Kindness

     I was crying. The day was considerably nicer than the ones before, with sun and birds. The town was nicer too, with less gray and grime.
     A woman, hanging out her washing, came over to me.
     "What's wrong? You poor thing. You're so dirty, and thin as a rail! Come, you could use a good meal." She had a youthful face and shape, but her eyes spoke of the years that she truly owned.
     She took me inside and fed me, and offered me a bath, but I dared not, lest she see. I wanted something to cover the livid tattoo scratched over my cheek, but their was nothing. Not until may years and many lives had been lost.
     She introduced me to her son. We played together in the backyard, and he did the most remarkable thing. He made me feel happy, a bubbling feeling that ran up trough my tummy as we rolled on spring grass. I felt safe, but that was not all. He could make the birds sing.
     Whatever tune he felt like hearing, he would whistle, clear and melodious. The birds would call back in their superior voices. I sang too. The boy, with his raven feather hair and yellow tinged eyes, told me he would never forget my voice. He said it was more beautiful than any bird in the history of ever. I think of that time when I sing, alone, deep in the forest.
     I like to think about the boy, wondering what happened to that girl he met, with a voice more beautiful than any bird in the history of ever. I wonder if we will find each other, some day in the future.

I spent the day curled in a ball, desperately hungry and thirsty, but not daring to ask anyone for food.

When it all began

     I woke shivering in a dark alley, sewer rats skittering along the walls.
The rain was gray and dismal. I tried to remember the night before, but it was gone. All I knew was an aching all over.
     I swept my damp hair to a side, noticing the grime and grit. I crouched over a small puddle to see how dirty the rest of me was.
     I leaped back in shock. There, on the bone next to my right eye was the mark. It meant a criminal. Someone who had been sentenced to death. What had I done?
     I quickly smudged some dirt over the mark. No one could see, or I would be killed. Tears of shock and horror ran down my cheeks. What had happened? Had I hurt someone? Had I... the thought was to terrible to finish.
     I remembered walking across dead grass, huge chunks of craggy, blackened, and broken rock around me. Is that what i had done? Blown something up? I had had powers for two years. How had I done that?
     I heard voices. I peeked out of my alley and saw a bustling market. I had not noticed it earlier in my distress.
     I ran then. Every way, sticking to the quietest paths. I had to stop, hours later, too exhausted to move on. I slumped to the ground in an alley much like the one I had left and slept.
    

An Introduction.

This blog is dedicated to one of my characters. I will not post as often as I will on my other blog. If you like what you read and want to see my other blog, the address is: rosehawthornthecool.blogspot.com  You can also find it in my profile. Make note that my profile and other blog do not reflect Alicia Dragontounge. I will speak in her voice for most of the posts. I hope you enjoy seeing the world from her perspective. Ado.