HIDING- Part 1

CHAPTER 1: HIDING- Part 1

Above a vibrant sunset hung a darkened crystal blue sky filled with lazy clouds, sparkles of a few early but bright stars, colorful kites of all shapes and sizes, and the melodic thrum of bells in great towers being rung.

Below the horizon laid a great stone city with sprawling buildings capped with slanted clay roofs and tiny dots of lantern light that poked out behind open windows. The maze of wide streets were filled with people who had danced, sung, and ate together since dawn.

Even at the horizon, people were either cozy up in their warm houses eagerly hiding from the crisp evening breeze or on the rooftops eagerly enjoying that same breeze to fly their kites.

Everyone was happy.

Everyone.

Those with four legs, pointy ears, and large hexagonal eyes. Those with long beards, flat noses, and iron skin. Those with fleshy limbs, thin bones, and meaty brains. Those with tusks. Those with wings. Those with anything. Those with nothing.

Everyone.

That was the world behind the eyes of the young girl standing behind a wooden counter, trying to not appear too displeased at the slobbering old man before her.

That man had left a good dozen empty bottles of her family's claim to fame at his table. A few of the glasses had shattered to pieces on the floor already, and the flies that normally followed the man around happily died in the remnants still on the floor.

There was a decent gathering of other customers in the shop too. Some browsed the various colored glasses that were placed neatly on the polished marble shelves, while others stood around the rounded tables to drink their purchases. The lone man in patchwork clothes was of the latter, and had pushed himself off of his spot at the far table and stumbled towards the front counter, only pausing to grumble as he bumped into the others or wipe the snot staining his face. 

The girl looked beyond the stained glass windows of the shop, at the dark overcast sky that tirelessly bore down on the town below, at the crowds of scowling people that milled about the thin streets, at anything but what was in front of her.

It was when the girl behind the counter didn't react to his presence that he coughed phlegm into his hand and slammed it palm down onto the countertop. The girl could make out the two black hairs poking out of the mole on the already fully grey-haired man's nose when he leaned closer to her. The smell of mold and cattle invaded her lungs en masse despite her intended shallow breaths. One of the flies surrounding the old man landed directly on his eye. He didn't so much as twitch as it went under his eyelid.

Just for a moment, however brief, the girl burned the city behind her eyes down to the ground.

"Sallel, if you don't get your dirty hands off my father's new counter, I swear to God I'll-!"

Before the girl could even fully begin to roll up the sleeves of her shirt, her right hand already raised up into a tightly balled fist, the door behind her burst open with enough force to whip her curly mop of red hair about her face.

"Mr. Galand! So good to see you in the shop again! You're enjoying today's offerings I hope, yeeeeees?"

With a bright smile adorning his wide head, and a resounding voice unfit for a man of his stature, the flat-nosed man easily slipped between the two and directed Sallel's attention towards the bottles beneath the counter.

"See that one? Right there? The last blue bottle labeled 'Heinous'? Er, I mean the blue one with a square bottom! Um, the bottle on the far left? Uh, here let me just grab it for you!"

The squat man spoke quicker than his arms could flap about in various gestures while he gently pushed the girl to the side.

Sallel simply gave a huff before he removed his hands from the counter, the yellow goop still splattered on the surface.

"I know how to read Mr. Thestern, and I know what that word you said means."

The squat man's face briefly blanched upon hearing Sallel's high pitched voice before it was immediately switched back to the plastered smile.

"Of cooouurse! Of cooouurse! I was just jesting! You know how us old folk can be with our jokes!"

Mr. Thestern quickly scooted out from the side of the counter, blue bottle in hand, with a hearty laugh as he then patted the older man on the back without hesitation.

"Now here! This is gonna be a little deal between us, but I can give you this bottle for free. Zero cost to you. Absolutely no coin needed, my friend. With how much this sells it's the only one I have in the shop, and is the last one available for the next few moon cycles. This brew takes a special process you see! So, if you reeeaaally like it, which I can guarantee you will, the next full batch of these bubble busters will be yours for the taking! At normal market price, of course. How does that sound, friend?"

As the stout man made his pitch to Sallel, he guided them both towards the front door at an easy pace and made sure to emphasize the charade of hiding the secret deal from the other customers as they walked past.

The remaining patrons didn't even react as the interaction faded beyond the shop's walls and the door closed behind the two with a soft thunk.

The girl finally let out a hefty sigh before she wiped the dried mucus dust off the counter.

***

Behind the main shop front with its polished wooden counters, marble shelves, and colorful glass bottles, is a mess.

A few thin walls of rotted wood, stone floors turned to gravel, a single room with curtain dividers, and every inch of available space taken up with distillery materials.

"I still don't get why you suck up to him. It's not like he does anything for us."

"He brings us money, Hailee, on an actual schedule."

"And that's not something any of our other regulars can do? Seriously, dad? Think about who comes into the shop every day."

The girl looked up from her straw bed and at her father's silhouette against the curtain between them. A dim candle burned beside the stout man as he went about his nightly routine hunched over his desk made of cobbled together crates.

"Believe me, you'll make sense of it eventually."

The man's soft laughter reached beyond the curtain to his disgruntled daughter, though his face only momentarily held onto his typical poster smile. His deep wrinkles were only heightened against the flickering light as he methodically walked between stacks of filled containers and various machinery pushed up against the far wall. His hands were slow against the dark when trying to write the labels needed for tomorrow.

The girl leaned back in her bed with a huff, staring up at the starless night sky from the small window to her right, and then closed her eyes.

The scratching of the dull stylus against dried parchment filled the following silence of the waning hours until the girl's gentle snoring overtook it.

Against the curtain behind him, the rarely clear moonlight briefly illuminated the outline of Mr. Thestern's sleeping daughter before quickly being covered again by clouds. 

His eyes began to water as he watched.

"Though, truly, I hope you never have to."

***

The streets were full of mud.

The streets were full of people.

People were always muddy.

Whether on their boots, on their clothes, or on their wagons, the mud was there.

With rain it was worse.

Sallel was always playing in the mud, he was an expert on the subject.

It's why when his blood mixed with the mud, he was confused.

He'd seen blood spill before.

A horse-drawn wagon had run over his mother right when the sun was at its highest.

He had watched his little brother get eaten alive in an alleyway two streets over.

Sallel remembered the sound, the warmth, and the swirls the red liquid had made in the mud.

So why had his blood turned the mud to dust?

Why did the silver boots blocking his vision not have mud on them?

He had lied.

Sallel wanted to read those books that were in his friend's basement, maybe even write one himself when he was older.

He hated being a kid.

Kids always got stuck in the mud.