Chapter 1
“Ali, what is WRONG with you? Care to explain it for the benefit of us normal girls?” Chelsea smirked as her minions snickered at her pathetic attempt to insult me.
So pathetic it didn’t even dignify a reply from one as majestic as me. Yeah right, majestic, magnificent, mature me.
“Chelsea you’re just an angry, self centred, arrogant, bitch and we both know angry arrogant bitches always get what’s coming to them sooner or later.”
Chelsea’s cheeks flushed as red as if I had given her a good slapping. Which she deserved many times over by the way. Her minions looked at her expectantly.
“You-,” Chelsea stopped mid retort, her gaze locked on something behind me. Or someone. Three guess’s who?
I pivoted around to find Matron Pilts standing not six inches from me. Her screwed up expression resembled that of a cow with really bad gas. This seemed an accurate description of her to me.
“Ali, that comment just earned you chamber pot duty for the rest of the week”
“But M-,”
“No buts, or do you want to do it next week also? Now hurry and do it before bed. You have ten minutes” Her steely gaze deflated my resolve. She plodded into the kitchen without taking her eyes from me, portly figure swaying with each step.
I swung back to glare at Chelsea whose smug expression faulted as she looked into my eyes.
That’s it, this time she IS getting what’s coming to her, express delivery.
I pulled myself together let my expression fade and turned toward the dorm to begin my unjust punishment, and concoct Chelsea’s just one.
Ten minutes later as I got my nightgown out, I noticed my roommate Juniper staring at me glumly from her bed. She’s a mousy girl, brown eyes, brown hair, mild manner and generally quiet. The complete opposite of me really. I had amber-blonde-ish hair, green eyes and was frequently told I was annoying and obnoxious. The only thing we had in common was our height and athletic build.
“You forgot.” She stated in a flat emotionless voice.
“Forgot what?” I wrapped my brain, “Oh, I’m sorry June, happy birthday!”
“Thanks, it’s strange, I’m eighteen but I don’t feel any different.” She closed her eyes and sighed.
“Look at the bright side, at least now you can leave and get your own life when you want or find work. I have another year to wait.” Waiting seemed to be all my life had consisted of for the passed seventeen years.
“Mmmm...” She mumbled into her pillow.
I slid into my bed and stared at the grey and brown striped walls, thinking of life outside the orphanage. I wished that my father would turn up on the doorstep, gather me straight up into his arms pull me into an expensive carriage and take me back to his castle in the tropical northern reaches. Only a few of the other girls could fantasize about such things, those of us who had never known our parents. My father would have a full banquet ready for my arrival, as-well as a wardrobe full of amazingly unique pretty dresses and dazzling jewellery…..
I awoke to June shaking me.
“Alica get your sorry lazy ass out of bed, its time for breakfast”
I stifled a yawn and rolled out of bed onto the floor.
“You’re a real slob you know that?” June scolded me.
“Yip”
I got to my feet and put on one of my three outfits. Of which two were the same tatty uniform and the third was an old pair of black pants and green shirt for garden duty.
Once downstairs we wolfed down our meagre shares of eggs and toast, and set off to my favourite class, fencing. Very few girls orphanages or schools did fencing, but Miss Farlo, the orphanage owner believed it helped preserve our figure and therefore gave us a better chance of attracting the attentions of a wealthy suitor.
I just liked it because I was one of the top of the class, and could beat Chelsea.
“Collect a saber and line up against the wall” Mr Swan was aptly named, thin, graceful with an eerily long neck. Looking at him gave me goose-bumps.
Fencing took place behind the stables at the back of the orphanage buildings. The sabers were stored in the saddle and tack room, as we had no horses of our own.
“I would like to introduce Eliza here” he motioned to a small, brown haired, eleven or so year old girl next to him, “I will explain how this works as this is her first fencing lesson. I will begin by pairing you off against someone who is of as similar build, skill and age to you as possible. Then I will give a few instructions of the order of thrusts, ripostes and such you and your sparring partner will alternate through. That order will last for twenty minutes after which I will allow a small break before we begin again with a different order”
Mr Swan paired me off with Juniper.
“The order shall be low thrust, riposte, middle thrust, high feint, low thrust. On guard. Begin!”
Mr Swan showed Eliza each move separately off to the side with a wooden practice saber. June and I went at it in a frenzy. I lead and she parried each thrust with equal ease before she lead and forced me to block her elegant steady thrusts.
Drenched in sweat and panting after a hard two hours of fencing we cleaned and placed our sabers in the saddle and tack room and walked back towards the main orphanage building to begin the day’s morning duties. The orphanage is a three story, ugly, square building with one tower, which is five stories. My back hurt more than usual and it was amazingly itchy in between my shoulder blades. I scrunched my face up and reached around trying to get at the accursed itch.
“You ok?” June was looking at me quizzically.
“Yea, my back is just really, really itchy” I frowned, hoping it would go away soon.
June didn’t reply, she had turned to look at the road.
I followed her gaze. Dozens of soldiers marched passed the rusty gates of the orphanage, fully armed and armoured. June and I shared a look and jogged the rest of the way. We insinuated ourselves into the group of girls by the gate, eavesdropping.
“-heard they’re going to Bronson, because marauders have been seen heading in that direction” said Pheadrie, one of Chelsea’s right hand minions.
“Marauders?” a younger girl asked in an extra high pitched squeal.
“Thieves and murderers”
“Hah, they just want the business the soldiers will bring, Bronson’s a beggar town” said another of the minions.
“Shut up Jess, you know my parents came from there”
“Oh, they did? Well that just proves-”
June grabbed my arm roughly, “we should go, you have extra duties this week remember?”
I scowled at her, but went. After morning duties, lunch of stale jam scones and cheese was served.
Our second class that day was cooking, which portly matron Pilts taught in the orphanage kitchen. We were split into groups of four, and I was unlucky enough to get the angry, self centred, arrogant, bitch in my group. Our task was to make hazelnut bread. Which we failed miserably in as Chelsea added extra flour and yeast to the dough while I was distracted by the incessant, growing itch in my back.
When Matron Pilts tested our bread she blanched and looked straight at me.
“Alica! What did you do to this bread?” Chelsea grinned at me over her shoulder.
“I didn-” I began to protest.
“Trying to get back at me for yesterday by poisoning me is unacceptable Alica. You shall be on rookery duty and confined to the rookery for the next two weeks instead of your other punishments” She scowled at me.
My jaw dropped. Rookery duty was the downright dirtiest and most hated job that is given as punishment. It consisted of cleaning bird shit off the floorboards in the tower while being shat on, feeding the birds, and on top of that being confined to the rookery and trying to sleep on those same hard floorboards as well as being under constant attack from angry messenger pigeons.
Rookery…for two weeks? She has to be kidding, I didn’t even do anything.
“Matron I didn’t do anything!” I exclaimed.
Matron Pilts scowl deepened, “NOW YOU BEGIN LYING ALICA! I WILL NOT STAND FOR IT. A MONTH OF ROOKERY DUTY THEN!”
A month!? I was too stunned to speak. How did this happen?
I glanced at Chelsea; even my arch enemy looked astonished about this punishment.
Matron Pilts sent one last dark look my way before stomping out.
Everyone followed her with their eyes until she was out of sight, then they went straight to me.
June grabbed me from behind and dragged me out of the kitchen all the way to our room.
Chapter 2
Solitary Confinement
“What did you do?!” June was practically shouting, eyes wide.
“I didn’t do anything, Chelsea added flour and yeast to the dough, and Pilts thought it was me trying to poison her.” I felt like crying, but the tears just wouldn’t come.
“Chelsea…that bitchh”
I dumped my gardening tools out of my small brown leather pack and shoved my one pair of fake earrings, my small mirror and other two outfits into it, they’d be covered in dirt now but I couldn’t find the energy to care. June just stood there in silence and watched as all my worldly possessions went into the one tiny satchel.
Part of rookery confinement was that you didn’t see anyone else for the entire time, your meals were brought to your door and left there, your chamber pot you placed outside before bed and in the morning it was empty. Usually rookery confinement was only given for a week at most, a month was unheard of.
I shouldered my pack, and my vision blurred with tears, without looking at June I ran all the way to the top of the tower. Gasping for breath I sank to the ground and lay there. I had all the time I needed.
Once I sufficiently pulled myself together I decided to spend the rest of the day setting up a sleeping area as best I could. I took hay from the storeroom and made myself a thick mattress like square. I fed the pigeons and lay on my improvised pallet, trying to ignore the itch until supper arrived.
Supper was the usual bland bread, green beans, a cob of corn and a small bowl of diluted, over-salty beef stew. After supper I decided that I would leave the scrubbing for today, as I had a month to do it, and went straight to bed.
Red eyed and exhausted after a sleepless, itch filled night; I ate breakfast and scrubbed the floor of the tower, in every room, until it was spotless. Lunch was leftover stale jam scones. I spent the rest of that day and that night trying to sleep and once again, failed.
What is wrong with me, why won’t my back stop itching?
It felt like I had miniature, extremely prickly, hedgehogs crawling around between my shoulder-blades. I was also ravenously hungry. I snuck downstairs into the kitchen, which was at the bottom of the tower staircase, during gardening which was first period that day, and filled my pack with bread, cheese, fruit, nuts and a large flask of water.
Once back up in the rookery I devoured my plunder, all of it. I’d never eaten so much in a single sitting in my life and yet I was only barely sated. While I was pondering this, my exhaustion caught up with me and I finally slept. When I awoke the sun hadn’t moved positions in the sky, yet the tiny blurred figures below were doing fencing behind the stables rather than working in the gardens, or doing etiquette classes as they should have been. At least I assumed they were fencing, with my eyesight It was hard to tell. There were four trays outside my door which to my own amazement I ate, and was still hungry. I had slept for an entire day. As I crept down the stairs to the kitchen, I noticed my back had stopped itching, but, was now burning as though I had two tiny volcanoes in the middle of my upper back. I peered through the door. Hans, the cook was searching around for something. Brow creasing he began muttering loudly to himself.
“…..blasted Terry, ran off with my carving knife again the old crotchety bas-….”
Hans left the kitchen through the back entrance walking in the direction of the groundskeeper, Terry’s, cottage.
I took the opportunity to relieve Hans of some more bread and cheese, refill the flask and rush out of the kitchen back to the rookery before I was seen.
Five minutes later I found myself licking my fingers, five minutes after that, I was once again asleep on my makeshift pallet.
Searing pain shot through my back. Fireworks exploding underneath my skin, flames rushing through my body. Pure electric agony ripped through my back, burning white hot. I could feel the skin between my shoulder blades splitting open like fabric under too much strain. I tried to scream but all that emitted from my throat was a tortured squeak. As I scrambled unsteadily to my feet, the burning in my back multiplied tenfold sending me face first into the blood tinged hay beneath me. The volcano’s were now filled with angry hornets which ripped my back open further, exposing muscle and bone to the chilly mid afternoon air. I lay writhing on the ground for what must have been hours until, slowly, much too slowly, the volcano’s quieted a bit and the hornets went away. Panting I tried to stand, and found that I didn’t even have the strength to get to my knees. After five minutes or so I managed to use one of the roof support columns to get to my feet. I retrieved my small mirror and angled it behind me revealing a small portion of my back.
It was not a pretty sight.
My blouse was ripped open and covered in blood that was in various stages of coagulation.
What the hell?!
Two stumps of blood covered bone protruded from my upper back, directly between my shoulder blades.
I couldn’t go downstairs like this, I’d be laughed at, mocked, kicked out of the orphanage, or worse, sold to a travelling fair or something.
I’m panicking. In shock. Take deep breaths and think slowly. One thing at a time.
After a few minutes of heavy breathing I cleaned my blouse as best I could and was feeling slightly better.
I was famished, so I turned the brass door handle to the tower staircase and was greeted by the smell of rotting food. Eight separate platters of food were laid out in front of my door.
I slept for almost three days!?
That explained my abnormal hunger.
I have seriousss problems.
Gathering the most recent food trays I brought them inside with me. My pallet had bloody spots all over it so I sat on the floor. Pigeons dove for my food squawking and savagely attacking the platters. Grabbing them I stumbled towards the store room and fell straight through the door. My balance had gone haywire. I shut the slightly buckled door behind me. What was up with the birds? They’re even hungrier than I am. That’s when I realized they hadn’t been fed for three days either.
I ate all three platters I had brought with me then went sheepishly too feed the pigeons.
I couldn’t lift the sack of bird seed in my current state so I dragged it into the rookery and used my mirror’s corner to puncture the bag. The pigeons attacked the bag viciously, ripping at it with talons and beaks like maddened beasts. I got halfway through creating a fresh, unsoiled pallet for the next two weeks of rookery confinement before I passed out.
The first morning, which turned out to be two days later, the stubs were covered with pockmarked skin, and had widen into tough, sinewy masses.
The second morning , which was actually four days later, they had grown into three foot long, the weight of which, with my depleted strength, I couldn’t even stand. Tiny stalk-like bristles had begun to grow from the new skin, replacing the pockmarks.
The third morning, or, eight days later, I woke so tired and hungry; it was if I hadn’t slept at all, my energy already consumed. I figured it had gone into the growth of my new wings.
“Hah, wings? I must be dreaming” Hysterical tones underlying the forced calm in my voice.
Or crazy, after all only crazy people talk to themselves.
Thank you for reading i hope you enjoyed it. Any comments will be greatly appreciated.
This is one of three different versions, all where the start is the same but something else happens to her. If you liked this version and would like to see the alternates PM me
P.S: Please exscuse the random indentation. It was not intentional and is a by-product of my copy-paste from my old version of Microsoft Word.
