This is my NaNoWriMo project. I did not win (cause of a sudden increase of work and the fact there was only one computer in the house between five people). However, I do have most of the chapters done, so I'll post them in a relatively regular pace. I WILL update Imaginarium, kittens, and The Boy in the Trap. But again, I share a computer with five people.
Winter had once again returned to France. The war had just ended, and many of the European nations were in ruins. It seemed that only France had survived the total devastation, thanks to the seemingly unending strength of the franc. But even with the war over, work never seemed to end for those in the Red Light districts of the 'unmentionable' parts of Paris, France. Street Walkers, Brothel Workers, Drug Dealers, underground markets; the red light was booming in business since the soldiers who had returned seemed to need a way to forget the horrors of the battlefield. Sometimes there did not even want the sexual end of a prostitute's work or the high the dealers offered, they just wanted someone to talk too. Someone to listen of the bloody tales that wove in and out of their nightmares; tales of screams and fire and blood, deafening gunfire combining with bellowed orders and planes firing overhead made for a horror story of the senses as the men spoke.
But as the snow fell over the district, one woman, no older than twenty, stood to the side of a wall. She was dressed in a simple but eye-catching short skirted gown that accented her legs but left her no defense against the wind of the France winter. She was waiting for a client, her red hair done up in twin pigtails that made her look younger and more energetic than she felt. Her face was covered in makeup, done up to make her look like a proper whore, cheeks aflame with both cold and blush, lips painted a deep burgundy that sent a look of purple into her hair. She rubbed her nose a little, feeling it run against the cold air that swept past her face. It was cold, and her tights did nothing to protect her legs from the wind as it began to pick up the dry flakes of snow and sweep them along the streets like wayward spirits; it was lonely tonight.
The silence defended her as she waited, looking over to the nearby clock tower to check the time. Her client was late and she was shaking now. It was too cold for her to be working tonight, but she needed the money to pay for dinner this week for her and her two partners in crime, as it were. The three had agreed once-upon-a-time many years ago to blend their money together in order to make brothel life easier. They all shared the same dream, to one day save up enough money to leave the brothel and prostitute life behind for a better one. Her heels clicked against the snowy ground as she shuffled around, trying in vain to make her body warm up as the wind once again died down, and the flakes falling against the ground in silent blankets. No one was on the street tonight, not even the Street Walkers or the police. She was completely alone.
Ten more minutes passed in silence before she decided the cold had kept her client and free dinner at bay. She sighed. It was the way of the prostitute, unfortunately. Some days went better than others, and some days were like this: silent, cold and dinnerless. She uncrossed her arms and pushed away from the wall, it was time to go back. At least the brothel was warmer and she had the blankets on her bed that kept the winter chill at bay. Her blankets were nowhere near as warm as Madam Red's, since the older woman had long been at this business and had a few wealthy patrons, but at least she was not sleeping on the streets anymore. She walked past many an orphan on the street who took shelter in over turned trash cans during winter when the police were away from the back alleys. She could not help them, she had barely enough money to pay for food herself. Most of them would end up in a brothel themselves, or as street walkers, or even in a rich man's collection.
But anything was better than starving and freezing on the streets. The war had left many orphans though, and the winter was harsh, and many times she had walked over the frozen corpses of a child holding their younger sibling to them in a vain attempt to keep them warm through the night. She desperately wished she could have spared a coat or a blanket, but she truly had nothing to give. And the brothel was not hers to give shelter too. And since she had recently messed up quite a few arrangements due to her own stubbornness and refusal to do certain things with her clients in the public parts of the brothel, it was unlikely a hint or push from her would change the Madam's mind. In fact, it would probably make the owner of the brothel fire her and send her back to the streets. That was something she could not afford.
As she passed yet another snow-covered ally, a small sound caught her attention. A tiny mound of snow suddenly shifted at the click of her heels, moving away as if terrified. This caused her to pay attention closely to it, since most of the orphans in the streets would move closer to the sounds of people passing by. This one moved away, as if terrified of her passing by. Taking a risk, she walked towards the lump, through the shin-deep snow as it moved away. Eventually the snow fell from the figure, revealing a small boy covered in a thick coat that was more of a blanket to him. Whoever had left him here obviously left him with some defense, which was better than most of those abandoned in the Red Light. She continued pursuing the boy, until he was pressed against the far wall and unable to escape. As she came within touching distance the child whimpered, burrowing further into the coat.
"P-please. Go'way." A tiny voice pleaded. He could not have been older than four. "Go'way."
"Hey, don't worry," she responded, kneeling in the snow against her better judgment, "I won't hurt you. My name is Meyrin, what's yours?" She asked gently.
"N'body. Go'way." The boy responded, clinging to the coat as the wind once again stirred the flurries of snow into tiny tornadoes in the limited area of the ally.
"Come on, what's your name? I won't hurt you." She tried again, putting her hand on his shoulder on top of the jacket, feeling how cold the fabric was already getting. "Are you cold?"
The tiny being nodded, the jacket moving up and down as he did.
"Are you hungry?" She asked again. Once again the nod shook the jacket. She smiled gently. "Okay, how about you tell me your name and I'll take you someplace warm and get you something to eat?" She offered. Why mercy had suddenly gripped her was beyond her, perhaps because this boy was so young. Or perhaps because he clearly had an older man's winter coat, meaning someone once cared very deeply for him once or still did.
The tiny body shifted, revealing a tiny head of slate-to-black hair and a pair of lapis eyes. He was smaller than she expected, skinny and weak looking. He would freeze to death in hours rather than days like most those left here. His nose was already bright red and his lips were fighting to stay pink as blue began to outline them. "I-I Ciel." He said quietly, teeth chattering in the wind before he ducked back into his makeshift fortress. Meyrin smiled to herself, it was an appropriate name for one with eyes the color he did. He would be a beautiful man when he grew up. Meyrin decided then that she had to save this boy, at least this boy. Maybe it would be to make up for all those children she passed on the street who were dying alone. Maybe it was because she had never seen one so young left behind. And it was clear he was barely holding on, even with the jacket covering him.
He was shivering again, wheezing breaths seeming to fight their way from his blue lips as the cold began to bite down on the coat. Meyrin moved then, her own teeth chattering from the cold as the snow soaked into her tights and shoes as she lifted the boy-jacket and all-into her arms. Her feet stung, like glass shards instead of stone as she forced her numbing legs to work. She had another three blocks to go, and her legs were fighting her every step of the way. Shots of pure pain shot up her legs with every step, numbness combing with painful pins and needles as her heels bit harshly. Her skin was like glass, shattering with every step and rebuilding for yet another step as she remembered the tiny bundle in her arms. She positioned the coat again, trying to keep the wind away from him as she walked slowly, heels threatening to crack and break under her awkward gait. Snow was pushed away by her movements, no longer picking up her feet but dragging them through the snow, making the pain in her feet double. She refused to stop.
Her feet were numb by the time the lights of the Black Lace, the brothel she called home, came into sight. She almost wept with joy at the sight and her feet seemed to pick up, despite her inability to feel them. She moved the bundle in her numbing arms, panic welling in her heart as she felt him flop like a dead weight. No... She thought to herself, please don't die on me, Ciel. Not you. She pleaded, holding the boy closer against the wind, willing her body heat to somehow restore him.
"Don't worry, Ciel," she spoke, teeth chattering, "We're almost there. Soon there will be food and water and you can sleep on my bed. I'll even steal one of Red's blankets for you." She muttered, as if her words would bring him back to instant life and he would perk up. She stepped out on to the shoveled cobblestones of the area in front of the brothel. She did not bother to go through the front, she would get caught by whoever was working the front. And whoever braved the storm for an easy night would surely question why she was carrying a child that was clearly not hers. She decided to go through the back. Once she swept inside the door, the heat of the place instantly flooded her senses and within seconds she felt her face tingling and pain returning to her feet. But she could not stop and check on her package yet, not until she was in the safety of her room.
She passed a few fellow workers, who all shot her questioning looks, but nothing more than that occurred. For the most part the brothel workers would not rat each other out, as long as you did not rat them out. She pushed open the door for the three-bed room she shared with her two closest friends and was quick to place her bundle on her bed. She whipped off the jacket and put her ear to his mouth. She was relieved when she heard tiny breaths coming from the boy, but his body was freezing quickly and Meyrin knew she had to warm him up as quickly as possible. Stealing the blankets from Madam Red's bed and wrapping the boy tightly, she grabbed her sleeping robe and rushed into the bath house, quickly feeling one of the client baths with as hot of water as she could stand with her hands. She soaked the bathrobe until it was as hot as the water before she returned to him and wrapped him in the robe as well as the blankets.
She heard a loud noise outside and new her roommates had returned and once the two older workers swept into the room, she whipped her head to them tearfully.
"Grell! Angelina! Help me! He stopped breathing and his body is so cold!" She cried, making the other two stop suddenly.
"What are you talking about?" The voice of the elder woman came to her before Meyrin moved to the side, revealing the tiny body wrapped in the thicker blankets. Instantly the woman was at his side, checking him for signs of life.
"Meyrin, grab all the towels you can find in our room and heat them up the way you did the robe, also bring a basin or two of hot water. Grell, change the blankets out every time the towels are changed, which will be every ten minutes or so. We need to get his temperature up now." She barked and the other two quickly carried out her orders. Meyrin would have to explain herself and these actions later, she was sure of it, but as she carried in the basins of hot water and watched Angelina warm the cloth on his head before it got cold and she eagerly ran from bathhouse to room to keep hot towels nearby the boy.
It seemed like hours before color returned to the boy's face and Angelina declared he was a normal body temperature again.
"Though, he will need to stay bundled up tonight." She said, standing.
"But that means one of us will be without blankets." Complained the only male in the room, a flamboyant red-head known as Grell.
"I'll sleep with him." Meyrin said quietly. "I found him, so I'll stay with him." She said timidly. Angelina nodded and laid in her own bed, returning the blankets to her bed and laid in them. Grell did the same after locking the door to their room before returning to his own bed. Meyrin climbed into bed with the tiny boy, pulling him close to her body and covering them both in the blanket. She knew it would be hard, taking care of this boy and convincing her partners to do the same, but she felt close to this boy now. And nothing would ever tear them apart.
I want love for this project, kittens. You know I love you (I write these things, gosh darnit), but I need to know you love me back. I take criticism and if you find and error, please point it out for me so I can fix it.
Please be reminded that it's often the reviews that make a story popular (and people are more likely to click on a story with more reviews—and you know it. Don't lie). So if you like a story, leave it a review. SERIOUSLY.
Love,
Petra Jade