The Wall

Gray clouds crawled through the evening sky, the promise of a storm trembling in the bellies of the fullest pockets. Warm puffs hung in the air from Athilea’s quick breathing as she crept through the cold, damp streets, avoiding the streams of sewage running down the thin canals. Rats feasted on rotten food, and drunks lay passed out in the alleyways.

She tucked behind the stone column of a corner store while a group of peasants hurried along, pulling her hood over her long dark hair and stepping farther into the shadows. Her beauty far surpassed that of the local females. If anyone recognized her, they would drag her right back to the low class brothel she had just escaped.

           “You there! Move along, harlot filth!”

           She startled as the portly owner of the corner store shook his fist in her direction and slammed the door shut, muttering under his breath about street rats coming in all sizes. She needed to keep moving if she wanted to be free. She wanted nothing more. To walk through a town without men sneering at her with rotting teeth. To have the choice to use her body however she wanted. To simply be. The brothel’s gang would be looking for her by now. She couldn’t go back to that place. To those men.

Freedom lay just ahead in the form of a short, crumbling wall. Beyond, was a vast forest of deep green pines, the creatures and wood rumored to exist through moon magic, though none of the local peasants were brave enough to enter its borders and discover its full mysteries.

Tears sprang to her eyes and she closed them, inhaling a deep breath. On the exhale, she bolted.

Fifty yards until the wall.

Tears streaked into her hairline as she ran.

Forty yards.

She willed her legs to go faster.

Thirty yards.

Shouts rang through the streets behind her.

No.

Twenty yards.

A sob escaped her throat as movement from her peripheral caught her attention. They were here. And they would drag her back, dead or alive.

Ten yards.

A scream ripped free of her throat as Athilea sprinted the remaining distance, and launched her body onto the wall.

Stones cascaded to the ground under her weight, and she threw herself onto the grass on the other side. Blood oozed from her palms, though she did not falter. She stood from the ground, and ran. No one dared follow her into the tree line.

***

           Twilight arrived, laying a blanket of darkest blue above the pine trees. Even the thick clouds could not hide the twinkle of the brightest stars awakening. The air rumbled once more, a warning of downpour from the clouds above. Athilea slowed and shoved her hand into her ribcage to soothe an aching cramp as she gasped for air. Looking around for a hiding spot to sleep in, she noticed a plume of smoke snaking into the sky not too far in the distance. Her brows furrowed, though her feet cautiously led her closer.

The trees thinned, and she found a decrepit cottage in the center of a small clearing. What she assumed were once beautiful flower beds now lay dead and forgotten, overgrown vines and weeds surrounding the crumbling foundation. Athilea walked slowly towards the cottage, unsure of who, or what, resided within.

She rapped her knuckles against the splintering wood of the front door, with no response.

           “Hello?” Athilea called out apprehensively, as she opened the creaky door and peeked her head inside, “May I enter?”

           “Come in, child. Come in.” A voice like broken glass running along stone answered back.

Athilea startled, then slipped inside. She glanced around the dim cottage, unsure of where the voice had come from. In the corner of the cottage sat an old hag, frail and wrinkled, hunched over in her chair. Her hair was thin and white, drifting on a phantom breeze, and a toothless smile grinned at Athilea. The black dress she wore hung off her too thin body.

           “My apologies, I-I did not mean to disturb you,” she stuttered. “I was looking for a place to rest for the night.”

           “My sweet dear, there is no need to apologize. It has been some time since I had company.” A light flared in the crone’s eyes. “Please, come sit.”

           Athilea paused by the door, and then found herself walking to the old woman before she had decided to do so. She knelt next to her. The hag reached a crippled hand towards her and grazed her cheek, “Now tell me, what worries you?”

           Athilea stared at the fire for a moment, “I have been alone for as long as I can remember. I survived off discarded food scraps, sleeping in abandoned shacks. I was only a child when the brothel’s gang found me and brought me to work at their establishment.” The reflection of the orange flames danced in Athilea’s eyes as she spoke. “They abused me. Brainwashed me. They said they had saved me from a life on the streets. That I should be grateful.” Her eyes stung at the memories and she tried to swallow the lump in her throat, “I would have rather died on the streets than be a slave to them.”

She felt the heavy weight of her words settle in her chest. With tears streaming down her face she whispered, “I just want to disappear. I want a quiet life where I can make my own choices. Not be a slave for someone else’s pleasure.”

           As Athilea spoke, a sadistic grin formed on the crone’s mouth. “Child, do not weep. I believe we can help each other on this night.” She fumbled at her side for a wooden cane and stood with more strength than Athilea thought possible. “Come, I will prepare tea.”

           Confused, Athilea followed her to the kitchen and sat in silence as the crone prepared the hot drink.

           “Drink up child, that’s it. All of it.” The woman cooed.

She handed Athilea a chipped teacup, an herbal smell wafting to reach Athilea’s nose as she drank. They sat in silence for a long moment and Athilea felt increasingly tired. Her day had been long, and she was in dire need of sleep.

           Suddenly the crone looked to Athilea, a newfound strength burning in her emerald eyes. “Child, I can provide you with a new life,” she rasped. “You would never need to run again. I simply ask for something in return.”

           Athilea furrowed a brow and looked down at herself, “I have nothing to give but the clothes off my back.”

           “Yes, the dress is lovely but that is not what I am asking for.”

           Somehow, the crone had gotten mere inches from Athilea’s face.

           “What I want…is your beauty.”

           “My-my beauty? How could I offer such a thing?” Athilea was not sure she heard her correctly.

           The crone’s chin began to wobble, eyes wide and hungry, “You deserve to be free from the grasp of men who will use you. I can give you that.”

Discomfort crept through Athilea’s chest, and she glanced away.

The crone swayed to stay in her line of sight.

“I have certain…abilities, child. To see the cleanliness and beauty of ones soul. Your life has been hard, yes. Yet your soul remains beautifully clean,” she moved her crippled hands as if to touch Athilea’ face. “I need only an ounce of that. Then, you will be granted freedom from this life.”

           Athilea sat for a moment, groggily considering the offer. The crone must be insane. Beauty was not something to be given away or traded. Though the longer she sat, the more she wanted what the crone offered. To live without fear.

           “Yes,” she found herself saying.

           The crone cackled, a boisterous noise thundering through the tiny cottage, and grasped the sides of Athilea’s face. A blinding light flashed in her eyes, a pain like she had never experienced seemed to crack her skull in two. The cottage faded away and everything went black.

***

           Athilea opened her eyes and found she was laying on the floor. Dust particles floated through the golden morning light drifting through the small kitchen window.

“Oh gods. My head,” bile rose in her throat as she tried to push herself into a sitting position. A sweet humming came from the other side of the room and she looked around for the crone.       

           A beautiful woman with hair the color of fire was preparing tea. Long, creamy legs extended from the short black dress, a full bust popping out the top. She offered Athilea a dazzling smile, then stalked towards her on the floor. A predator sizing up its prey.

           “Thank you, dear child,” a voice like velvet slithered down her skin, “I have not had the opportunity to steal a young maiden’s beauty for years. Though I must admit, I may have taken more than an ounce. I believe it will last me quite some time.” Those emerald green eyes sparkled as she winked at Athilea, then stood and walked out of the cottage, leaving the front door wide open.

           Athilea frantically crawled to a nearby hutch, using the handles to pull her exhausted body upright. She caught her reflection in the mirror atop it, and let out a deafening howl.

“No!” she wailed.

Her skin was sickly green, with warts sprouting from her nose and chin. Her new under bite caused too-large teeth to protrude from her mouth. Where her luscious dark locks once grew were now small patches of stringy, dirty hair. She turned in place to view the abnormal bony structures protruding from her spine that caused her to hunch at an angle.

Tears spilled down her face and she roared into the still, morning air. She hunched down onto all four legs, and darted into the woods. `