Defiant (Camp NaNoWriMo April 2014)

1: Shadows

As the last of the day’s light leaves the sky, and I’m left in almost darkness, a shadow figure creeps into my line of vision. I have my back to them, but their reflection is crystal clear in my dressing table mirror. When I notice this change I try not to react. This is the third shadow that’s snuck into my bedroom this week and their purpose is still a mystery. I want to know what they’re after.

     It seems especially odd that these shadows don’t seem fazed by the fact that they’re not alone in the room. It would be more intelligent to break into an empty room. This leads me to believe that whatever this person is after must be of great importance.

     The shadow keeps to the dark edges of the room and I pretend to be hard at work at my crafting desk. With a sigh of defeat I drop my tools and pick up my design to go over it again. The shadow tiptoes over to the fireplace and silently lifts the vase that’s sat on it. With the knowledge that the vase is worthless I decide that this shadow isn’t a very good thief at all.

     I pull my knife out of my boot. It’s kept there purely for self-defence in this dangerous city. Now that the shadow has its back to me I have been given the perfect opportunity. I move silently across the floor. Having lived in this house my whole life, I know where every creaky floorboard is. My feet don’t make a sound.

     “Don’t come any closer,” speaks the shadow and I almost jump out of my skin. Their voice doesn’t sound real, as though they’re using some form of voice changing device to conceal their identity, but beneath the fuzziness I think the voice is female. The figure turns and I almost take a step backwards but stop myself from doing so because I don’t want them to know that I’m afraid.

     “What do you want?” I try to sound brave and commanding but my shaky voice gives me away.

     “Do you value your life?” I don’t answer the question. “If you do then you’ll stop talking and allow me to leave, pretending as though this never happened.”

     “So that’s it? You break into my home, study a vase and then decide that there’s nothing here worth your time just because I’ve seen you? A real thief wouldn’t be scared of getting caught. They’d threaten or harm the person who found them and then still get away with plenty of riches.”

     Fuelled by the desire to know the truth I’m no longer scared of this shadow. I took a step closer as I spoke, my knife concealed behind the skirt of my dress.

     “Maybe I’m not a thief then?” she replies before diving for the window. I try to catch hold of her to prevent her from getting away so easily but she slips straight though my grasp like a ghost. My knife scraps her leg in the process, tearing the tight dark material and scratching her skin until a thin line of red appears. Then she’s gone.

     I wander back over to my crafting desk and collapse on a stool. On the table sits a typewriter and a telephone that I had taken to pieces the night before. It took a lot of persuading to get my mother to agree to the destruction of such valuable items but I managed to convince her that it’ll all be worth it in the end when I’m awarded for my new invention on Inventing Day. So far it’s not going very well though. When I first drafted up my idea it had been a little ambitious but now it’s just getting out of hand. There’s no way that I’ll be able to invent the voice-controlled typewriter in a matter of days, especially with the limited materials I’ve been allowed.

     There’s a knock on the door and I tell the person to enter. In walks Betty whose chin drops in shock when she sees me still seated at my crafting desk.

     “Your mother is growing impatient, milady. You were supposed to be ready for the ball over an hour ago. The guests are beginning to wonder where you are.”