I was ten when I
met Suphara. On the streets for three years already, I knew all the best hiding
places and escape routes around the market. I was running away from fat old
Bophat, who ran faster than you’d think he should, when I ducked under the
city’s terra cotta water pipes and dropped into the basement of one of the
Sepphir’s abandoned warehouses.
But the basement
wasn’t abandoned, and I rolled behind a support column, trying to breather
silently though my lungs were begging for more air. I’d only gotten a glimpse
of someone, and when I heard no noise, I finally leaned around the column for a
peek.
A girl sat
cross-legged on a woven mat. Her eyes were closed, her traditional braids were
wrapped around her neck, and her hands were out in front of her. She held then
both palm up, then turned her right hand over and pushed it to the side. Then
her left hand turned over and pushed down almost to the ground. Her right hand
flipped upright and lifted above her head, then slid to the left as far as she
could reach without turning. What was she doing? I crept closer.
“I’m sorting
memories,” she said quietly, and I was so surprised that I almost fell back on
my rear end. I didn’t speak out loud, did I?
“No, but you think
very loudly,” she said; and when she smiled, I fell in love. With a shake of my
head, I tried to push that thought down somewhere where she wouldn’t hear it.
While I was thinking about that, I finally heard what she had first said.
“Sorting
memories?” I asked. “Why?”
She kept her eyes
closed and her hands moving. I watched, fascinated.
“Because some I
want to keep, and some I will use,” she said. Opening her eyes, she drew her
hands together, fingertips cupped as if she held something. The air shimmered,
and I squinted to see what she was doing. She opened her hands, and a
pomegranate rested on her palm, large and red. My mouth watered at the sight.
“How did you do
that?” I asked in wonder.
She laughed.
“Magic, of course, silly.” She tore open the fruit and handed half of it to me.
I scooted closer and pulled it out of her hand.
“Can you teach
me,” I asked, sucking on a handful of the rich seeds. “That would be so
awesome!”
Laughing again,
she said, “I don’t think so. You either have magic or you don’t. If you don’t
know about it by now, I don’t think you have it,” she said thoughtfully,
spitting out a few pits.
She didn’t tell me
the price then, and I was so excited about the pomegranate and the idea of
magic, that I forgot what she said about sorting memories.
Dogs
in house:
|
Houdini
|
Time
writing
|
~1 hour
|
June
word count
|
8,975
|
Writing report:
ReplyDeleteNovel editing, Ch28. It's finally coming together. I think I missed an update or two. In-laws visiting, so writing likely to get even more sporadic!
Time: ~1 hr