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I was mesmerized by the sudden downpour of rain. I should have kept running, but by the time I’d gathered my wits around me, it was much too late. I was still within the city gates and confrontation was imminent.
Shadows darted and zigzagged all around me, the first hint that I was in dire trouble. Wet fingers clutched the precious book tighter to my chest, hidden beneath the folds of my cloak, as close to my heart as I dared.
My feet sloshed through muddy puddles as I tried to appear as normal as possible. As if normal was a switch I could turn on and off. Running now would mean certain death and if I was dead, then who would guard this treasure?
The dirty, muddied water seeped through my cloth slippers, freezing my aching feet. Cloth slippers are practical, because they are easily cleaned and repaired. I almost wish I had boots. Anything to keep my feet warm and safe from the sharp rocks and squishy, disgusting things I can’t avoid.
When you are joined to a book as I am, you spend much of your life and soul, to keep it happy. I do everything it tells me, but I dare not give anymore of myself away to protect it. I cannot. It is too much.
Warmth radiated from the book, warming my chilled shoulders and stomach. It was the soft touch I needed to keep my sanity where it should’ve been. I kept my head down, aiming for the edge of the woods. If I dared to look up, I could see the hazy outline of greenness. Freedom was within my grasp. I almost didn’t dare breathe for fear of twisting my own future.
“You there! Girl! Freeze!” The command sliced through misty air.
I swallowed hard and inched forward a half-step, willing it to be some other vagabond they hailed and not me. Dear Lord, please, not me!
“I said stop! Be ye deaf?” Rough hands seized my shoulders and yanked me around.
I stumbled backwards into a cart of vegetables I hadn’t known existed. The ache in my heart began to burn to burn fiercer than the immediate anger brewing beneath my tempered calm.
The hood was jerked back from my face with a good yank that included a handful of my delicate hair. It hurt, but I was silent. I did not look higher than his red and brown-speckled boots.
Ugly boots. Boots don’t get red on them from walking in the streets. You don’t get red on anything…unless…
“Lift yer arms!” He bellowed, prodding me with the end of his blunt stick.
The stick jabbed at the book and I sucked my stomach inward, if he kept this up, I would have no choice. I shook my head, inwardly bracing for the slap that followed.
“This is ‘er, chief!” The guard broadcasted the news down the ranks that filed in, until I was completely surrounded, vegetable cart and all. “A girl in a cloak, with no arms and-” He sniggered. “Cloth shoes. Tha book’s got t’ be on ‘er, this is da right one.”
The captain stomped to the front, with a snort of disgust upon seeing me. I knew his cruel features by heart and closed my eyes when he yanked my chin upwards. “Just hand over tha book and ye kin go, lass. I hoped our next meeting would be under better circumstance…fate must hate tha sumthin’ awful.”
My chest began to ache as the burning grew fiercer.
Oh no. Please no…I don’t think I can stand to go through with this!
I began to tremble as my head shook and my fingers moved to open the book, no longer under my control.
A ring of yellow-gold energy streamed out, knocking the guards senseless into the filth. The very breath of life was sucked out of me as the energies delivered swift punishment to my captors.
I choked and gasped until the energy returned to its vessel, the book I clasped beneath my cloak. I slammed the cover shut with more strength than I had.
Breath was feeble for a moment, then my feet began to move again. Tears leaked out as I stepped over the forlorn bodies.
There was nothing I could do to help them now. They would never believe I was a bookchild. One who carried a book of the ancients and dedicated their lives to preserving the gifts within. To give up my book, meant death.
For their disbeliefs…they were dead. I’d had enough darkness for today. The mist parted as I slunk past the city gates. Perhaps tomorrow I would make up for it.
Dear Father, whatever I have done to deserve this title, please, help me to use it for good and not death or destruction.
Copyright 2008 Sara Harricharan