Monday, February 18, 2019

the beginning of a story if i was going to write one

she was almost done tying the boat together. she wrapped the sea grass delicately around the mature bamboo sticks, a sacrifice the forest had to make for her escape. the launch was premeditated, postponed by days watching the storms pass through the inlet. she twisted a knot at the corner of the last two bamboo and looked back at a drenched pile of her clothes laying in the sand. beyond, the sea glimmered in the hot midday sun, finally still after the storms save for the subtle crashing and lapping of translucent blue waves against the rocks by the shore. she walked to the pile and inspected a white linen blouse, holding it limply up to the sun as it dripped warm beads of water on to her ankles, providing temporary relief from the scalding sand engulfing her feet. the events of the night before had not been washed away with the early morning's downpour; a blood stain in the shape of a hand was still soaked on her sleeve, reminding her of the hooded man that grabbed her arm at the edge of the city walls and her breathless dash back to the beach, to safety. mae threw the white blouse over her shoulder, and laid the rest of her mud-encrusted garments out flat on the sand. as they dried in the sun, mae slashed and sectioned off pieces of a sail, weaving them together with a thinner beach grass she had collected near the fortified city gates. the coastal council had been helpful on some of her negotiations, offering their protection and more access to their resources than a foreign girl, arrived alone by boat, should be offered. mae was blessed with convincing words and a genuine, though sometimes debaucherous, smile; she was hard to say no to.


what they failed to say yes to, though, was the amulet she rolled over in her fingers in her pocket as she looked out over the wind lines in the distance. wisps of sandy brown hair crossed the bridge of her nose, veiling her lazuli eyes from the bright rays of sun. she released the small, heavy object deep into her pocket, letting the weight pull at her pant leg. she grabbed the two ties of her leather belt and tightened them. she patted the amulet, buttoned her pant pocket and shifted her attention to the cliffs.

a man squatted in the tall grass on the edge of the highest crag, a sparrow in the distance staring down at her. mae squinted, one hand held to the sun and the other balanced on her hip, akimbo. she returned his stare. the young sentry was going to let her go, only on the condition she would return. it was his trunk out of which the amulet came, out of which mae had provided the lost key. mae of course had stripped the key from lucas' neck to begin with - but he trusted her too generously, admired her so in the candlelight, and never saw her for a theft when he awoke. lucas, thin with long, brown hair, was a typical archivist, too gentle to defend the city. it was a trait which drew his blind fate and his ignorance on this occasion had almost left the two on miraculously agreeable terms. it was only when lucas' guard, one of his family's men whom mae had previously employed, ironically, the last time she was in Claire, followed mae through the ghettos of the city did she realize he didn't expect her to leave. with a short bow over her shoulder, moving quicker than the guard around the corners she knew so well, she eventually scurried out through her own tunnel and plunged into the black moat below. i could leave forever, burn the bridge, she thought as she swam, but she knew he would speak eventually. he said he would. if the amulet was one piece of the puzzle on this confidential mission, she could return it when it provides her the information she needs it to. if it does, mae thought. 

mae's father, benito de savoy, hadn't always kept his promises to mae and her sister when they were children.

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