather extreme all for a single loaf of bread." He took off to his left just as the guards were spilling out of the alleyway, also colliding with the group of girls. Curious, Joey took a glance back to find them in close pursuit, to the point where Joey could see the gleam of their scimitars. He blanched.
"I think I may have made a terrible mistake!" He shouted, leaping skillfully over a pile of rugs, The market place was bustling, with stalls and carts overflowing with goods jammed in any empty space they could placed it. People flooded the market place in throngs, making it nearly impossible to maneuver through with little trouble.
But not for Joey.
His pants, cream colored with multi-colored patches and billowing, nearly caught on one of the guard's scimitars as said guard swung the sword in a wild manner. Joey turned to the monkey perched precariously on his shoulder. "Tristan, the things I do for my sister-aaaahhhhh!" He tripped over a cart, sending fruit flying through the air. He recovered by rolling underneath a stall that sold incense managing to squeeze between the wheels. Using his newly gained momentum as an advantage, he skillfully jumped across a series of massive clay vases and reached out to grab a pole, once used to support the many fabric canopies that dotted the landscape in bright, almost garish colors. He swung once, then twice to launch himself into the air and land on the nearest flat roof.
Joey spun around to find the guards circling the building like hungry jackals looking for their next meal, trying to find a way to catch him. Joey stuck out his tongue in reply.
Yes," he began, glancing about to find a way off. "I have made a terrible mistake."
Tristan made an exasperated noise in reply and rolled his eyes in response.
"Like you have an bright ideas-that's it!" A long and slender pole caught his attention and he grabbed for the far end. "Better hang on tight Tristan. It's gonna be a wild ride." Joey jammed the loaf of bread in his mouth before he charged for the edge of the roof, screaming at the top of his lungs. The pole caught the edge of the roof and the pair shot upwards in the air like an arrow from a bow. They sailed gracefully over the gap between the two buildings before promptly landing on the other roof in an undignified pile of limbs and tails.
"You can let go Tristan," Joey said, prying the monkey's vice like grip off his shoulders. "We're not going to die."Just then, Joey peeked down to find the guards bursting their way into the building next door. "But I say that we get going before we actually do die."
The pair bounded over the roofs of Agrabah , leaving their pursuers far behind them.
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
He slid down a pole into one of the alleyways of the poorer side of Agrabah. "Finally," he sighed gustily. "We made it. I vote we take a quick rest before we get this to Serenity—hey! Get your hands off of that!" Joey scolded, pulling the loaf away from Tristan's grasp. Tristan scowled at the man as he crossed his arms in disappointment. "Look, I know you're hungry, but I'm hungry too and you don't see me shoving my face into it now do you?" Tristan sighed and shook his head. "Exactly."
They heard a rustling noise and the pair froze, Joey hastily hiding the loaf behind his back. Could the guards have actually come all this way just for a measly loaf of bread? If so, he was actually impressed with them for once.
Two children dressed in a poor facsimile of clothing—which were really more like rags hanging off their starving frames—cautiously walked out from behind a building, looking for food. Their cheeks were hollow, their skin tone sallow and unhealthy.
"Oh. . ." Joey trailed off, his heart breaking at the sight, the loaf of bread slowly emerging back into view. The boy of the pair glanced over at them, his eyes hungrily peering at the bounty of food clutched in his hands.
Tristan, who had already guessed Joey's next move, tugged at the bottom his vest, shaking his head "no".
"Oh come on." Joey said, gesturing to the children. "Serenity will understand, I know she will." He walked over to them. "Here, I have something for you." He held out the loaf. "Take it."
The girl hesitated for only a moment before grabbing it greedily. She split it in two to share with her younger brother. Overwhelmed with joy, the young boy hugged Joey's leg in gratitude. "Thank you," the girl whispered to him.
"Don't worry about it. I can get more where that came from." He winked and she giggled. Tristan sighed, shaking his head.
They turned suddenly, watching as the crowd began to gather a few yards away, in front of the imposing gates that lead into the compound that was the royal Palace. "Wonder what's happening," he mused. A breeze blew through, taking the boy's head scarf with him. Panicked, he ran through the legs of the crowd, hoping to reclaim the errant piece of clothing.
"Wait get back here!" Joey shouted, running after him.
They burst into the crowd to a man dressed in all white robes, roses embroidered in gold and red silk thread. The horse he rode upon was dressed in a similar fashion. A white riding whip was in one hand as the other, encrusted with many rings, clutched a set of white silken reins.
Joey would have been impressed were it not for haughty expression on the rider's face. Cold eyes, imppecable blond hair, he reminded Joey of the statues that dotted the city: cold and empty. Joey watched in horror as the scarf landed just at the hooves of the horse, the child caring little of the sight, only to get his scarf back.
The hoard whinnied and reared back, startled. The man snarled and swung the whip. "Out of the way, you brat!"
Just in time, Joey interceded, allowing the whip to strike his bare forearm and wrap about it like a serpent would. With a jerk he pulled it to the ground, the pristine leather, now soiled from landing in the mud. "He's just a kid!" Joey proclaimed, the welts on his arm already appearing in rapid succession.
"And you! Stay out of my way you street rat." he sniffed, before nudging the flanks of his horse and gesturing for the gates to open.
Joey smirked and cupped his hands around his mouth before shouting, "I don't know about you guys, but it isn't very often that you see a horse with two rear ends!" The crowds burst into laughter.
Both horse and rider paused, the rider turning about slowly, an ugly sneer marring those once perfect features. "But while I am a noble of the most prestigious and noble bearing, you will live as a street rat and you will die as you lived: surrounded by refuse and the fleas! There will never be a chance for you, street rat."
Joey grimaced, absently rubbing the welts on his arm, watching the man ride away with a dirty look.
"Announcing Lord Jean-Claude!" The gates shut with an impressive "thud" and the crowds dispersed quickly, their curiosity sated.
Joey turned to Tristan, "I don't have fleas. . .do I?"
Tristan shrugged and made a noise as if to say "I don't know."
Joey sighed."Come on, let's go home. This day has gone from bad to worse and I don't feel like giving poor Serenity fits because I came home late. . ." They shuffled off into the narrow alleyways, feeling dejected. "We'll get there one day," he promised Tristan. "I'm not just a street rat and neither is my sister. We'll get there someday, I just know it."
For the record, the entirety of this fic was mapped out in the span of a few hours. No joke, I had everything planned in three hours. It's not going to be too long, maybe anywhere from five to six chapters at the most. It will be a nice little boost to get my writing back on track.
And yes, that was indeed a "Rocky Horror Picture Show" reference. No, I don't have any shame about it.
