So it was Aisling. (Halloween edition)

Chapter 1

Bitter ice seeped through the poor animal's skin. I stand there in a daze. The world is spinning around. The floating murky water had stained its skin, creating sandy puddles around its being.

I was being sold. I was to be sold into a different land, a different culture, a different tradition, and a different family. I was to be taken care of by people that were not my parents. To be fed from cutleries that weren't as old as age. Or not have fry-ups every morning.

But I was fine with it. It didn't matter. It should not matter because it's their doing. My body rattles as the bitter cold slowly seeping into my lambwool Ruana. The lacklustre shawl did nothing to block out the cold. I was certain I would be dead before my feet touched American soil. No, before I departed from the Queen's country, my body would be harvested for hypothermia. Large curves drawn in the air catch my attention. I straighten my spine as my seller has adorned me in ridiculous clothes and is taking my pictures. To pose for the bidders.

Mathair.

She wildly flails her arms and an eerie crescent draws across her parched, prickly lips. People cast me weird looks. It's 8 in the morning and everyone is miserable but Mathair just pops off like a huge bundle of joy, bringing unsolicited light to everyone's day. 

"Oops" Her giggle is like forks scratching ceramic when someone shoves past her with their musical instrument; a cello. She steadies her camera and attempts to take another picture but more people shove at her making her smile falter. Her eyebrows cringe into frustrated lines and she turns to me with this strong pout and fierce accusing look in her eyes like I was the cause. Might as well have been.

"Move over to that side" She fervently swings her arm indicating me to move over to the right as more people walk by. I am standing there with my luggage, a plaid shawl wrapped over my head, a red knee-length skirt over black leggings to cover my legs, traces of water are scattered all around my luggage, making little sandy puddles under my feet, and my umbrella isn't too far away, besides mom.

I waddle to the side, temporarily moving my bags out of the way of the influx of people. My shoulder sags and I almost fall as I kneel to pick up the bag. Strands of my hair protrude out from under the shawl and I sluggishly tuck it back in. Mom steadies her arms and I can see her make a pinch motion probably zooming in on my black eyebags, messy damp hair, smeared lipgloss, hunch back or how my shawl is one inch off to the side. The only thing to left complete my fabulous aesthetic is a sign board stating my occupation as a homeless orphan.

"I told you not to touch the hair-do" She stumps her feet to the ground and I wonder who's the kid here. I am almost relieved to see the second seller huddle over with my gift bag. Before we came to the arena we are standing in, I had spied a piece of pink jewellery with three equal halves of a heart, perfect for a triple.

Since all this was impromptu...for me, I didn't think of breaking into my piggies bank to use as a means to living, so I really hoped, the fact I was asking my sellers to lend me a few dollars papers wasn't me being a burden. Keyword, seller. Keyword, hope.

Ignoring mom's angry eyes I once again waddle in my soggy shoes to collect my gift bag but inside it are a pair of Halloween masks. "This isn't what I had asked for" I state as my cheeks grow pink, I loosen my tight grip on the paper bag as I stare at the pair of horror-inspiring Halloween masks. I already concluded what had transpired.

"Yeah! well~, Mo Ghradh, I thought it would have been a better idea to share the tradition and love with your cousins over there" Mom chirps in and playfully swabs at my arm, she pauses and looks up through her lashes, staring at Dad. When she catches me staring at her with a wide-open jaw, she coughs up and looks away.