Portals To Another World

The madame of the river

18th century England. London. The Thames ploughed through the metropolis, weaving in and out, houses built around it. The cursed Thames they called it, even more cursed is the Madame who travelled the river. Few people saw her, concealed by mist that vanishes quickly with her.

One night a woman was walking home, searching through her bag for something. She was heading towards the riverside tracks. Only when she glanced up did she see the mist, her breathing instantly becoming rapid and her heart in her throat. Green tinted and creeping around her, the woman flings her bag over her shoulder and begins to speed walk. A rush of water from behind her and she whirls to the banks, now standing there is the Madame of the river. A wide brimmed hat sweeps low over her eyes, water running swiftly down her brown dry robes, as if the water is coming from somewhere even though she now stood on dry ground. Leaning lightly on a wooden stick that is slick with that murky water. Her hat casts a shadow that conceals her eyes but the woman can see the swirls of blue on her skin, lines falling over her nose and accentuating her lips, the curve of her jaw and disappearing under her collar. Mystic and so the intrigue washes over the woman. A faint smile on the Madame's lips. She dares not look away, afraid of the unknown power. Every instinct in her body screams at her to turn, to run. But she grits her teeth and stares into the shadows. She could've sworn something glowed in there, dull yet bright.

The woman blinks, her cheek stinging and her body being flung to the side walk. The Madame had moved as fast as a shadow. Bringing up her stick and slamming into her. She throws up her hands, why is she attacking me, and the stick falls down with unmentionable strength. Slamming into a wall of solid wind, hardened glass like crystal. Why is she protecting me against herself? The Madame breathes against the shield, "you're the one. Come with me now." She pulls away from the woman and her hands drop, a rush of cold air tumbling over her. What was that shield? The Madame's pale hand closes around her wrist, yanking her up and pulling her to the river. The woman tugs and tugs but to no avail, the mystical woman in robes just tugs her over the side and now they're falling. Cold air rippling around her and whispering in her hair.
Then she was standing on a boat, the wooden planks curving up gracefully to a carving of a fox leaping into the water. The cursed Madame of the Thames stands over her, her lips curved down and that blue swirling over the back of her hands.
The quiet lapping of water against the boat and the gentle wind are the only sounds as the woman listens to her racing thoughts on why she had brought her here. After coming up with nothing, she decides to break the misty silence.

"Why did you bring me here?" A blunt sharp question, but being pulled through the night to a boat that people call cursed didn't do much for her patience.

"You are the one who shall break the assumptions."

"What do you mean?" She asks, sitting up.

"People call me cursed. When all I do is travel the currents."

"They say you take people, what you did tonight doesn't exactly prove them wrong." The woman is still shaking, but her voice is strong.

The Madame doesn't move an inch. Doesn't answer or move or breathe for all she can see.