The Soup Master

Prologue

It was evening in the year of 1929, and the air was crisp with the promise that it would soon be the start of a new, and maybe better year. Unfortunately, that crispness did not result in the usual bubbly cheer that people had grown accustomed to in the years previous during the 1920's. For, during October, the stock market had completely crashed. People had found that the credit and luxuries they had come to enjoy were suddenly no longer available. Their extreme consumerism had left them in debts, which they could not pay. People had started to say that things looked so bleak, it was like the greatest depression known to man. And, as many have come to dub it, this was the time of the Great Depression; a gloomy, lonely time they feared nothing in the world could shake.

Day after day, people wandered the streets, hoping to find a job, or a warm meal. Many found themselves getting more and more exhausted as the months progressed, their bodies showing the strain of their constant efforts with no relief. Many looked like their skin was barely holding onto their bones, almost like a worn out coat might barely keep out the cold. Soup kitchens seemed to open up all over, many trying to take whatever change or money they could get during this time.

On this night, however, there seemed to be a strange, almost anticipatory buzz in the air. The kind of feeling one gets when something big is coming, like the electric buzz of a calm before the storm. And, like most feelings, many of the animals and people felt it, regardless of whether they knew what it meant or not. Many felt that it was a sign that this New Year's Eve would be different from all the others. Many found themselves hurrying that much faster to get home, even though they may not have had any reason to rush. Soon, most of the street was completely clear, and as soon as this was the case, the strange buzz reached its peak.

In a rather large alley, which stood between two other building, a small flash of light seemed to illuminate the space. This flash developed into a veritable funnel of energy, which seemed to be sideways, so that the wide end, and tail end, were parallel to the ground. This funnel hovered over the ground for a few seconds, before it seemed to flicker as though something was in it. Then, shortly after, a figure seemed to tumble from the end. She hit the ground, where the wind was knocked from her lungs for a short moment. When she finally had coughed and hacked the breath back into her body, she looked around, slowly dragging herself to her feet. As she did, the streetlight nearby illuminated her, revealing her to have skin as luminous as the full moon, and hair that seemed almost as straight as a steel beam. Her hair was brown in color, and was pulled into a braid over one shoulder. Her eyes were a brown that matched her hair, and seemed to stand out against her skin. Her face itself was rather angular, with enough softness in the bone structure to give off a sense of hidden power. She was wearing rather short heels, which were a light tan color, and accentuated the light green color of her dress. Her dress had a design of swirls and curves in it that accentuated the small curves in her hips.

The minute she became aware of her surroundings, she looked back in the direction of the funnel, though it appeared to have vanished. A small, choked sob escaped from her lips, and she turned back to face the street, wiping the tears the poured from her eyes. Then, a look of deep anger appeared on her face, and making sure no one was watching, she closed her eyes with an enraged huff, and appeared to concentrate. The streetlight near her seemed to react with her anger, and began to glow brighter. As it did, it briefly flashed with light, before fading to dark completely. Flickering slowly, it finally came back to full brightness, where it illuminated an empty alleyway, the woman who had been there mere moments before now gone.

A few minutes passed, and the street was silent. Then, the vortex reappeared. This time, unlike before, a man appeared. He too seemed to get the wind knocked out of him as he landed. However, unlike the woman before him, when stood up he seemed to look for someone. Upon finding that the street was empty, and careful to avoid the light, he looked around to try and get his bearings. A few buildings down, a light was still on. It was the light to what looked like a soup kitchen. Strangely, the inhabitants seemed to be packing everything into a truck. It wasn't until he saw the sign that read Sold that he realized it was closed completely for any business.

Turning away, he took note of the small space in which he stood. Strangely, with an almost imperceptible flick of his hand, the area seemed to bend and fold on itself, The ground itself seemed to unfold like paper, slowly rising up. As it did, the texture of the cement changed to become wood, cement, brick, or any other varying form of building material. Soon, where there was once an empty alleyway, now stood a soup kitchen of his own. It was as though it had always been there.

Looking up and down the street one final time, the man swiftly entered the building, and closed the door. As he did, down at the end of the street, the hands of a large clock tower moved so that both of its hands were at twelve. It began to ring out as soon as this happened, each chime like an alarm, yelling, "Things are about to change!" into the night. Finally, the last chime rang, and left the small street in a state of eerie quiet, the sound one might associate with the calm before the storm. After all, there was something about the crispness of the air that night, which seemed to whisper the hints of a new secret, and a new story, one which had only just begun.