fabricated worlds (marlene mckinnon)

knock thrice

She stepped out of the Spar and sighed deeply. There were directions to the cemetery on the streets so she didn't have to spend ten minutes rehearsing how she was going to ask a complete stranger where she was meant to go.

Unfortunately, the directions only led you to a certain point.

She huffed lightly to herself and sat on a nearby bench, scooting away from a wet white spot besides her. She put her chin in her hand and waited for someone to pass by.

Two teenagers passed by, both brunettes and both looking very familiar.

"Oh, look. It's Olive!" Dorcas Meadowes skipped up to her and grinned. "Now, what are you doing here? Do you live around here? Or are you visiting on a holiday? Are you alright— how have you been?"

Always a mile a minute, Dorcas Meadowes. She was super caring, people like that always used your weaknesses against you.

The other person, Remus Lupin, kind of floated around Dorcas, smiling painfully as they all made awkward small talk.

Olive nodded as if she was listening. "Do you know where the nearby cemetery is?"

Remus sharply looked up. "Why do you need to go there?"

"I—" She stammered.

He smiled. "Just go straight then take a left at the fourth zebra crossing."

Olive knew that Remus Lupin always payed attention to the little things. He could find out your entire backstory with just a few carefully placed questions and an adorable smile.

She nodded, gave them both a slight wave then set off to find the fourth zebra crossing.

—

"She's strange." Remus quietly remarked and Dorcas shook her head, pulling her coat tighter around her.

"She has her own reasons to be here, Remus," Dorcas said cheerfully. "Maybe a friend or a relative passed away and she wanted to see them."

"She would have brought flowers," He responded, sticking one of his hands in his pocket and using the other to brush hair from his green eyes. "Or something like that."

"There's a florist around here," Dorcas chirped. "Anyways, we need to pick up the chocolates, she likes them with coffee."

"Marlene is going to have the best birthday." Remus said, mentally saving that little slice of information for something to think about later.

Olive didn't live around here and no sensible parent would let their child outside alone in these times.

He looked up and sighed. A war was brewing.

—

"Who am I even here to see?" Olive asked herself quietly, face to face with the cemetery gates, pulling her coat tighter around her body while shivering. "Darkle? Darkly? Dars.... Darsk."

She pushed open the gates and made her way down the path. It would take a while for her to find the correct gravestone so she mentally prepared herself before picking a row to check.

After half an hour of nearly aimless searching, (the cemetery was quite big), she found arsk written on a stone. She reckoned that the d rubbed off.

She knelt down on the ground, in front of the crumbling stone, smoothed out her skirt and knocked thrice.

After a few seconds of waiting, she lifted her hand to knock again and then she fell.

The ground beneath her knees gave way and closed up behind her. She was whipping through the dirt, eyes wide open and skirt flipping up.

She screamed because she was going to die and choked on the dirt that was soaring past her. She was tunnelling through at quite an alarming rate and she knew she was going to have to take a shower if she ever got out of the mess her life was.

She landed on the ground with a thump, on her knees.

She struggled to get up and tried to control her breathing as she surveyed the place she landed in.

It was a dirty cave of a sort, and bones littered the ground. She heard footsteps and slowly turned around, her hand gripped around her wand in her coat pocket.

A creature that she now identified as a goblin stared at her with dark eyes.

She cleared her throat. "Hello. Are you Darsk?"

The goblin nodded slowly. "What is your name, girl?"

"Olive Baldwin," She answered, shuffling her feet in the dirt. "Y-you have a nice place here."

"Lies," Darsk responded. "I died here and you probably will too."

"W—what?"

"Unless you seek my help in staying alive." Darsk finished, tone even.

She took a deep breathe. "I want your help. Sir." She added the last bit as an afterthought, after all, politeness got you everywhere.

"Politeness gets you nowhere," Darsk said. "Do you want my help?"

"Yes."

He beckoned her and pressed a long finger into her forehead and whispered something.

Cold spread throughout her body and she shuddered, her eyes fluttering close.

"There," Darsk said. "Complete immunity for the rest of your life. Your family can't touch you."

"How do you—?" She shook her head. "What do you want in return?" She was almost dreading the answer.

"Gold," He answered easily. "And lots of it."

"How much?" Her heart was in her throat and she swallowed nervously.

Darsk pondered her question for a moment. "Five hundred pieces will do."

"Wait, what?" She practically screeched. "I don't have that much gold. Nobody has that much gold!"

Darsk's face moved into something that resembled a grin. "You have a hundred days to get the gold."

"And if I fail?"

Darsk grinned wickedly. "I told you that you'll die here." He bit his lip. "Well, not here."