Sparrow followed her uncle Deertooth across the forest and into the gathering place at the foot of the mountains. She was careful not to make any sounds as she followed him through the dense foliage and watched him disappear into the cave.
Inside it, the ground was wet and slippery. Sparrow did not have a torch, so she had to find feel her way in the dim light that grew dimmer the deeper she ventured into the dark.
When her uncle reached the gathering place in a large cavernous space, Sparrow hid behind a smooth rock and watched him start a fire then layout a few items on the ground before the flickering flames.
On the large wall, the painted figures danced in the shadows.
Deertooth stood in front of these drawn figures that he himself had painted on the rock. He sang mysterious words accompanied by whistles and bird calls that echoed shrilly along the various tunnels leading deeper into the mountain.
Sparrow was familiar with the songs because Deertooth and other adults of the group hummed them all the time. She was not allowed to sing them. Not yet in any case. Perhaps not ever. For now, she was content with catching secret glimpses of... what exactly? She did not know. A mystery. A secret world in the unknown.
She watched Deertooth mix a potion with water and various herbs, then after taking a sip, he blew and spat the liquid on the objects he had arranged on the ground.
He picked up a necklace that was made of black feathers, seashells, and shark teeth. Slowly, he put on the adornment and sang an old song with a voice that was strong and true.
He threw the rest of the concoction in the fire and billowing clouds filled the chamber.
Sparrow nearly choked from the steam and smoke, but luckily she suppressed the urge to cough by holding her breath and burying her face in her fur vest. She shut her eyes, which had suddenly begun to water. Blurred her vision while opulent clouds blew all around with the smell of pine and soggy wood.
She thought she heard the sound of ravens; felt herself lifted in the air then slowly returned to the ground to a place she had never seen before.
“Then you admit that these objects belong to you?” said the Arbiter in his deep booming voice.
“I told you they were for a dress,” said the young woman on the stand.
“Answer the question,” said the enraged man with one fist on his palm. “Yes or no!”
“Yes, but-“
“You have here,” said the Arbiter leaning over a crude wooden box as one leans over a coffin, “twenty-one ivory buttons, silk thread from the orient, red and yellow cloth of the finest quality, I may add, pink lace, royal embroidery designs, and many more items that make us all honest folk question their provenance, and by what means a mere farm girl was able to procure them.”
“I just wanted to make a dress,” repeated the girl defensively. “I purchased them with my own savings.”
“Haw! I’m sure you are aware,” said the Arbiter, “of the rules and regulations that forbid girls of your status and station from owning and wearing these items. What social claim have you got to them? Are you a seamstress or an apprentice to one? You are not. Are you the wife of a statesman? You are not. Are you the mistress of a man of means?” Here the Arbiter turned to the assembled audience. “She is not, my good ladies and gentlemen, and she’s not a fool either!” he said in a harsher tone while sweeping his arm toward the girl. “You are a liar and a deceitful thief, aren’t you? These are ill gotten goods, as we have amply demonstrated. I thus ask their graces for the maximum penalty, so that others know that in the kingdom of his Majesty King Sir Aruuk of Nightguard, law, order, and tradition always prevail.”
“Have you anything else to say in your defense, young lady?” said the Magister.
“This is unjust, and this man is a fool!” she said.
The gathered crowd broke into cheers and shouts.
“I will have propriety in these halls of Justice! Propriety!” the Magister rang a loud bell to no avail.
Part of the crowd urged for "just" punishment while others cried out for mercy and clemency. Their shouts echoed in the cavernous halls of the court.
Fists flew in the tumult to the sound of the Magister’s ringing bell.
A chair was thrown against the wall where it shattered into pieces.
The loud crashing sound startled Olivia as she passed by the antiques store and reflexively, she jumped out of the way. In her haste, she had failed to notice a man who had just stepped out of the store across her path.
She bumped against him and caused the wooden box under his arm to fall on the sidewalk with its lid half opened.
Sensing the sudden collision, her security ocular system (SOS) activated automatically and initiated a quick surface scan of the stranger.
The analysis appeared right away on her visual interface as superimposed text and graphics on her view of the scene.
Hair: Recently trimmed. Neat style but imprecise. Likely cut by human hands.
Coat: High quality polymer usually found in outdoor (and military) apparel with water repelling qualities and thermal regulators.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Olivia. “I thought I heard a crashing sound coming from that store.”
Shirt: Breathable material with micro-led mesh for color and pattern shifts. Ideal for casual wear or outdoor activities.
Olivia looked down at the partly opened case.
Pants: Straight leg with water repelling and thermal properties. Hidden extra pockets.
The man leaned down on one knee and snapped the box shut.
“It’s alright,” he said standing up. “I was just on my way to a talk and was carrying a few props.”
Olivia hadn’t registered the contents, except in the vaguest of terms, but her SOS was another matter. The security system recorded everything it saw and only later discarded what wasn't needed.
“Oh, I see,” she said, pausing for a moment, carefully weighing her next words. “It sounds like an interesting topic.”
Socks: Fast drying, moisture repelling, anti-microbial.
The man looked up from his case and blinked as if becoming aware of her for the first time.
Shoes: Black and deceptively formal but made for trekking difficult terrain. Out of place in the city.
“I collect and study old objects,” he said as a way of explanation, “and the stories they tell.”
“Like archeology,” said Olivia.
“Indeed, but with a focus on narrative. My name is Dennis.”
“I’m Olivia,” she said letting him take her hand. “Is your lecture available to the public?” she said a little more boldly.
“Unfortunately, it is not,” he said with a glint in his eyes. “But I can tell you all about it over dinner tomorrow evening, if you would care to join me.”
Case contents: a necklace made of raven feathers, seashells, and shark teeth. 21 buttons. Silk thread. Pink lace, embroidery blueprints and miscellaneous items.
“What about the weekend?” she told him.
“Unfortunately, I have a plane to catch bound for Greece,” he said with an apologetic smile.
“In that case,” said Olivia, aware that she had lost a small battle, “I would love to join you tomorrow evening.”
Security Risk: Low with caveats.
Everyone carries a piece of the puzzle, thought Olivia as she stepped into the air-metro. Nobody knows who will cross our paths and indeed alter the course of our own history. Which was the reason why one had to be highly selective nowadays. After giving him a quick initial glance back at the store, she could tell much about him. Perhaps she didn’t need a security scan to figure him out, but it sure came in handy.
Run a compatability match.
Demographic compatibility: 78%
She held on as the metro rose in the air and began its flight across the city.
Thank you for reading my story. It was inspired by one of the previous prompts: Objects with a past.
I have a hard time reading so much text and then remembering what I read is hopeless. But I like the drawing very much which is inspiring. I have so much material I will try to make a feather necklace. I find a lot of feathers out in nature that I drag home:)
As I read, I couldn't help comparing it to reality, bringing the story to life in each of our lives...
It's as if each of us were a piece of that great puzzle that is the universe.