Pariah

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
The story of a pariah that was chased from her home for being different, for having powers.

Submitted: March 27, 2017

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Submitted: March 27, 2017

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It was cold. Unbearably cold as the wind played with the bare trees. The winter is always harsh and unforgiving, but although I have lived through seventeen winters, I could never get used to my numb fingers and constant shivering. The few layers that wrapped me were nowhere near protective enough to keep the glacial wind from creeping up my body, through the many tears and holes of my laughable clothes. Laughable indeed, near pathetic. Only a thin and oversized shirt, faded with age covered the upper half of me and baggy pants covered the bottom half. A beanie that someone had pitifully given me a couple years ago was most likely the warmest thing I owned.

Every day I moved around the small village from the first to the last rays of sunlight, wishing for a bronze coin from a sympathetic passersby, a silver one at most. Unfortunately, most days I came home empty-handed. My home, a small abandoned wooden shed on the outskirts of the village. The hinges of the door were loose while the door itself was decaying, its surface uneven. The roof had given up and had begun to cave in, letting in everything the weather had to offer. Only the walls, it seemed, were sturdy enough to hold, although the persistent groaning and cracking could have let anyone think otherwise. A small, unkempt window had been built on the adjacent wall from the door, the only light reflecting from it were my eyes. Clear and shimmering like the sea, falling against the shores with specks of the dark ocean on a stormy night, crashing and churning. Underneath lay my bed, in other words a mound of blankets and rags, laid in the only corner where the weather could thankfully, not reach. The only other things occupying the shed were objects of a long-forgotten past. A past where I still had a family that cared for me, when they did not mark me as being different and cast me away from the house, forbidding me from even setting foot in their well tended garden, claiming I was too dangerous. My powers too overwhelming for them to bear. Guards had taken me by the arms and brought me to the gate of the mansion, closing them as soon as I had passed through. With the few silver and gold coins I had managed to bring with me, I managed to survive for a few months, but it was blatantly not enough. After a two days slog, I reached the village but as soon as its people saw that my money and signs of wealth were disappearing, they stopped caring, leaving me alone. An outcast. A pariah.

When dusk arrived and the slight warmth that had been here disappeared, I had gotten nothing. Most people preferred to ignore me. The only looks I recieved were of pity from a few and disgust from others, crinkling their noses as they walked past. I found that bizarre as I kept myself clean and washed every day in the privacy I had behind my home. I waited until the last person had gone through the doorway of their warm house before I reluctantly floundered to my shed.

Opening the door with caution, I slipped inside and closed the door behind me. I hastily undressed, my skin suddenly exposed to the air. Next to the pile of rags, hung a towel on a rusty nail. I wrapped myself in it and walked out to the rear of the shed. Once there, I set the towel on the floor and closed my eyes. I brought my hands out in front of me, shutting out the cold that threatened to engulf me. Clearing my mind, I clenched my fists, becoming aware of every water particle in my surrounding. Slowly, I opened my hands and spread my arms in a welcoming gesture. Warm water accumulated and gracefully swirled around me, following the movements of my fingers and progressively gathering above my head to stream down my body, washing away the dirt. I repeated the spell a few more times before I felt clean. My face. My nails. Grime had gathered everywhere. I took the opportunity to summon water in my hands, quenching my thirst that I had come to realize was present. Once satisfied, I wrapped myself in my towel and returned to the shack, my bare feet stinging from the barren ground. I clothed myself with an oversize brown shirt, one sleeve had been torn off and the collar had a tear, traveling through to my shoulder blades. Sighing, I made my way onto the pile of rags I had come to know as my bed and lay down, fetching the blankets around me to bring me warmth. Images from my home, my real home, flowed into my mind. A grand mansion, with cream colored paint that shimmered with the summer sun, a flat roof slanting at an angle to meet the walls, where vines had elegantly covered some of the smooth surface. In front of it lay a garden with a marble fountain in the middle, an angel in the center, its wings spread wide. Before realizing it, tears had started to trickle down my cheeks, my sadness soaked up by the rags. My bottom lip began to quiver. I turned my face towards the wall, waiting for the darkness to swallow me callously.

Gentle knocks awoke me. I stood up alarmed, my heart racing. I guardedly advanced towards the door and opened it, uncertain of what awaited me.

“Brynn.”

There stood a woman, around the same age as me. The name “Coelestia” appeared in my mind. I didn’t know why. She smiled at me compassionately. A sweet, innocent smile. Her iridescent golden eyes boring into me with warmth. She opened her hand, I thought she wanted something but I was wrong. On her palm rested a flickering, naked flame. One that she had summoned with magic. Fire and Water had met.


© Copyright 2018 Lacey Klair. All rights reserved.

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