A Collection Of Short Stories

The book

Lazy days on the beach were my favourite, feeling the sand gently sift through my fingers as I drifted off to sleep in the warm air was just the best.

The pages of the book I was reading fluttered in the wind beside me. I rolled to turn the novel over when I felt a pulling sensation starting with my fingers that were just skimming the edge of my book. Startled from my sleep I tried to move my arm but I was paralysed. I was jolted forward my body stiff, the only sound I could hear was a large slurp before I was blinded by a great green light.

When I regained my sight and my ears had stopped ringing I found myself in the middle of a crowded, muddy street. Around me people hurried by in a blur obviously and openly staring at me. I saw a few people muttering to their companions forcefully while pointing to me. A girl suddenly tapped me on the shoulder, her eyes were large and brown and had an air of familiarity.

'Good day women.' She started confidently as if she had rehearsed this, 'I thought you should know your current attire is deemed greatly improper by me and my clan.' She stopped herself to point at a group of children hiding in an old rusting warehouse, they all had similar hair with the girls plaited and the boys hacked short. It was impossible to tell the colour of their skin or hair they were so coated in mud, their clothes were long, always floor reaching dresses or trousers. She saw me study them and was about to speak again but I cut her off.

'I see nothing inappropriate with my attire,' I was wearing a loose tee shirt and even looser, billowing, patterned trousers.

'Well you see your leg sleeves are inappropriate for a lady and your shirt shows....' She paused to lean closer so I could hear her as she whispered 'your wrists.'

I struggled not to laugh as I looked at the seriousness of her 'acusation'. 'I feel I should wear whatever I like and anyway I prefer trousers over dresses any day.'

The girl stared at me in shock. 'What did you say?' She questioned horrified, before I could answer she answered my puzzled stare. 'Pantaloons should never be called the T word as it is offensive in polite society.' As she explained I nodded and apologised. She accepted my grovoling and lead me to the warehouse.

'Children.' She called as the youth assembled, she took the role of mother splitting them off in pairs to do chores at the property or steal and sell on the street. I turned to her and asked her her age, her reply shocked me as she was only fourteen but desperate to avoid the workhouse. Instead she and her clan of homeless children lead a nomadic existence roaming the streets, avoiding bobbies and scrounging together enough money to survive.

'Others would sent them to sweep or factories but I never let them do it, it's too dangerous and how I got this scar.' She showed a long, white indent going along her previously hidden (under her dress) leg. I was alarmed by her story but repressed the emotion so as to not upset her.

Behind us we heard a commotion and ran over to look. Below us was a large slate table, on top of this was one of Rose's (as I had learned what her name was) children. The child writhing with a deep red blood pouring from one arm silently screamed. A man stood at one end of the table burning different dried herbs and reading chants from a large, dusty black book. The echoing chants stopped abruptly as he called forward another child, obeying on a zombie-like state picked up a small bunch of herbs, dipped it in the other child's blood and then returned it to the man. The child had come from a group which looked like the rest of the clan. They all had blank stares and seemed to sway at the same time as if listening to a song only they could hear.

Me and Rise crept closer, we could now see on the table was a boy with bright blue eyes, Rose gasped and whispered he was called Adam. He was apparently lovely, at only ten he could take anything off anybody. The perfect pick pocket.

Rose practically shook with anger but I held her back before she could damage herself or others.

We crept forward behind the men who was engrossed in whatever was on the page in front of him, then when we were almost at the group of kids the man spun around his eyes instantly on us.

I felt myself being thrown to a wall by an invisible force. I looked to Rose who had gone unnoticed as she ducked behind the children. 'Well, well, well what do we have here?' The man spat at me, 'I am Prospero the great wizard....'

'Let me stop you there buddy.' I said sarcastically as he was about to monologue, 'If you are going to use someone's work, especially someone as amazing as Shakespeare, make yourself just as great. Look at you in your threadbare hand me down suit and greasy hair. You don't deserve Shakespeare's work. A child's scribble would be more in your league.'

He looked at me with such shock as if surprised I might talk back, then as he was distracted Rose had been slapping her kids to snap them out of the trance and had grabbed Adam and was rushing him off to sort out his wound. The dazed children all looked up at the stranger on there land and as one rushed forward in a mighty angry wave.

During the commotion I had slipped from the wall as his magic weakened. From there I grabbed a flaming torch from the wall and lit his books and herbs on fire. Rose gave me a happy nod before she left, then as before I was blinded by green.

Arriving on the beach I looked to the book, unsure if I had simply woken from a dream. I noticed in my pocket was a little bundle of herbs not unlike what 'Prospero' had used and smiled to myself.

Honest moment: I didn't like this story that much but it was half complete and I couldn't think of anything else as I have another exciting project to focus on.
Still if you enjoyed it you can prove it to me by hitting that star.
Sorry if that sounded ride I am EXTREMELY tired.
I hope you get lots of rest and I will stop waffling.

Lx