003 : Jane

At twelve years and seven months, Jane had already developed the reckless insouciance of someone of thirteen. She cared for very little, talked entirely too much, and as of late had developed a fondness for trouble making. It was this fondness that had sent her careening through the grey streets of London, smog and buildings hanging overhead. This fondness that caused the resident baker, prize rolling pin in tow, to be chasing after her. And this fondness that in her mad dash for escape, caused her to miss the open manhole. The stolen pastries sent flying as she tumbled in headfirst, her wild laughter quickly turning to screams as she was swallowed by the darkness.

Plunging headfirst into a torrent of water may have been the waking dream of an aspiring swimmer. Unfortunately, an aspiring swimmer, Jane was not. She was barely even a swimmer really, only managing the worst of dogpaddles during her infrequent trips to the seaside. Thrown around by the fast moving waters, Jane fought to stay afloat. Her attempts yielded little but wet splutters, as she coughed out more water then breathed in mouthfuls of air. Eyes shut and lungs aching, she was cast around like a ragdoll; juggled by the deluge. And at twelve years and seven months, Jane learnt of real fear.

Crawling up the small flight of stairs that had provided an abrupt end to her waterlogged travels, Jane ignored the pain blossoming in her ribs from their meeting with the concrete. Sprawled on the narrow walkway of the sewer, the ground cool to her cheek; the water's rush was a lullaby as sodden and exhausted, Jane fell asleep.

Jane woke to quiet, all traces of the water's lullaby gone. Rubbing the grit from her eyes and mouth, she looked at the water, its flow now no more ferocious then that of a stream. The sewer stretched further than she could see, the water shining onto the smooth walls; casting the place in an eerie green light. Now Jane had always been full of impulse rather than ideas, but as well as knowing her left from her right and how to do long division, she knew the proper colour for sewage, and it certainly was not an appealing shade of pale apple green. The colour played along the walls, their shabby grey no different from the decaying haunts of London; as if the world above had stained through.

Jane had been walking along the narrow ledge for over an hour, but felt like she hadn't moved anywhere at all. The sewer seemed endless, a labyrinth of miles and miles of curved roof and glowing green river. She watched her feet try to eat up the distance, in what seemed like Sisyphean task. She raised her head, and stopped. Figures, they wavered on the edge of her vision. Bemused, she couldn't be sure they were real. Bringing with them a hum that lingered at the back of her head, and then slowly crept forward; consuming her. Like a swarm of bees, the sound was enveloping, beginning from nowhere and everywhere at once. The figures loomed closer, and Jane felt paralysed; a deer caught in the headlights. They pulled level, a procession of skeletal bodies that was at odds with their easy grace, languidly they turned and faced her. Jane felt their stares and fought not to cringe. She was brave, she was a trouble maker and 'til today had never felt fear.

The smallest, the youngest, the one whose eyes were glazed over as if they had seen ages, spoke in a whisper

"You are lost. You need us. And we need you."

He raised a knotted pale hand, and for the first time Jane was speechless.

Updated every three days. Riiiiiiiight.


Anywho, this was for one of my classes, and I figured why the hell not *uploads*.

Oh, and I have something I've been messing around with for quite a while, so expect the next update to be an EPIC.

...When it happens, that is.

Next write time: 83492704728093470289374 days seems about accurate.