Cruel Deception (On Hold)

Chapter 1

I crept out on to the side a cobble street, watching for any signs of life. My blue, satin cloak was cold from being in the shadows for too long. The ally was dead silent, so naturally I relaxed. Sighing I walked over to a wooden crate near the back entrance to a small shop. I let my hood fall around my shoulders and rested my head against the gray stone of the building. I stared at my hands. Today was the anniversary of my mother’s death. Anger filled my reins, she had just gone for a walk. A simple walk and she had been attacked by a hunting dog. I could almost see her face, the terror would have been so pronounced. She had always trouble keeping her emotions off her face. It had always been her best and worse feature. She had been beautiful; probably the only reason my father had married her. She had honey brown hair always kept up in a lazy ponytail, delicate tan skin, and big almond brown eyes. I still had a large portrait of her in my room. God, I missed her. My father always tried to scare me saying her death happened because she “didn’t had her guard personnel with her”. It never worked. I knew with each bone in my body that my father had never loved her, if he had he would have had some emotion when we were told, some hint that he was surprised or even upset.

I shook my head there was no time for thing about this I’m sure the guard would be looking everywhere for me, since it was there full time occupation. Standing took more effort than I thought It would, my back was sore from running. I stretched for a second. Remembering, I threw on my hood so I would blend in more. I adjusted my tan knee-high boots and light wash jeans and walked down the street. I peered out of the street to fine many peasants bustling around because after all it was midday.  I loved the peasants; they were more than just slaves. They were like a different kind of family, a more loving, warm family that was ready to adopt you and help you at a moment’s notice. As I made my way to the main square, the noise grew, so did the smells. The clanging of pots at cafes and the hover cars passing above. Even the people watching street performers were annoying, talking louder and louder to be heard.  Street merchants behind plain wooden stands shouted at passing people saying things like “Buy 2 loafs of bread feet one free”, or “Give your lady some nice hand-made jewelry”. I was looking for one stand in particular stand. I didn’t see in it, but it saw me. Suddenly a cute little boy was hugging my leg.

“Dahlia!” He shouted, his big smile was contagious, I smiled.

“Hey Davie.” I replied, putting my finger to my lips, telling him to be quieter. “Where’s Big Mama?” I asked, pulling Davie away from the hustle and bustle of the street so people wouldn’t trample him.

He giggled, and gabbed my hand pulling me through the crowded streets avoiding garbage and oil from the hover cars.  We ended up near the edge of the square in front of a broken down shop, a small fragile looking woman with charcoal colored skin was busy selling her main attraction. Her apples. We ran over and she saw us coming. She told her customer to hold for one second. So when I rounded the corner to her stall she was waiting with a big hug.

“Hey Big Mama.” I greeted her. Now she was definitely not big, anyone who looked at her could tell you that. She was very small not even five foot one inch, but the name suited her. She has a big heart and that’s what made her so special.

“Hey Dahlia, we’ve missed you!” She said, her dimples showing clearly. “Business is booming, no thanks to you.” She nudged me. The customer was starting to look impatient.

“Speaking of which I think we should talk later, your customer looks a little rushed for time.” I replied sending her off. Davie somehow had gotten my hand in his and was looking around. He suddenly froze and I looked where his eyes had landed. Two poor people with rags as clothes around their bodies were trying to sell scraps of trash in the streets. My heart leaped with pity, but I had no money with me. What could I do to help? I looked back down at Davie to find he wasn’t there. I looked back at the poor peasants.  Davie with his big eyes and skin like his mother was carrying a large basket full of apples. He arrived at the peasants and their eyes grew bigger. He put the basket down in front of the smallest, a young woman, about eighteen. She looked at him with surprise. He smiled and came running back, and put his hand in mine.