Ok, so here it is, are you excited? I can't really dedicate this chapter to anyone because you guys suck at being pains in my ass! Naw, even if you have been you wouldn't have gotten anything. I went back to read my reviews because I'm sad (and mostly because I needed a Misty, Talysmin (see, I spelled it right this time, I caught that mistake about a millisecond before I posted, I think it's kind of funny that Alma mentioned it and Talysmin didn't) and Alma fix, because they seem to have abandoned me and then POOF inspiration!
So, for Misty, this still isn't as descriptive as the first chapter. The problem is that I tend to write introductions that are sweeping and elaborate and then in the following sections focus in on thingsÉor something. When it gets down to the part where things actually have to happen all that descriptive skill flies away like a little bird! On the plus side, my comma problem has been getting better I think. I went back and read that first chapter and wanted to shoot myself! I nearly took it down just to add periods!
Anywho, hopefully this means much quicker posts for Niamh, and perhaps some others (HINT HINT) will see her example and follow it (again, in case you missed it, HINT HINT!)
Oh well, enjoy!
Niamh
The rain had ruined the wash the previous day, and it had ruined Mesiree's night. Clothing had to be hung inside the washrooms, which meant that only two loads had been completed. Not nearly enough to finish what the collectors had brought in. Not nearly enough to warrant filling every wash cauldron. Not nearly enough to give Mesiree mist to dream in that night.
She'd sat, curled in upon herself and staring into the middle of the room as she had on every previous night. But no dreams came. Mesiree sat awake until the sun rose. But only small wisps of smoke passed before her eyes. When the bell rang and the soapy water dropped from the door above her cauldron, Mesiree was still awake.
If yesterday had been slow and maddeningly empty, this day could only be called impossibly busy. This day they had nearly two days washing to finish and the drying fields were still an inch deep in mud. Which meant the dryers, who were used to dashing about on the cracked, hard packed ground, were now slipping as soon as they set foot outside the door. A misfortune that, more often than not, ended in an entire basket of clean linens lying in the mud and, once the wash mistress reached him, a very sore dryer.
All these things put together made for a very tense, very testy washroom and a very scary wash mistress.
Mesiree hauled herself up off the floor and waited for the cauldron to finish filling. As the hot water poured in, a soft steam rose from the cauldron and somewhere, deep within it, Mesiree could see dreams beginning to form. Before they had taken shape however, the bell sounded above her and, without even waiting for the buzzer, one of the sorters shoved a load through the chute, barely missing Mesiree's head and splashing her face with hot, soapy water.
As she blew the water out of her mouth and wiped it from her eyes Mesiree heard one of the other washers chuckle.
"No daydreaming today girl" the woman said "wash mistress would tan even your hide for that.
Mesiree nodded and turned back to her cauldron. Generally she paid very little attention to what the others said to her unless they were giving her an order. This comment, however, bubbled somewhere in the back of her mind. What had she meant, Ôeven your hide? She didn't have much time to think though, if they wanted to catch up that day, everyone would have to do twice the normal work load.
By mid afternoon, however, Mesiree had started to fade. The oppressive heat and humidity of the washrooms had begun to drag her down. She desperately needed sleep. Sleep, however, was not an option. As the seventh load of washing dropped from the chute above (still about nine left to wash, according to Mesiree's tally) Mesiree tried to blink her weariness away. She was falling behind and she knew it, it wouldn't be much longer before the wash mistress knew it too.
"Mesiree!
Here it was. She would tan even your hide for that.
"Mesiree!
She took a deep breath and blinked again, hoping she didn't look too weary before she dashed off to find the wash mistress.
"Gone for most of the day.
Mesiree hadn't really been paying attention to the gossip that day; she had been concentrating too heavily on staying awake.
"Rain like a bed sheet in front of your eyes.
Apparently something had happened yesterday.
"Didn't even go to the meeting that day, sent his advisor.
Something to do with the prince.
"Mesiree!
The girl quickened her pace and tuned out the gossip once more as she appeared at the mistress' elbow.
"What's the problem with you today girl?" the mistress asked harshly, "your sluggish.
With no way to answer her Mesiree only looked woefully at the larger woman. The wash mistress gave a frustrated sigh and began to make exaggerated hand motions.
"Are you hungry?" she asked as she mimed eating, "Or sad?" now she was scrubbing at her eyes "angry, what?
Mesiree folded her hands and laid her head on them, closing her eyes.
"Tired?
Mesiree nodded.
The wash mistress put her hand to her head in a gesture of exhaustion and ordered Mesiree out to the clotheslines, saying someone else would take over her cauldron for the rest of the day.
Mesiree nodded and scampered off to grab an empty basket. The other dryers greeted her with a nod of their heads but nothing more. Their usual gaiety had disappeared. Nearly half of them looked wet and muddy and sulky, a consequence, she assumed, of having fallen and scattered washing into the mud.
The muck nearly covered her toes and slid under her feet every step she took, but the sun shone brightly and the air was clear and Mesiree could feel some of her weariness slip away.
"Came back and went straight to the ruins.
"He'd been gone for hours.
"Silent and looking strange.
"Hours.
Mesiree shook her head and pushed the dryers voices away. She didn't care that the prince had disappeared yesterday, and it didn't matter to her were he went or how he looked. All that mattered to her were the sheets that flapped in front of her face, and the line of washing that stretched to her right.
Pull. Fold. Bend. Stand. Pull. Fold. Bend. Stand. This was simply another pattern. Pull. Fold. Bend. Stand. Mesiree liked patterns; she liked knowing that there was order and that she could trust it.
Pull. Fold. Bend. Stand. Pull. Fold.
"Mesiree
Her head jerked up instinctively. She'd heard her name, but it hadn't been the wash mistress who'd called. A moment later she shook her head and turned back to the clotheslines, deciding she'd imagined it.
"Pull. Fold. Bend. Stand.
"Mesiree
Pull. Fold.
"Mesiree
Bend. Stand.
"Mesiree
It was coming from across the fields; somewhere out beyond the boundaries she had set for herself.
"Mesiree
It seemed to be getting more insistent.
"Mesiree
More demanding.
"Mesiree
Caught between staying within her boundaries, completing the task assigned to her and answering to the call of her name, Mesiree hesitated.
"Mesiree
Finally she abandoned her basket and left the drying fields, with the other dryers gaping after her.
As Mesiree scrambled over the slick stones that littered the grounds across from the drying fields the voice still whispered on the wind.
"Mesiree" it called "Misery
She barely noticed the change in the call.
"Mesiree
These ruins, she had heard, had once been the childhood home of the prince, which perhaps explained why they were allowed to remain intact in a city so scrapped for space and materials.
"Misery
She'd heard that no one set foot in these ruins but the prince, people were terrified of and enthralled with them, just as they were with him. An obsession she could not understand.
"Mesiree
She had cleared the ruins and was now entering one of the other sectors. The call hung in the air and died away. This was, apparently, where it had wanted her to go. People bustled about on the mud-slicked streets, heading home to their families, their warm fires, and their full tables.
Mesiree shook off the thought and the envy it incited. She had enough food, enough warmth, and if she was lonely, perhaps it was her own fault.
"Mesiree
Suddenly the scene before her changed. The air seemed to still and the people froze. Mesiree went cold and her breath caught in her throat. Sweeping over the city wall was an inky thick shadow, so viscous and dark that it seemed to swallow the light and steal the warmth from the air. It rolled over people and they collapsed in its wake. Everything in Mesiree screamed at her to run, to hide herself somewhere, but her feet seemed rooted to the ground and her body felt as heavy as wet linens.
The woman beside her staggered and fell, her screaming child tumbling after her. Mesiree's mouth was gaping open but no sound came from it, her voice seemed to be caught somewhere behind her throat. The shadow was nearly upon her now and Mesiree could feel her whole body tremble. It was hanging in the air before her and within it, just as she had every night within the mist, Mesiree saw images begin to form. Horrible things. A woman screaming, a little girl torn from her home, a glass ball shattering on the ground.
The shadow shuddered and swirled into the form of a man.
"Misery" he said with an oily laugh. He lifted a hand and caressed her cheek, "We will meet again.
Mesiree staggered and collapsed on the ground as the shadow slipped back over the wall. The woman beside her was still breathing shallowly. The child was dead. Mesiree didn't know what to do.
Misery
Yeah, so tell me what you liked, tell me what you didn't, tell me about your three legged dog, just review! Hee hee!
Niamh