Charcoal Drawings: Chapter 2 by Fathiah Zarafi
Crickets sung in the night,
filling in the heavy silence. Beneath the curtain of black covering the skies,
Alys laid wide awake. Her eyes flickered upwards to study the diamonds glittering
in the sky through a small window. Nights like this, when it seems like she was
the only person alive, caused her frame to quiver with fear. Fear of the
unknown. Alys knew that the villagers had nothing but hatred for her. They
would like nothing more than to have her burnt at the stake. The endless
taunting and abuse to her body made it seemed as if she was already approaching
her death.
Alys closed her eyes and
leaned her head against the cold wall. She wanted desperately to fall into a
dreamless sleep but the stinging pain in her stomach kept her awake. Her eyes
fluttered open to stare at the heavily-shackled door. She has never felt more
alone and her vision of Berta's death only worsened the situation. Blinking
back tears, Alys slid down on the hard pallet and pulled her legs up to her
chest to curb away the chilly air.
Only when the golden rays
had peaked shyly at the dark sky did the guards slid the bolts away from her
door. With a heavy sigh, Alys pushed herself up onto her bare feet and silently
padded to the door. And so her morning routine began, starting at the washroom. Her
fingers slowly began peeling back the dirty cloth from her body when her eyes
locked with Berta. The older woman, already washed, scurried over to Alys.
Berta's eyes were filled
with worry, Alys noted. "Alys dear, have you broken fast yet?" she
asked with concern.
At the question, Alys was
painfully aware of how her stomach was protesting in hunger. She was starved
off food since last morning by the guards. "No, I have not but it is
fine—"
Berta quickly cut her off.
"Nonsense! I did not catch even a glimpse of you during lunch and supper
last sunrise. You must be famished."
The woman dug her hands into
a worn pouch tied to her waist and brought forth two rolls of bread. "I
could only smuggle these during breaking of fast. It is not much but it would
last you until midday."
Hastily murmuring a thank
you, Alys accepted the bread gratefully. She practically inhaled the food,
trying to fulfill her hunger. Berta was right; the small rolls of bread weren't
enough. Her stomach still felt empty but the stabbing pain was now gone.
"Go and wash up now, or
you will be late," Berta ushered her to an empty stool. Once again
offering the woman a grateful smile, Alys resumed her morning rituals.
She was in the midst of
securing her long locks with a braid when a guard knocked heavily on the
washroom's door, startling some of the remaing slaves inside.
"Hurry up, slaves! The
new master is approaching!" the guard barked. The women scrambled to
finish their cleansing. Alys pushed her bangs aside and exited the washroom.
She was eager to meet the new bastard who would once again mistreat them all.
Alys rubbed her arms
slightly when she shivered due to the cold air in the foyer. She stood near the
back wall as slaves slowly filtered in. But unlike last night, not even a
whisper was heard uttered from the slaves' mouths. The pin drop silence further
increased the tense atmosphere in the room.
The sun rose higher up in
the sky. Not even a glimpse of the new master was seen. The agitation felt by
the slaves was evident by the way they shuffled their feet back and forth and
releasing a quiet sigh every now and then. Even the guards grew weary of
waiting. They started chatting idly with each other, relaxing their previously vigilant
stance.
Feet aching, Alys leaned
against the wall to ease some of the pressure off of her soles. Her head bowed
when her mind began wandering back to the times when she was happy. She could still recall vividly when she had
her first vision. It was a fire that will destroy a family's house and rob them
off their only child. Until now, Alys still felt guilty for her inability to
save the little baby even though her mother had repeatedly told her that she
was still young and confused with her gift.
The silence in the hall was
shattered by the sound of heavy footsteps and guards shuffling back to their
positions. The new master has arrived. With a heavy sigh, Alys raised her head
and waited for his arrival. Two guards pulled open the heavy oak doors.
"Lord Bartholomew has
arrived!" they bellowed.
Alys rose on the tip of her
toes to peer above the crowd. Her body froze at the sight that greeted her
eyes. Lord Bartholomew stood proudly in front of the slaves, his chest puffed
out as a sign of arrogance. Thick, brown moustache covered the top of his lip
and curled at the tip. But the one long scar going down his left eye was what
shocked Alys the most.
"Berta's killer,"
she breathed. Her trembling fingers unconsciously tightened into fists.
Lord Bartholomew stepped up
onto the makeshift podium. With one hand resting on his walking stick and the
other on top of it, his posture sent out a proud yet an audacity aura.
He took a quick glance at
the slaves before speaking up. "As you have been informed, I am Lord
Bartholomew and I will be your new master as of today."
Alys' knuckles turned white
as she clenched her fists tightly. She stood frozen as she witnessed the man
from her vision spoke to the crowd. His voice was teemed with confidence.
"Fret not, my fellow
slaves. I have been informed about the rough handling of the previous owner and
his common mistreatment." Lord Bartholomew smirked, "Rest assured
that I am nothing like him. Torturing of slaves will not be tolerated in this
building—"
The rest of his words were
droned out by Alys. When the words 'torturing of slaves' were uttered, images
of her vision flashed before her eyes. Bruised skin and splatters of blood
seemed to dance its way across her view. For a moment, all she could see was
white hot rage. The man was trying to fool all of them!
Alys' lips seemed to move on
their own accord, mouthing out a word before she could think clearly.
"Lies," she choked out. Her voice was feeble but in the pin drop
silence of the hall, it was as if she had screamed the word.
Lord Bartholomew's welcoming
speech came to a screeching halt. He cleared his throat, eyes searching the
back of the hall for the source of the voice. "I beg your pardon?"
Releasing a shaky breath,
Alys stepped into his line of view. Upon sighting her, his face immediately
hardened. She saw his lips move discreetly to mouth the word demon. Her hatred
for the man grew tenfold.
"I said," she
raised her voice, "that you were spewing out nothing but lies."
A few women released shocked
gasps at her outburst, and the silence in the room was broken by murmurs and
chants of the occupants in the hall. Lord Bartholomew's face slowly turned red
from anger.
He tried to speak normally
through gritted teeth. "And what, pray tell, made you come to that
conclusion, girl?"
"I just know,"
Alys replied simply. The man before her suddenly burst into laughter. People
stared at him in a mixture of disbelief and fear. Disbelief over his unexpected
reaction, and fear over his mental state.
He descended the stairs with
grace, his shoulders still shaking from laughter. "Allow me to guess. You
'foresaw' me," he chuckled, "doing unholy things. Did you not, little
demon?"
Alys' fists shook as anger
welled up inside of her. "You have no right to call me that," she
hissed.
The man stopped his strides
within a few feet of her. A crooked smirk adorned his lips as he eyed her form.
"Oh but you are one. Predicting the future and what not," he narrowed
his eyes. "Not to mention, killing your own dear sister."
Her eyes widened in shock
momentarily before she ducked her head, shielding them from view. The stunned
onlookers could see tremors running through her body. Bartholomew merely raised
an eyebrow in amusement.
"I did not kill
her," Alys muttered. She raised her head, revealing blue orbs burning with
ire. "Do not flap your gums as if you know everything when in fact, you
and this whole damn village know nothing of me!"
Bartholomew sneered at the
girl with disgust. "Very well. Let me play along then and make your
'vision' come true."
Before she knew it, armored
guards were flocking around her and restraining her arms behind her back
painfully. Alys struggled against their grip but her petite form was
overpowered by the heavily-built men. Bartholomew bent down so he was eye level
with her and leered.
"Take her to the
dungeons for punishment. I do not tolerate insolence," he ordered the
guards darkly.
With a rough shove that sent
her stumbling, Alys was forced by the guards to walk through the gaping crowd.
None of them dared to say anything, opting instead to cower away from her as if
she was diseased. I wish I was diseased
instead, she thought bitterly, because
then I can find a cure for this.
"Stop! Please stop this
instant!"
Their steps faltered and
stopped at the familiar voice. Alys managed to twist in the hold of the guard
to face the equally stunned crowd. Her eyes widened at the sight of Berta
running towards them. With her skirt hitched, she desperately pushed through
the slaves to reach them. Bartholomew, who was trailing behind them, studied
the scene with keen interest.
Upon reaching the lord,
Berta dropped to her knees. "Please my lord, do not punish her, for she is
still a naïve young girl," she begged. "She made a mistake just like
any younglings do. Please forgive her."
Bartholomew pretended to consider
her, rubbing his thick moustache with a finger. "I am not certain I can
grant your request, slave. If I release this chit, then I will not have anyone
to release my anger upon and this demon has made me very, very angry."
"Then take me as her
replacement," Berta replied without a second of hesitation.
"No," Alys shook
her head, her face contorted in shock. "No, Berta, stop this! You cannot
possibly—" she was forcibly pulled back when she tried to step forward.
The man smiled leeringly. He
glanced at Alys through the corner of his eyes briefly before meeting the eyes
of the guard restraining her. "Release the demon. Take this woman
instead," he barked.
Alys grunted in pain as she
fell unceremoniously to the ground by the force of the guard thrusting her
forward. Quickly pushing black hair away from her face, she stared in fright as
Berta was escorted out of the hall. Springing to her feet, Alys tried to chase
after them, only to run smack into another guard.
"Berta, no!" she
screamed. "Come back, do not do this! Stop!"
In a bid to reach her, Alys
reared back and threw a punch on the guard's uncovered face. He groaned at the
pain of the impact, and staggered a few steps back. She slipped past the man
and ran towards the door.
"Berta! Do not do it!"
Alys yelled. Berta turned her head towards her and offered her a sad smile
before completely disappearing behind the door.
Alys wretched the door open,
ignoring the angry hollers of Bartholomew behind her. She began chasing after
the retreating form of the older woman, in hopes of stopping this madness. As
Berta rounded a corner, hands grabbed at Alys and pulled her back.
"Unhand, you bastards!"
Alys kicked and punched, and even bit at the guards trying to hold her back. Bartholomew
approached them, glaring at the struggles she was putting up.
"Lock her in the
underground room! I have had enough of this demon," he spat harshly. Alys
stopped the scuffling to glare back at him.
"You are nothing more
than a lowly son of a—"
Those were all she managed
to yelled out before a guard brought down his fist to her temple, resulting in
her lost of consciousness.
________________________________________________________________
It was dark when Alys regained her bearings. Not the usual dark that came when the sun sets beneath the
horizon, no, this darkness was even thicker. There was not even a small ray of
light in the room to aid her vision. She pushed herself up and winced as her head began to
throb.
That was a really hard hit, Alys noted as her fingers lightly skimmed her left
right temple. She gripped at the cold wall behind her to hoist herself up,
nearly yelping when she touched what felt like moss. Her knees trembled beneath
her for a while. Inhaling deeply to compose herself, she threw her hands in
front of her and started walking forward.
Blinded by the darkness, Alys
could only grope the air to prevent herself from running into a wall. When her
hands touched another wall, she flattened her palm against it and started
search for a sign of an exit. Alys began walking again in that manner when she
felt metal beneath her fingertips.
A door handle! she was quite taken aback when the door opened with a weak tug. No locks, no
restraints, no guards. Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, Alys
stepped out of the room. She waited until her eyes adjusted to the lights of the torches before running towards the dungeons.
Alys ran down the hollow
corridor, up steep stairs until she reached a dimly lit corridor. Which way now? Alys thought as she
panted. Her question was answered when a scream echoed in the corridor. It was
Berta's, she knew. Alys sprinted in the direction of the scream, all the while
praying that it was still not too late. Berta's voice got louder with each step
and Alys could feel the panic rising in her chest.
Upon reaching the door that
holds Berta behind it, the younger girl began pounding on the wood.
"Berta! Berta, hold on!" Alys pleaded. "I will get you out of
there!"
She started ramming into the
door with her shoulder, hoping that the force would be enough to knock it down.
However, just after two tries, a blood curling scream escaped from the room.
Alys halted all movements.
"Berta?" she
called in shock. "Berta, please respond. Please say something!"
Stray tears fell from her
eyes as she fell to her knees. No, she
cannot be dead, no! "Berta!" her voice quivered. The door that
she was trying to knock down swung open. Bartholomew stepped out along with a
flack of guards and locked eyes with Alys on the ground.
"Why?" she
whispered questioningly, staring at him with tear-filled eyes. The man smirked.
"Because I can." With
a swish of his cloak, Bartholomew brushed passed the shaking girl. "Take
her back to the underground room," he ordered the guards standing by the
door. "And dispose of the body."
Alys buried her face into
her palms as she sobbed. Her lithe figure shook with the tremor of her sobs.
She didn't resist when she was pulled to her feet. "You heard the master,
back to the room!"
"Wait!" choked out
Alys. "At least—at least let me see her, for the last time."
The young guard's hardened
face faltered for a moment. "Her body—is not in a condition for
viewing," he explained quickly.
She shook her head. "I
don't care. I need to see her for the last time, please."
With a loud groan, the guard
led her into the room. Alys tried hard not to notice the torture equipments
hanging on the walls, some of it still dripping blood. She shakily made her way
to the body lying on a stone table, covered by an old rag. Alys had to fight
the urge to gag at the sight of blood staining the rag whole.
Her fingers quivered as she
pulled back the rag to reveal her face. Fresh tears ran down Alys' already wet
cheeks. She gingerly closed Berta's eyes with her fingertips before kneeling
down next to her.
"I'm sorry, I'm so
sorry," Alys cried out. "This was my fault. Please forgive me,
please."
She buried her face into the
woman's hair and let her tears mingle with the blood.
Labels: Charcoal Drawings
Charcoal Drawings (Chapter 1) by Fathiah Zarafi
"Time to rise, girl!" a gruff voice growled, kicking at a curled up body by his feet. A small whimper is heard before the body quickly rights itself and pressed back against the cold stone wall.
The guard, who was responsible for her chamber, smirked in response at her passive attitude. "Holding your tongue is much better now, is it not? About time you learn how to act in front of a man."
His spiteful remark was answered by a cold glare. With a snort, the guard pulled on the chain surrounding the girl's wrists. She stumbled to her feet from the force of it. Immediately, pain shot up her legs. Her feet were still healing after being forced to work barefoot on a road under the scorching sun.
The metal chains binding her wrists together were once again tugged forward. She trailed behind the guard, walking along the long corridor. Her chamber was placed at the very end of the old mansion, away from the other slaves. The girl was careful to avoid the gazes of other guards loitering about. Their cold eyes followed her every move, some even spitting out harsh names.
Whore
Scoundrel
Demon
She finally raised her sapphire eyes when she caught sight of the old door leading to the wash room. The guard released her chains before roughly pushing her towards the door. "Wash up quickly, wench. You will suffer dire consequences if you anger the master again." he warned. With a huff, the girl marched pass the man and proceeded to slam the door against his face, delighting in the colorful curses spurting out of his mouth.
"Alys, must you fight with the guards every morning?"
Alys swiftly turned around to spot an aged woman sitting on a wooden stool, casually rinsing her body. A rare smile grazed her pink lips.
"Berta," she almost whined. "That repulsing man deserved it."
The older woman could only shake her head and smile at the teenager's antics. That girl was simply too spirited for her own good. Berta knew this behavior would certainly cause chaos in the slavery so she took it as her responsibility to protect her. The woman quickly dried off her body and got up to her feet.
"There is still some hot water left. Be quick, Alys. The master has important news for us all today," Berta informed as Alys shook out of the ragged and dirty dress. She nodded and scrambled to the spot that was once occupied by Berta.
Alys scrubbed at the dirt around her body as much as it was possible. At the sound of the door closing, she grabbed the wooden pail and hoisted it above her head to rinse off the suds. She reveled in the sensation of water cascading down her body, trailing over each bruise and scar on her body. Pushing black hair away from her face, Alys was reaching for a cloth to dry herself when the back of her eyes began tingling. Just a second later, her eyes glazed over.
"Please have mercy, my lord!" a familiar female voice begged. Screams then pierced the silence, echoing against the stone walls. Leather whip tore at the skin of the bruised and mangled body, leaving trails of blood at its wake.
A man with one ruined eye laughed. "Mercy? But my dear lady, I thought you asked for this cruel punishment when you protected that demon."
"We have done nothing wrong to you," the woman spoke with quivering voice. "That girl is merely an innocent child that has suffered because of greedy bastards such as you."
"Innocent?" the man repeated incredulously. His huge laugh rumbled the room. "Oh you humor me so, dear Berta. Thus, it is such a disappointment to continue with my plans."
He shot the guards a wicked smile. "Kill her."
Alys inhaled sharply as she was brought back to the present. The bucket in her hands tumbled to the floor with a sharp crash.
"No, no it can't be," she whispered into the air. "The vision must be lying!"
She knew she was fooling no one. Whatever she foresees as the future,
will be the future. With trembling fingers, Alys dried off her body as quickly as her shaking fingers would allow. As she pulled back the dress over her body, she stared at the wall with a hard glare.
'I have to try to change it. No matter what, I shall not let Berta die!'
Loud poundings on the door startled Alys out of her thoughts. "You have been in there long enough, wench!" the insufferable guard yelled through the wood. "Get out of there!" Inhaling deeply, Alys wrenched the door open and shot the man a cold glare. She turned to her left sharply and marched down the corridor despite the angry shouts of the guard.
"Where do you think you are going, demon? You are to precede with your morning duties as per usual!"
Grubby hand clamped down on her bicep and forced Alys to a halt. She swiveled around to give him a shove. "I am returning to my room so release me—"
Alys suddenly found herself sprawled across the cold ground. Cradling her stinging cheek, she forced back the involuntary tears. She would rather die than show any weakness in front of him. The guard massaged his knuckles as he hovered above her, anger clearly evident across his features.
"You are a lowly slave; act like one," he sneered. Crouching down, he reached out to haul her to her feet. Alys calculated his actions. Before his hands could touch her, she kicked against his knees with all her might. The man crashed to the ground beside her, strings of curses leaving his mouth.
Seeing her chance, Alys leapt to her feet and broke into a run down the hall. She needed to reach her chamber soon, before the remnants of her vision fade. Her footsteps echoed loudly as bare skin slapped against stone. Alys could see the black door of her chamber when she was painfully yanked backwards by her hair.
Screaming, she tried to claw at the hands clutching her midnight strands. It only resulted with the grip tightening, almost tearing away her hair right off of her scalp. Alys turned her torso as much as she could and began scratching at the guard's unprotected face. Her screams mingled with his angry yells as he tried to back away from her sharp nails. Deciding that enough was enough, the guard threw Alys away with a roar. She stumbled and gripped the wall to keep balanced. Her lips turned upwards in a smirk at the sight of deep, red lines adorning his face. The guard's nostrils flared.
"You want to be in your chamber so much? Here!" he jerked the door open and shoved her inside. "You will not receive lunch or dinner as punishment of your atrocious behavior!"
Alys couldn't hold back her tongue. "It is not as if I could ever satisfy my hunger from the bread crumbles you feed me," she hissed. The guard raised his right hand and once again delivered a blow across her face.
"Fool!" he sneered before slamming the door shut.
She didn't waste a second. Hurrying to an old chest at the foot of her bed, she pulled out a piece of old parchment and a piece of charcoal. Grasping the black charcoal in her right hand, Alys closed her eyes and summoned forth the image from her previous vision. Her hand moved as if possessed a life of its own. The charcoal was rubbed across the parchment, leaving behind dusty powder. She continued the process until the drawing was complete.
Alys opened her eyes and stared at the drawing clutched tightly in her grasp. The face of a man was etched with black powder. He had a thick moustache covering his top lip, one long scar going down his left eye and frown wrinkles on his forehead.
"Who are you and why would you kill such a kind woman?" she breathed to the air. Her stained fingers nearly crushed the paper as they tightened into fists.
Noises from outside the room brought Alys out of her stupor. Quickly, she hid the drawing underneath piles of plain cloth inside her chest, along with dozens of other drawings. As she snapped the lid of the chest shut, the door to her chamber slammed open. The same guard rushed in with a frown.
"Get up! The master wants all slaves to gather at the main foyer," he barked out, grabbing her arm roughly.
"I understand! There is no need to touch me!" Alys growled and twisted her arm free of his bruising grip. The guard glared at her furiously but decided to tame his anger and led her down the hall.
When they reached the main foyer, the guard opened the door and pushed her in. Alys stumbled inside. Nearly cursing from his rough nature, she walked to the back of the room and stood alone in the corner. All of the slaves had gathered. The room was buzzing from their whispers and gossips. Alys' eyes scanned the crowd to search for Berta. She sagged in relief when she caught sight of the older woman chatting peacefully to another woman next to her.
The main door burst open. The room grew silent in an instant as the master strode in. The short, chubby man climbed onto a few strategically-placed steps that would make him taller than the crowd and cleared his throat loudly.
"Slaves, I came forward on this dreary morning to inform of you news," his squeaky voice echoed in the foyer. "When the sun rises, you will acquire a new master. I have sold this slavery to a rich Duke."
Immediately the foyer grew lively again by shocked gasps and murmurs among the slaves. Alys however wasn't bothered by it. She could not really care less of another man who will mistreat them.
"I know without a doubt that you all will miss my presence," the man continued. "but fret not, slaves! I shall leave you in good hands. The man is from a noble family and he will greet you as your new master after sun rise. Now skedaddle back to your morning duties!"
The slaves continued to talk among themselves even as they were ushered back to their positions. Alys slowly followed the crowd out of the foyer when the squeaky voice spoke again.
"You, demon girl! Stay!"
With a suppressed groan, Alys stopped in her tracks and faced her old master. The man stepped down from the makeshift podium to walk towards her. He was barely her height when they were up close. The man clicked his tongue.
"I expect nothing but obedience from you towards your new master. I have been very tolerable of your outrageous behavior. Lord Kingston, however, is a very stern man and will not take for anything that does not please him."
Kingston. So that's his name. Alys glared down at him. "Fear not, Master. This demon shall never scare such a powerful lord," she said sarcastically through gritted teeth. The man's cheeks turned red, either from anger or humiliation, Alys did not know. With a huff, he strutted out of the door, muttering about ungrateful chits and demonic behavior.
Alys rolled her eyes and proceeded to walk back to her chamber. It was located at the very end of the old mansion, away from the rest of the slaves. So that her demon disease does not affect the others, the short man had once said. She had reached the familiar halls when she saw Berta anxiously pacing the front of her chamber.
"Berta?" Alys called out. "What ever are you doing here?"
The old woman gripped Alys' shoulders gently and peered into her blue orbs. "You are not injured, are you?" she questioned worryingly. "I was afraid that the master might do something to you when he ordered you to stay."
The younger girl smiled at her concern. She patted the woman's hand as a reassurance. "Nothing happened, Berta. I am fine and dandy as you can see."
Berta smiled back, her eyes wrinkling from old age. "Get some rest, deary. Those beautiful eyes of yours are swallowed up by dark circles underneath them."
Alys nodded and bid her farewell before retreating into her own chamber. With a heavy sigh, she studied the dark room. It was almost bare except for an old bed in the middle and a small chest resting at the feet of the bed. She sat down on the hard mattress and rubbed her face in frustration. The image of Berta's gentle smile danced across her vision. That woman will die soon, according to her vision.
Alys shook her head roughly to clear away the thought. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the edge of the mattress. She will do anything in her power to prevent the woman from dying. With the new resolve burned into her mind, Alys stretched across the bed and fell into a fitful sleep.
Labels: Charcoal Drawings
SPM is over so you know what that means? Fathiah is back, beeches! Yes, I already have a story plot drafted which is the reason why I'm here: to post the prologue of my new story ;) So here you go. Enjoy!
Charcoal Drawings: Prologue by Fathiah Zarafi
Bare feet splashed against murky puddles on the hard ground. Small hands desperately clutched a wall for support as her lithe body was sent off-balance by rough, pushing arms. The little girl raised her head cautiously to stare at the looming figure above her. The sliver of moonlight peeking through dark clouds shone on her pale face, causing the tear tracks to appear on her cheeks.
"Papa," came a feeble whisper through trembling lips. Just as the word left her mouth, stars suddenly exploded across her vision and her body tipped sideways onto the cold ground. As she cradled her stinging cheek, the girl let stray tears fall.
A dark shadow fell upon her shaking body. "Do not call me by that name, ever again," a hoarse voice spat. "You are no child of mine."
A broken sob escaped from her. She clung on to the man's pants, only to have her hands painfully pried away.
"I did not kill her, Papa!" she cried. "I promise by the name of God!"
Her words were abruptly cut off when she was roughly hauled to her feet by her arms. The man shook her body hard enough to cause her teeth to gnash together.
"Do not utter God's name through those demonic lips! You have been the cause of this family's misery. I am glad to finally rid of you from my hands now that your grandmother is dead."
At the mention of her grandmother, the girl cried even harder. The image of her warm wrinkled smile flashed before her eyes. "Papa please, it was not my doing. I love Alina."
"Shut up!" the man roared. "How dare you mention her name! Your sister is dead because of you!"
The man's screaming was droned out by the loud pitter patter of hooves against stone. Just as quickly as he exploded, he righted his demeanor and a smirked grazed his face.
A large wooden carriage pulled by neighing horses pulled up before the duo. An old man jumped down from his spot in the navigating seat and closed the distance between them. The two men nodded in acknowledgement.
"Is this the child, Mr. Younger?"
The man pushed her forward roughly. "Not a child, dear sir, but a demon."
Cold, dark eyes studied her figure. The man raised a bony hand to lift a strand of black hair from her small shoulder. He hummed under his breath as he took in her features, from the tips of midnight black hair down to dirty toes.
The little girl's eyes widened in fear as the man dug into a pouch and handed the latter with five gold coins. The man enclosed his hand around her arm. She started squirming against the old man's grip when he tried to steer her into the carriage.
"Please, Papa! It was not my fault, believe me! Please do not sell me!" she started pleading and clawing to free herself. When her tear-filled eyes caught a sight of a boy hiding between the gates, she flailed harder.
"Caspar, please tell Papa!" she begged. "Tell Papa it was not my fault!"
The old man clicked his tongue in annoyance at the girl's struggles. He swept her off of her feet and carried her over his shoulder. The little girl's screams pierced the eerie silence of the night.
"No, Papa, please! Forgive me, do not make me go!"
She gasped out both in pain and shock when she was thrown into the wooden carriage. Before she could regain her bearings, the door was slammed shut and locked. The little girl scrambled to the little window panel and grasped the two metal rods in her hands.
"Papa! Caspar!"
With a jolt, the carriage was sent rolling forwards. The little girl continued to cry with her face pressed against the window as she watched her life and family slip away. She jumped in surprise when a hand descended on her shoulder. Spinning around, her eyes could only catch glimpses of curious face and ragged clothing in the darkness of the carriage. She pressed her back against the wooden wall, whimpering in fear.
"Do not fear, little one, I am not here to harm you," a gentle voice reached her ears. Still utterly terrified, the little girl responded by burying her face in her dirty skirt. She couldn't suppress a flinch when the same hand patted her head softly.
"There, there, do not shed anymore tears," the voice murmured soothingly. "We still have a long way to endure before we reach the slavery."
At the mention of that, the little girl cried harder. Her father had sold her to slavery and she was terrified. The gentle voice began crooning a soft lullaby. It washed over the girl's body like waves of calm. Within a few heartbeats, her eyelids started drooping. The smiling image of her sister brought her to a dreamless sleep.
Labels: Charcoal Drawings
