Shade lay as still as possible on the rough, straw-filled stacking that was serving tonight as a bed. He kept his eyes wide open, staring at the cracked and stained ceiling, hardly hearing the chatter, arguments, and weeping that rose around him. He wasn't thinking of much; only idly wondering where he would scrape together the money for the next night's accommodation - in Spitalfields in the 1880s, the question of where money for food and accommodation was ever present.
He was exhausted; the previous night had been spent wandering the streets, never stopping in one place for too long for fear of having his few possessions and even fewer coppers stolen. All that night, and this evening, Shade had been searching the streets for any source of income that would mean a night in a common house rather than another night on the streets. He had even wandered out of the area directly around Spitalfields, to an area which was lined with theatres and bright oil lamps. Here, well dressed ladies and gentlemen had been strolling from plays, chatting and laughing loudly with friends as they made their way home for a nightcap before sleep in a feather bed. Shade had been hard put to keep from gawking at these beautiful beings of light and happiness. Here, the ladies not only wore stunning jewels around their necks, they had them twined through their hair, and dotted along the skirts of their dresses. All these jewels caught the oil lamps light, sending shimmering rainbows playing along the pavements.
Shade had kept to the dim parts of the street, positive that if he had been seen by a policeman, he would be thrown none too gently from the street. Whenever one of the ladies caught sight of him, they would cringe away, and the gentleman they were with would glare at Shade until he moved away, often stroking the intricate hilts of daggers, or the pommel of a cane. The children of these high class people stared at Shade with open curiosity, every now and again throwing a copper to him which Shade, smarting with embarrassment and shame, would grab greedily. Some of those children, out for a night of theatre and fun with their parents and friends, weren't much younger than Shade, and yet their faces were soft and innocent, with no knowledge of the world as Shade had seen it.
Now, in the cramped, overfull upper room of one of the seedier common houses, a fight had broken out. Yelling rang through the room, loud even over the other arguments and raucous laughter of the other occupants, who were watching the fight with glee. Shade ignored the ruckus and continued staring silently at the ceiling. He was more than tired now. His eyelids felt heavier than ever before, and he slowly allowed them to close, the noises of the room growing more and more distant as he drifted deeper into sleep.
When Shade opened his eyes again, he knew he was dreaming. The clue was in the beautiful girl sitting on the edge of his bed, looking down at him with big, liquid brown, sorrowful eyes. Behind her, Shade could see the other occupants of the room. The fight was still going on, and a large crowd had gathered around the two men. He could make out people placing and taking bets on the outcome, but he couldn't hear them. The mouths were moving, but no sound was coming from them. As the girl on his bed shifted, Shade returned his attention to her. She had noticed his open eyes, and was smiling gently at him. It was then that Shade realised what was so different about her. Her skin was white, clear, and above all, clean. Perfectly clean. She seemed to radiate the dim light of the room. He sat up, staring at her.
"Hello, Shade," She smiled kindly at him. Shade felt no surprise that this girl, no matter how clean and beautiful she was, knew his name. Though he was not notorious, or all that well known, the citizens of Spitalfields grew to know their neighbours pretty quickly.
"Hi..." Shade was mesmerised by her eyes, which pierced his soul.
"Do you want to come with me, Shade?" Her eyes were sad again, but her smile didn't falter.
"Where... where are you going?"
"Does it matter? It's away from here. Why don't you come with me?"
Shade frowned.
"What if where you're going is worse than here?"
The girl's calm, smiling face froze. She frowned slightly, looking confused. She hesitated for less than a second before regaining the comforting smile.
"Shade, come with me. It will be better, believe me."
"No."
"No?" Now she looked extremely confused. "You... you don't want to come? You must come."
"If I had a choice, why did you ask?" Shade was feeling annoyed.
"I... I always ask. You're the first to refuse. The first ever." She looked thoughtful. Confused, but thoughtful.
"Who are you?" The voices of the others in the room were beginning to come back into hearing. There was something strange about this dream, something... un-dreamlike, realistic. He could feeling the rough, scratchy sacking below him, could smell the stench of unwashed humans packed into the room like rats. The girl, whoever she was, didn't look quite there.
"I'm Lexus." She smiled. "I've never told that to anyone before," She paused. "Well, anyone that lived."
"Wait, what?" As he spoke, Lexus began to fade. That was definitely dream like, but nothing else about the past few moments had been. As Lexus faded, the noise of the room grew louder, and the unrecognised feeling that had enveloped Shade - a feeling of wellbeing, of contentment - slowly disappeared.
"Shade, you ok?" Shade shifted his gaze from the shadow of Lexus still sitting on the bed to the man squashed onto the bed beside him. He was sharing the bed with three others; a man who went only by the name of Chip - no doubt a reference to the chipped front tooth that showed whenever he spoke or grinned - and his wife. The man speaking to Shade was an old timer of Spitalfields, Jimmy McCoon, a second generation Irishman. Like some of the other occupants, he had a part time job on the docks, but any money coming from that was spent in the alehouses and taverns.
"Huh? Yeah, fine. Why?"
"Who were you just talking to?"
Shade looked back to his bed, to see that Lexus had completely disappeared. Confused, he shook his head sharply.
"No one. No one. I think I just fell asleep for a second - was dreaming."
"Must be nice, dreaming." Jimmy grinned at Shade, showing off blackened stubs of teeth.
A drawn out scream from the other end of the room caught both Shade and Jimmy's attentions. The fight had ended with one of its contestants getting a metal fork stabbed through his arm, and the scream had come from the wounded man's woman, who was clutching at his arm, trying to pull the fork out. For a second, Shade wondered why in hell he had turned down the girl's offer. Surely nowhere could be worse than here. Nowhere. Shade lay back down, thankful that he had gotten together enough money to get a bed to himself tonight, and closed his ears to the sobbing and arguing that continued, a constant soundtrack to life in Spitalfields.
