-
Elisha Starquill replied to the topic Flash Fiction in the forum Parimi Alca Writing Discussions 6 years, 6 months ago
So this is a wee bit over 1500 words, but I couldn’t resist. đ
…
My cheeks were sore from grinning as I darted out from the dark alley. Splashing through puddles muddied with pale lamplight, I dashed across the street and hurried down the cracked, worn steps to the edge of the river. With yet another irresistible smile splitting my face, I plunged into the shadows underneath the stone bridge. Not much of a home, but that would soon change if the days were as lucrative as today.Slipping and sliding on the pebbles that carpeted the irregular bank, I plopped down amidst a ring of stacked crates arranged in such a way that they seemed like mere debris. They kept out the wind fairly well, and allowed me to light a small fire without being seen from the river.
Crossing my legs, I took out the goods from my pocket and spread them out before me. Watches and wallets, mainly, together with the occasional piece of jewelry. Gazing triumphantly over my spoils, my practiced eye suddenly caught the shine of expensive leather. I snatched up the wallet, unclasped it, and eagerly dumped out its contents. To my horror, a flood of cheap beads spilled into my hands instead of the gold coins that filled my every dream. I ripped open the wallet and found nothing except a few lingering beads, two opera ticket stubs, and a neatly folded note.
My mood was as drenched as my threadbare coat was, but I tore the note open anyway in a desperate snatch of hope.
Meet me at the clock tower at midnight.
I have a job you might be interested in.
Bring my wallet with you.An image of the walletâs owner, a young gentleman, flashed through my mind. He looked barely older than me, and completely oblivious as he left the opera with a beautiful young lady on his arm. Apparently not so oblivious. Still, his high class was obvious, and if he had a job for me, Iâd be a fool to refuse. But the clock towerâŠthat was over the river and an uncomfortable ways further.
Suddenly I jumped as the distant peal of bells tickled my ears. Then another one. And another.
I leaped to my feet, hurriedly scooped up my spoils into my pockets, and took off. Good thing I lived right under the bridge.Barely anyone was out at that hour except late night revelers and suspicious looking individuals, all of whom didnât spare my sprinting, shabbily dressed self a second glance. The rain that had lazily drizzled its way into my bones all day had stopped, but during my frantic run my holey boots sucked in half the muddy puddles I splashed through, leaving my feet colder and wetter than the Arctic sea.
At long last, covered in a fresh layer of filth and grime, I stumbled over the clock towerâs looming shadow. It was a fairly well-to-do area, one that I frequented regularly and one that was entirely empty at such an unholy hour.
Panting and licking my dry lips, I scanned the area a second time and still found no one present. Disappointment washed over me as I realized that the bells had stopped gonging ages ago. The young gentleman was probably long gone.
Still, I had raced all that way, and I was determined to get something for my effort. The note had said to meet at the clock tower, but a tower had four sides. It could be any of them.
Slightly heartened, I ran around the corner of the tower and caught the sight of a leg sticking out far too late. I went sprawling onto the muddy cobblestones, but fortunately I was already so filthy it didnât make much of a difference. Then a violent shiver raced down my spine as a cold blade touched the back of my neck.
âStand up.â A firm young manâs voice.
I slowly rose to my feet and turned to face the speaker, startled when I was met with the stern blue eyes of a beautiful young lady about my age. She kept her sword near my throat, and judging from those dazzling, flashing eyes, she was more than ready to use it.
âYouâre late. Half an hour late, to be exact.â
I instinctively glanced up at the clock, but I couldnât see its face from my position. âI had a long way to go.â
The lady narrowed her eyes. âI left the opera at eleven, same time you stole my wallet. It took me fifteen minutes to get here. I expected it would take you the same.â
I held her searching gaze for a moment before shrugging. âSince weâre speaking so candidly, I may as well tell you. I donât look into my stolen goods until Iâm in a safe place. Itâs risky otherwise. Took me about an hour to get home, and I only read your note when the clock was already striking twelve. Ran all the way here.â I peered closely at her. âIâm surprised you waited that long. Really, Iâm surprised a lady of your standing would want to meet with a dirty street thief like me at all.â
She scoffed. âDonât be delusional. I donât want to meet with you, I have to.â
The lady lowered her sword and rested it on the ground as if it was a walking cane. Clearly she didnât see me as much of a threat, seeing as she was lady who was willing to meet me, a stranger, alone at night.
âFirst, you know who I am?â
I looked her up and down. Well-dressed, elegant taste, high class. Typical of most of my clients, except for her sword and previous disguises, which threw off the image of a regular well-to-do lady. Then I caught the sight of an emerald brooch at her throat.
âCountess Jesana.â
She inclined her head, which allowed me to see more of her face which had been covered in the shadow of a lace hat. It was as regal and beautiful as the rest of her, making my heart involuntarily beat faster.
âIndeed. Do you know who the Duke of Visquay is?â
The name flew through my ears and out into the night. âIsnât heâŠlikeâŠreally powerful?â
The Countess nodded, passing over my obvious ignorance. âIncredibly powerful, second only to the king, but also incredibly corrupt. For decades my family has been fighting against their wicked schemes to take over the throne.â
Honestly, if I were a Duke, Iâd be more than content with my station, but I wasnât one to judge.
âRecently the Duke has stolen some important papers that would be the first steps to overthrowing the king. If we donât get them back, there is little that will stop him from achieving that end and launching all of Gleskin into dark times.â
This was news to me, but when it took so much effort to simply survive, I didnât care much for such lofty matters.
âSo you see the situation is urgent, so urgent that I have taken it upon myself to get involved.â She narrowed her eyes. âYou look surprised. Is it because I am a woman? A woman who should not interfere in these high matters?â
I shrugged, twirling a loose piece of fabric on my coat. âYou said it first.â
The Countess scowled, lifting the sword back up. âIf I left it up to the men, nothing would get done. Theyâre too arrogant and cotton-headed to do what is needed.â
I eyed the tip of the sword that was uncomfortably close to my midsection. It awfully looked like what was needed was to kill a poor thief. âAnd that is?â
She fired me a look of pure disdain. âYouâre as cotton-headed as the rest of them. I need you to steal those papers back, idiot. I need you to sneak into the Dukeâs personal estate, find them, steal them, and give them to me.â
I was rendered quite powerless to speak under the enormity of this situation, until the flat cold blade of the metal was reunited with my neck.
âIâd be honoured to, my lady. But what makes you think I can sneak into a highly guarded government building and steal such important papers that are bound to be kept under lock and key? I mean, look at me.â
âOh, I am, and believe me, itâs not a pleasant experience.â The disgust that had been written all over her face, however, suddenly morphed to neutrality. âBut I chose you because Iâve seen you, watched you at work. You have skill. You have potential. Most of all, you have no family or friends, which means if you were killed or captured, on the job, no one would miss you.â
A pang stabbed at my heart. I glared at her. âHow very thoughtful of you.â
The Countess inclined her head again, her face unfeeling. âIndeed.â
âWhy would I undertake a job that is likely to end painfully?â
The sword pressed deeper. âIf you refuse, Iâll kill you.â
I swallowed, acutely aware that carrying out her threat would only take one flick of her wrist. âThatâs a fine reason.â
âAnd if you succeed, youâll get a handsome reward. Money. Lots of it. Enough to live comfortably for the rest of your life.â
A familiar vision flashed through my mind, of no longer having to live on the streets, always watching your back, but of having a home, a real one, with four walls, a roof, carpeted floors, a blazing hearth, a bed with a mattress, and so much more. My ultimate dream.
I nodded. âAlright. Iâll do it. Tomorrow. Today. Right now.â
The Countess smiled, but something about it unsettled me. I shook the feeling off.
âExcellent. Whereâs my wallet?â
I combed through the spoils in my pockets, even untucked them in and out, but to no avail. In my haste, I had left the fancy leather wallet back home, lying somewhere among the pebbles and crates.
The Countess blew out a weary breath, looking sorely tempted to slice my throat. âWe have a long road ahead of us, thief.â












