short stories

Genevieve and The Erhiya

I wrote this when i was 15, enjoy
(some pretty obvious mortal instrument inspiration)

The street was quiet and cold. The few wandering souls wore thick coats and scarfs, as expected in Manhattan during winter. A girl in similar clothing of dark colors looked out of the alley where she was hiding. The contraption in her arms was hidden under her large, black coat.

Genevieve had always been a very "techy" person. From a young age she has loved fixing things. When she found nothing to fix she would take things apart and then put them back together. As she got older she began to make her own contraptions based off of others. A year or two later ideas started to form in her head. Machines to scan the land in a 360-degree way, within miles, and as every kind of scan out there. It would be far more advanced than any military scanners out there. Machines to write down what you're thinking without having to voice it. That one she had tested with dreams. Her creations were brilliant but she had one problem. How she got all of the pieces for the machines wasn't exactly. . . legal, but the curiosity was too great to ignore the ideas in her head.

She looked both ways before running across the street, her breathing heavy. The harsh, cold air hurt her lungs and her hands were starting to burn from how cold they were. 'I must not forget my gloves next time,' she thinks.

"Hey!" She froze at the loud voice behind her. "Come back here!" She pushed herself again, almost slipping on the icy ground. She pushed herself faster as she heard the man beginning to run after her. So what if she stole from his shop? It's not like he got the items legally either!

Genevieve felt herself fall to the ground as she hit a stiff surface. The large contraption fell away from her just as the man made it to her. He picked up the item, glaring daggers at her. She groaned and rubbed her chest where the contraption had hit before rolling away from her. She was sure she would have a bruise by morning. "You insolent child!" The large man was taller than Genevieve but not very tall overall. What little hair he had was graying. His teeth were a yellow that most know come from smoking. Overall, Genevieve thought he was an ultimate cliché of a man who made her cringe in disgust. "I am calling the police," he hissed and yanked her up by her arm. She felt her breath leave her at the jerky movement. She tried to push his fat hand off of her arm but his grip was too harsh.

"Amelia! What have I told you about getting in trouble?" The man stopped moving, Genevieve not stopping her attempt at getting his hand off of her arm. "Sir, I'm so sorry if my sister has bothered you. We recently lost our parents and she hasn't been right in the head ever since." Genevieve froze. She turned to the voice. Was he talking about her?

The man-no, boy. He looked maybe 17, nothing more. The boy had brown hair and brown eyes. If he truly was there to help her, Genevieve thought he could have been a bit better looking. 'Prince charming usually are', she thought sadly. 'And I have plain old him. At least I think I do.'

"I don't care who you lost she tried to steal from me! I am calling the cops and that's final." The boy sighed in annoyance.

"Yeah, I'm afraid I can't let you do that." The man loosens his grip as he watched the boy pull up his sleeve.

"What are you going to do boy? Fight me? Feel free then I can get both of you thrown into a jail cell." Genevieve rolls her eyes at the boy and continues to try and pry her arm away from the man's harsh grip. In the corner of her eyes she sees a light. With a curious thought, she turns back around, wanting to know what the boy was going to do with what she assumed was a lighter or match. Her eyes widen as she sees a ball of flames in his hand. This seems to shock the man too as he lets go of Genevieve and stumbles back a step. He almost slips on the icy ground but then steadies himself. "You're one of them," he hisses.