My Name is Minette, Chapter Sixteen: The Other Side of Town

The mines were on the opposite side of town, set into the hills and crags just beneath the walls like orange and brown canyons. Dark caverns stretched underground for miles, yawning, black mouths opening out from the hillside.

They headed toward Main Street, which was a straight shot through Droz and out the other side to the hills full of copper.

When they got close, though, Paw’s nose grew just as wrinkled as hers.

Main Street was the center of life in Droz, and apparently all that life was all out in the streets today.

The heat pushed crowds into its shady streets and pubs, food and drink in high demand. Bodies and donkeys and horses crowded one another, elbows bumping elbows and shoulders hitting shoulders, creating a density like that of cranberries shoved into a bucket to be smushed into juice.

“I know another way,” Paw grunted, jerking on Lumpy’s reins, directing the horse away from the loud, overlapping shouts and cries of peddlers and hagglers on Main Street. He took them on a zig-zagging route, moving farther and farther east until they were on the edge of Droz.

Minette had never been to this part of the city before in her life. She sat up straighter, holding her hand up as like a visor and squinting into the sun, peering at the buildings strewn about.

This neighborhood felt abandoned. Instead of cobblestones and pavers and bricks, this part of town was dotted with listing huts with gaps in the thatch; warped-wood, grey wooden buildings; and scraggly, unkempt vegetation creeping along dirt roads.

They were close to a run-down section of the wall, black with soot and shiny with moss, close enough that the entire area was cast in a permanent shadow.

They passed a few people walking in the road, wandering in the fields, lurking on porches. Each and every one of them stared up at Minette as she passed, stopping in what they were doing. She was a spectacle, something new, and the tired mistrust was apparent on their lined faces.

It made her feel itchy, sweaty, like eyes were sticking to the small of her back along with the humidity.

They were outsiders. They weren’t welcome here.

Sagas Among the Arcana: If you just tried harder . . .

This week’s 3 card reading  (using the White Numen: Sacred Animal Tarot by AlbaBG):

8 of pentacles – high standards

8 of swords – self-confinement

7 of wands – control

 

 

 

 

 

“You know if you would just work harder . . .”

The boy has heard it many times in his short seventeen years of life. Teachers, parents, parents’ friends, friends, girlfriends, and now law enforcement.

The policewoman at the desk is giving him a lecture about something — he doesn’t care. All he did was steal a pack of Cheetos. He was hungry and he wasn’t fond of his mom’s Sunday stew. He tells the policewoman such as she’s about to hand him a pamphlet for some troubled youth program, and she throws him a scathing frown. Her eyebrows quirk up.

“Yes, now, it’s a pack of Cheetos, but two weeks ago it was . . .” and she continues to list off all his transgressions from the past month. If he doesn’t stop her soon she’ll get into the previous years as well. He isn’t able to, though, because she’s obstinate. By the end of it all, she gives him a warning.

“Soon it won’t be juvie anymore.”

~

He stole a chicken. And now his hands are being tied behind his back. His girlfriend raises her eyebrows at him eerily akin to the policewoman from a year ago.

They were out on a date, and the police found him to arrest him for the chicken he kidnapped yesterday.

Before she can say something, like seriously babe? he takes action himself. 

“We’re through.” He wants to spit in her face to gross out the police and throw her off her game, but he still kind of likes her and doesn’t want to ruin her day anymore. She’s about to fight back, perhaps to disagree with his statement because unlike him she’s loyal to a fault, but he’s already in the car and being driven to jail if the policewoman from last year is to be trusted. He is an adult now, after all.

He’s not too upset about the breakup (and definitely not about the stolen chicken). This girlfriend had said it too. 

“You know, babe, if you just tried harder . . .”

~

Really, all of their standards are just much too high for him. 

That’s the problem he tells himself as he socks this douche in the face. The guy’s teeth are crooked now; he probably tastes blood. Man shouldn’t have taken his beer like that.

His current girlfriend looks at him horrified, “Dude, what the hell?

She’s thoroughly pissed now. He can sense it. He knows that she just wanted a night to rewind after all the exams she just had. She’s kind of the studious type so he doesn’t know what she’s doing wasting her time on him. Maybe she thinks dumbasses are sexy. He should just save her the trouble and dump her like his girlfriend from four years ago.

He doesn’t have the chance to, though. The other guy comes back to punch him. It’s a nasty hit, and he doesn’t feel like he’ll be able to chew again. 

He plans on paying the favor back because for once in his life he needs to be on top of some situation. Also, he needs to defend his honor in front of the girl he’s planning to dump in just a few minutes. 

But he doesn’t have the chance to do either as he slips on glass, and suddenly his head feels warm and sticky. He hears his girlfriend’s panicked voice, unused to being in such situations, and sees the smirk on that bastard’s face.

In the end, he decides he’s tired and lets his eyes flutter, anticipating an awakening in his favorite holding cell.

My Name is Minette, Chapter Fifteen: The Promise

She felt like a specimen on a biologist’s desk about to be dissected, insides revealed.

But she was being selfish.

It wasn’t all about her. It wasn’t about her hair or her clothes or what she wanted. It was about Rhys, and Irma, too, and Maw and Paw. It was about the house and the animals and the smithy and the copper awnings covering businesses all over town. It was about a legacy and a promise.

A promise Minette had been held to since the day she was born. A promise she could not break.

She blew out her candle, sinking into a collection of nightmares filled with disembodied hands touching her, pulling her taller and wider, ballrooms burning away, mirrors breaking when she passed them.

 

***

 

That morning, she awoke on time, ignoring Edric’s Tale on her nightstand. She went downstairs, kissed Maw on the cheek, and grabbed a chunk of goat cheese. She ate it while sitting in the back of the cart, watching Lumpy’s tail flick persistent flies away.

It was even hotter today than yesterday, and the whole world seemed to groan under it, Minette included. The cicadas were loud this year, and their cries sang of exhaustion. They made Minette feel like she was permanently caught between sleep and wakefulness.

They were their only cart large enough to haul from the mines, which also happened to be their shittiest cart. Minette felt straw and dirt and nails poke her in the butt, and the slightest pothole or pile of horse shit sent her flying. She held onto the cart with a white-knuckled fist, chewing at the inside of her cheek and trying valiantly to block out any and all of her thoughts.

At the mines today, she would pick a nice big lode of copper to take to the smithy and demonstrate her skills to the town in a masterpiece of some kind, probably a fancy awning. This would start her partnership with her father. And that would turn her future from molten metal, shape-changing and uncertain, into something solid, hammered down. Inescapable.

Sagas Among the Arcana: Sink

This week’s 3 card reading  (using the White Numen: Sacred Animal Tarot by AlbaBG):

8 of wands

2 of wands reversed

ace of wands reversed

 

You rush, so you step too far into the quicksand and 

                                                                                                   sink

                                                                                                               sink 

                                                                                                                           sink.

But what you expect to be grainy dirt are actually reptiles that entwine and bind you. Your hands are coiled by cool scales. Entrancing and atrocious at the same time. They tighten and tighten

You’re trapped.

How could you be so foolish?

You should have looked around more, taken a step back, and observed

But you’ve never been one to observe, have you?

Perhaps, now, you should observe. Calm your mind and pay none of it to the 

                                                                                                               rattle 

                                              rattle

rattle

                                                                                                                                              rattle

                                                                               rattle

Soon, it’s too hard to think. There are nooses around your neck and your energy drainssss

All you remember is:

Act too quick,

                                 then

                                                you 

                                                              sink.

My Name Is Minette, Chapter Fourteen: All Too Much

“Good.” Rhys patted her shoulder, an awkward little tap. “Um. Also, can I go to school when it’s your smithy? You know how Paw is, but you’re different.”

“I promise,” she said, watching him light up. She was about to explode. She needed to release her emotions, her stress, her fear, but she couldn’t do it in front of Rhys. She couldn’t let him know. She pushed him off the cot. “Now go to bed. Maw will pull your ear off if she finds you up.”

Rhys hopped up. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he whispered in excitement, running out of the room. His footsteps faded, and another pair crept closer.

“You can come in now,” Minette said, and Irma slunk into the room.

“Morty…” Irma trailed off, hugging her arm. “Will you really look after us when–when Maw and Paw are gone?”

Minette’s throat went thick. She stood and took Irma by the shoulders. She watched Irma’s bleary eyes flit across the room in agitation. “Yes,” Minette said in a firm, steady voice, despite all that was roiling about inside her, “and you’ll be just fine. You’ll make your own way. We’ll prove them wrong. You’re a brave girl, Irma. And powerful.”

Irma gave her a lopsided smile. “Rhys was right. You’ll do great.”

Minette smiled back, flicking Irma’s nose. She needed Irma to get out of here so she could process the chopping block she was standing on in peace. Worries pounded like a headache behind her forehead: There was already a woman. Minette was already a suitor.  “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” Irma slipped out, and along with her, a choked, ragged breath pushed out of Minette. All her energy left her, and she deflated, sinking onto the bed, putting her head in her hands. She stared unseeingly at the floor.

There was already a woman. There was already a woman. The sentence repeated in her brain, over and over, like an alarm bell. Maw and Paw had already talked to another mother and father. Both sets of parents had had a conversation that amounted to, “yes, your child should procreate with my child. That sounds like a great idea.”

Sagas Among the Arcana: The Queen of Coins

This week’s one card reading: The Queen of Coins

 

The Queen is one to share her riches with all. She’s not a queen in the typical sense though, the people simply call her their queen because of the way she nurtures them all. 

Today, she arranges buckets, upon buckets of grape tomatoes; all of which she grew in her garden. She thought it would be nice to share them with everyone, for no other reason than that she wanted them all to have some pleasure on this bright day. 

She picks up one of the wooden barrels. It’s heavy — but still, it’s fine. The wood is rough on her arms; they’re tough enough, she says though. It’s a simple burden she’s willing to carry.

~

On the way to her first destination, The Queen sees the

 town’s princess. The town deemed her a princess because of her beauty, she’s always smiling, and always engaging. 

No one has ever complimented my appearance, The Queen thinks a bit wantingly. Wait, no  — she immediately does away at the green vines that tempt to entwine around and capture her mind. She’s a good person, that’s enough.

The Princess drops the basket she’s holding. The roses in it all spill out. People around all rush to pick them up for her. Someone dashes into The Queen; the tomatoes seem to roll and threaten to fall out into an avalanche. The Queen squeezes the heavy bucket firm against her chest; it hurts. The pressure is a bit too much.

People pick up the roses and prick themselves on thorns. The Princess flushes graciously. The attention she bestows is dazzling.

Someone help me, please. The Queen doesn’t say this aloud; her annoyance is passive and she shows no sign of weakness. The heels of her palms threaten to bleed under the jagged wood.

The Queen somehow also yearns for that dazzling attention from The Princess. She wonders what it would be like to be acknowledged by someone so charismatic.

But she’s not going to ask for it. 

~

The tomatoes are delivered and people are grateful.

Oh, you didn’t have to! They had all said. You’re too kind.

The Queen appreciates it. The words give her energy. Nex

t time, she’ll pass out the strawberries. 

As she walks back home with empty buckets, her hands still burn a bit. No one had noticed the red marks on them.

She sees a lonely red rose on the road. She picks it up, her blood smears on the petals, but no one would be able to tell.

Only she can.