This is a fragment of a progressive story I wrote with a friend. It most likely will never evolve beyond this point, but it was an interesting experiment.
The smell of smoke drifted through the
winter sky and danced on the breeze. Icicles clung tenaciously to
the edges of the rooftops. An all-encompassing silence crept through
the streets like a cat on the prowl. The trees that lined the
streets were barren and waved their limbs in a skeletal repose that
reminded all that gazed upon them why winter was considered the
season of death. The town seemed vacant save for the one lone rundown
and dilapidated house at the end of the street that spewed smoke from
the half broken chimney.
The sound of a horse heavily laden
broke the silence as its hooves crunched through the ice-encrusted snow.
The rider was heavily cloaked to keep out the cold of the wind and
snow as they rode. Once reaching the end of the street and the
house, the figure swung out of the saddle uneasily as if they were
unused to long hours of riding and knocked hesitantly at the door
before them.
Slowly, the door opened and a slight
rush of warm air swept past the rider. “What can I help you with?”
asked an old woman who kept the door mostly closed, peering through
the space between the door and the wall.
“My apologies,” said a low voice
from underneath the heavy cloak. “I have ridden from afar and fear
I still have a long way to go on my journey. I only seek shelter and
a little food for the night.”
“Can ye pay?” asked the old woman.
“Not with gold or silver but I do
have a pair of leather boots that I can give in payment.”
“Let me see the boots,” the woman
said, still keeping the door mostly shut.
The rider went back to the horse and
removed a pair of boots from one of the satchels. Walking back, the
boots were handed to the old woman. She examined them and slowly
opened the door.
“Come in, come in,” she said as she
ushered in the rider. “These are fine boots indeed. Too large for
me but my boy can wear them.”
The rider looked to the other side of
the door to see a young boy standing there who was hidden from the
rider’s sight while outside. The boy slowly moved his hands away
from a large club that was propped against the wall.
The rider pulled off the cloak to
reveal dark hair, tan skin, and…
“You’re a… girl,” the boy shyly
said.
A glint of amusement lit up the woman’s
eyes as she took the boy in.
“You don’t say? Clever boy you
have there if I do say myself,” she said to the woman with a
chuckle.
With a slight flourish she bowed to the
boy.
“My name is Elena Darkwind young sir.
Who might you be?”
The boy swallowed hard and stammered
his reply.
“I… I’m Pietre Ma’am. I dun
mean no disrespect.”
“A pleasure, young master Pietre. I
hope those boots will serve you well but if you don’t mind, I’d
like most to get warm by your fire right now.”
With that she moved over to a chair
near the fire and began to strip off the layers of clothes she had
piled on to keep out the bitter cold as she had ridden. Once she had
pulled off her gloves she held her hands up to the fire to let the
heat begin to do its work. She hated being cold but this was a
necessary journey she was on otherwise she would have never mounted the foul beast that stood outside the door waiting for her when
she was ready to start her journey anew. Thinking of the horse made her
remember it had been awhile since she had fed or watered the beast.
It wouldn’t do to have it falling over on her on the next leg of
her trek.
“Pietre,” she said sweetly trying
not to startle the shy boy. “I have a horse outside that is in
need of your tender care. Perhaps I can find something else you
might like to pay you for such kindness to her? She’s a gentle
soul and I fear I haven’t been near as attentive as I should have
been on the journey here. I’d hate for her to go much longer
without some much needed food and drink.”
“Yes, ma’am. I shall do it right
away,” Pietre said as he quickly opened the door and disappeared.
********************************************
Pietre slowly approached the horse, making
sure the creature could see him coming. While he was uncomfortable
with people he did not know, he had no such issues with animals. He
walked up to the horse, slowly lifting his hand to her muzzle. He
stood there for a moment, allowing the horse to sniff him. He
then gently scratched the horse just above her nose.
“Good girl,” Pietre said as he
unraveled the reins and led the horse to the back where a small barn
was erected. Once inside, he removed the saddle and everything
strapped to it then placed it against the far wall. He grabbed some
hay that he used as his bed from time to time and gave it to the
horse to eat.
“Sorry it’s not much,” he said as
he patted down the horse, using his fingers as a comb. “I’ll
check the other buildings to see if they have any grain soon.”
Once complete, Pietre walked back
outside and headed into the house. Just as he placed his hand
on the door, he saw something move in the corner of his eye. He
quickly looked in that direction but saw nothing out of the ordinary.
He opened the door and walked inside.
As he started to close the door, a foul wind picked up out of
nowhere, pushing the door open. Pietre pushed his body against it,
closing the door. He then placed the board across it, locking it
closed.
*********************************************
Elena was just finishing a runny bowl
of stew and some partly stale bread as Pietre walked back in the
door. It wasn’t the best meal she had in awhile but it certainly
was a welcome one. She couldn’t really remember the last time she
had eaten. She didn’t like stopping for long as it was and this
was no different than any other time. She knew she couldn’t keep
up at this pace for much longer but at the same time she could feel
the constant drive to get to her destination with all haste.
An unbidden feeling of unease came over Elena as
she sat staring at the fire. She couldn’t quite put her finger on
what it was but something began to gnaw at her. Something she had
forgotten perhaps or something she was yet to remember. A slight
noise caught her ear and sounded like it was coming down the very
chimney itself. It was a weak scrabbling sound like that of a bird
flipping about between the bricks and scratching them with its nails.
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