A Place of Little Fortune

A gray metal sheet, rusted by time, leaned against a fractured concrete wall, the wall had small cuts in its stone skin, its cement flesh pierced by dim rays of outside lamplights which led into the darkness of the room, leaving tiny pins of illumination across the several surfaces of the space. Like the yellowish dot on the sheets of Aniela's tousled bed, or the dim line on the other side of her bedroom, that showed the rugged details of one of her walls.

Aniela's hand gripped the slightly dulled edges of the metal panel, it dug into the calloused skin of her palm, and as noiselessly as she possibly could, she pulled it across the wooden boards. As it scraped against the floor her head turned swiftly back, to face the end of her room where her closed door was held, as if to make sure no one woke and caught her in the act.

Her ears trying their best to pick up any suspicious creaks, any sounds, or a heavy footstep slamming upon the floor above.

In the complete darkness of the night, faint city lights could be seen coming from the gaping hole, that had previously been covered by the metal sheet, like the glow of a peering kerosene lamp weakly held to stretch into the shadows of the night. Her oval eyes peeking through the jagged hole large enough for a person to seep through. Again Aniela glanced back to make sure no one was observing, as she crawled through the breach, her shirt harshly grinded against the surface roughened by her chiseling.

Turning around, the cover quietly slid across wood, as she placed the metallic piece back where it was. Soundlessly she crept away from the small hovel where she lived, to be welcomed into a rundown city filled with homes made out of junk and tilted decaying skyscrapers covered in underbrush.

Mud and other waste enveloped the stone streets, but even at night the city still seemed so lively. People were hustling around, merchants filled the narrow winding roads offering all kinds of goods. Aniela could hear people conversing and arguing, a group of drunken men pushed and shoved, swearing as sweat glistened down their brows out of the heat that emanated from the closeness of the masses, beyond them was nothing more than the frigid feeling of the night.

The cluttered sounds coming from every direction, made the city even more vibrant, giving off a sense of vitality, to what outsiders would believe is an abandoned city.

And yet even in such an unkempt urban area, lights were everywhere, flashing in different colors. They played across her face in bursts, blinding her as she walked by, leaving a colorful imprint in her sight, blue, green, and red swirled within her obscured vision.

A merchant lady tapped her shoulder, and Aniela in her confusion, spun around to gaze on to the woman. She was wrapped in ragged garbs, a tattered hood covered most of her face, strands of brittle black hair peered out of the cowl. From what Aniela could see she was worn out and tired, an old gashing scar ran down her shown face.

The woman lightly touched her hand, and gibberish exited her mouth, as she spoke in a foreign language which Aniela did not understand, but it seemed as though she was serving some sort of slimy misshapen lizard on a stick. A mist of humid smoke rose from the bizarre deformed food, hitting the edges of her face like a warm sweat.

As Aniela politely declined the merchant's offer, the leaving woman's scarred face and sunken eyes displayed disappointment, as she returned to her unremarkable shop; sunken eyes which were so deepened into her skull, it almost seemed as though they would fall and disappear into her sockets.

Various merchants offered all kinds of food to her, fake smiles on their faces, as their hands reached out in desperation like the crooked fingers of trees reaching for a bit of sunlight in a clearing, a kind of act for survival. The aroma of spices from the vendors filled the air, and a dense cloud of whitish steam lingered behind it, just as if a semi-transparent white cloth had been thrown on her face, and kept there only to obscure her view.

The layers of intense scents, held within the man-made mist, burned her nose, as the hot stenches navigated its way inside, singeing her nose hairs, and the humidity choked her breath, with every slight inhalation.

She waved the smoke away, but as if that would help at all.