Burning

Chapter One

My heart pounded in my ears as the adrenaline rushed through my veins. The rubber soled boots stampeding behind me slapped on the wet pavement, threatening to get closer.

They were fast. But I was faster.

Being quick on my feet came naturally. I always knew what to do to get myself out of a situation.

I seemed to be getting myself into a lot more of those lately.

I pushed my way through the crowds of people in the marketplace, staying light on my feet and took a turn around a small wooden stand. The guards flew past, now running after a non-existant path.

"Hey! Get out of here," the merchant of the stall started yelling at me.

I slipped away behind one of the giant rugs hung on display and through the curtains. He searched around for me on the other side to get rid of me but I was already at the front.

At his station he was selling an assortment of jewels and trinkets, all catching my eye. On my way out I grabbed the closest item next to me and briskly made my way back to the road.

The heavy metal item swung in my pocket of my oversized leather jacket as I made my way through the marketplace. The stands slowly began to dwindle and the paved road crumbled away into gravel leaving a dirt path in its place. Home was getting closer.

Eventually old wooden shacks spotted the horizon and I picked up my pace to a slow jog when I noticed the sun starting to set. Grey shadows fell over the small house and the forest nearby sprouted black trees shifting in the warm breeze.

My house grew out of the short hill home to yellowed grass and tiny violet flowers. The red clay shingles were cracked and falling apart, leaving debris and dust surrounding the wooden walls. A thin chimney supported continuous puffs of smoke and the crawling overgrown ivy gave the house a comforting feeling.

Even though its structure was fragile and falling apart with age, the small beaded dream catchers dangling from the rusted gutter and the fraying curtains blowing through the window gave the entire place charm.

It was home.

And it was suitable. At least a decent enough living condition for our neighborhood and nearly any other place in Flourence.

If you walked far enough west past the marketplace, you would find yourself in the town of Queenside and were greeted with much sturdier and nicer looking shacks. The closer you got to the center of the city, the more clean and polished everything became.

I've never been able to travel past the city, but I didn't have much of a desire to so it wasn't a bothersome thought.

I went around the side of my house to the back where I had a stack of old crates and boxes, forming a makeshift set of stairs to my bedroom window in the attic. I quietly and gently landed on my bed, persuading the springs to stay silent so I wouldn't notify anyone in the house.

The small metal object rested heavy in my pocket. It felt cool and smooth on my fingertips.

"Adeline! Come downstairs." My mother's voice rang through the wooden floorboards. As I made my way through the corridor to the stairs, the smell of bread hit me. Burnt bread.

My younger sister must be trying to bake. Again.

I walked into the small kitchen that also was our dinning area where my father sat reading his book with tattered leather as a makeshift cover. My mother was busy at the countertop finishing up a meal.

"Look, Adeline! I made some bread for you."

Amara lifted a small loaf that she just pulled out of the oven and wrapped in a towel. It was burnt. Very burnt. Yet she still held it up to my face with wide proud eyes.