The Storyteller

Three

The streets standing before Nimeuh were lacking of humans besides herself. Yet there was music in the distance, and the fragrance of something she couldn't quite name dancing in the wind. She followed her senses, directed into the heart of the East. Nervousness and joy and a hundred other emotions battled for dominance as the princess advanced upon her destination. Her heart thrummed in her chest with each step. As the indulgent fragrance of nature and warm glow of color-shaded lamps intensified the knowledge that she was almost there enlightened her. Then it happened. One moment she was in the dark, and the next she was surrounded by life. There were scores of people of all ages and shapes dressed in beautifully colored clothes, every one of them adorning a smile. Stalls lined the streets. A large man with dark skin wearing nothing more than a towel around his waist was roasting delicious-smelling meat. Another short thin woman was selling masks right next to him. The two vendors often looked at each other, smiling and talking like close friends. All sorts of merchandise was being displayed, from blossom shaped beads, candied edibles, handmade jewelry, tonics and potions, clothing, even animals! Nimeuh turned in a circle and stared in wonder at her surroundings. Never in her lifetime had she been in the midst of such celebration and variety. She could spend hours scouring the streets and not find a single thing that was the same as another. Every available space was covered in some type of flowering plant. Marigolds, lilies, roses, white jasmine, baby's breath, any flower that grew on the earth was to be found right here in the heart of the East. Lanterns where covered by shades dyed in some variation of a spring color; pinks, blues, greens and yellows danced across the square with the slight breeze. A bonfire raged in the middle of it all, couples and children danced around it as an ensemble of strings and woodwinds sang robust songs. The women all had their hair down, flowers weaved into the locks, while the men had a flower tucked into their pocket. It became apparent that couples wore the same flowers to symbolize their exclusive status. A woman with flaming red hair with a single daisy tucked behind her ear, danced with a man sporting a matching daisy in his breast pocket. The pattern continued, love proclaimed by fleeting flora. The whole village had to be here taking part in the nighttime events. It was breathtaking. Nimeuh was overwhelmed by everything and the smells. Oh stars the smells. It was like she was in a bakery and a greenhouse at the same time. Her mouth watered and was forced to notice just how hungry she was. She hadn't eat all day. Nimeuh started walking, wanting to explore her options before choosing which stall to buy from. There was one in particular she was drawn to, despite its lack of food. An old squat woman was seated inside a tent full of flower crowns. All of them were beautiful in their own way, some made of large ridiculous looking flowers, others nothing more than woven green twigs with a few small buds. Nimeuh stopped to stare at one made of small flowers of several colors. The back was fastened with white ribbon. She loved it and reached to pick it up, when she felt a hand on her waist. Nimeuh startled and looked up. Standing behind her was a burly looking man with an awful sneer. His unkept beard had bits of crumbs stuck in it, eyes a dead black, pot belly prominent. Nimeuh tried to pull away. "Excuse me but just what are you-" she was tugged toward an alley, the mans grip surprisingly strong. "Wassa fine 'lil girl like you doin' alone?" His breath reeked of something foul and sour. Another drunk. Nimeuh pulled away from him and struck at his chest. "Unhand me this instant!" She demanded. He had pulled her into the shadows of the alleyway, her back pressed against the wall. "Who'd you think you are, whore?" His breath was hot on her neck. "Who're you to refuse me?" She could feel his disgustingly greasy beard rub against the bare skin of her collar. At some point he had stripped her of her cloak, and his hands were still working. They were creeping up her front, his touch repulsive and unwanted. Nimeuh started to panic, her breathing ragged. She couldn't think of what to do. Scream maybe. Yes! she should scream. Opening her mouth and planning to release a cry for help only for silence to ensue. One of his sweaty palms were now covering her mouth. Truly, utterly terrified, defenseless. She looked up into the horrible mans face, revolted at the sweat on his forehead and the hunger in his eyes. I don't want to kill him. Her  thoughts desperately search for some other answer, anything but using the cursed ability to cease the beating of a heart. His free hand travels downward to pull up the skirts of her dress. The last thing she remembered was her vision going dark.