of silent graves

chapter 2: choice

The lady leered at me as if I was some sort of criminal.

I had only realized her existence when I sensed eyes crawling over me, that imperceptible tingling in my gut. She was standing about three feet away looking down at me with an incredulous face with wide eyes. She was dressed formally in a maid’s clothing, holding a silver tray of breakfast goods. A second passed then two without her reacting.

“F–-forgive me to trespassing, m’am, but––”

I did not complete my apology before she opened her lips and––

I clapped my hands over my temples side. What a high-pitched voice for such a tiny woman! Her voice was nails on a chalkboard, shrill and screeching, comparable to that of the monsters I took on. I made a pointless attempt to quiet her down, which only raised her noise decibel louder. She withdrew her presence from me, a look of absolute horror written upon her average face. She shot a charge of vile phrases unfit for a woman of her status and rushed back to her home, calling for assistance.

Sam woke up and screamed. “Josephine, please!” She rushed to quiet her servant down, but the woman was already running down the hall, raising chaos.

Realizing that the others would come, Sam tied sheets together to make a rope. “I’m sorry,” she apologized to me, “but you’ll have to come out the window.” She cracked open the frame and threw the knotted sheets down. “The snow will soften your fall.”

I held onto her for balance as I precariously stepped out. Before I jumped though, I griped her hand. “I’ll wait for you,” I said, bearing me eyes into hers. “When things get better.”

Sam blinked and laughed. “I’ll wait for you, too, Christopher,” she promised. Behind her, angry voices almost drowned out her command. “Now, go!”

I leapt.

True to her word, I landed without a bruise.

I quickly stood on my legs and, oblivious to the freezing climate, made a run for it. It was a fairly small yard for a humble abode, with nothing but the everyday outdoor furniture, so I was able to reach the borderline of the partition in due time. It was trying just to loop one leg over, but after a few comical bunny hops, I got one limb hooked and the rest followed in succession.

My feet pounded the semi-solid ground with a thud, slush of snow plodding into my face. I wiped the condensed form from my eyes and made way to whatever place I could find. Behind me, the woman’s screaming was heard from afar, mixed into a man’s enraged rumble.

The property I had momentarily left was a few blocks from the city. That was good fortune on my part. I could blend into the mass population and not have to worry about anyone coming after me.

Even in the whiteness of winter, the building in the city still pumped out black plumes of smoke from the industrial factories, darkening the sky with ugly pollution and smothering the people with a noxious sulfuric odor that crinkled the nose. I covered my mouth with my shirt and barged my way through the daily market, slipping into a throng of people haggling over food prices. The demophobia was acute, but I supressed it as the idiosyncratic calling of police authorities issued over the dissonance.

My pace picked up as one uniformed policeman asked about a boy of twelve in tattered clothing. Obviously, the woman had misinterpreted my being in her home courtyard and informed the police station about a rogue street urchin. I hazarded a moment to survey my attire. Did I look that bad?

Though the teeming people hid my person, they also impede my way. Shoving was not a preferred choice; the people would shove you back––harshly. So I went along as fast as I could, hoping would become a small and obscure object in midst of hundreds.