Haven’t written a story in a long while now. This idea has been playing around in my head for quite some time and so decided to make this into a serialisation. Will be updating the story at least once a week – hoping to do some justice to the ideas in my head.
She slogged all the way through the streets, going in and out of alleyways, finding some sort of shelter, some sort of building that would provide her the respite needed from the rain and the alleyway rats. Not that rodents troubled her though – she had a soft spot for furry creatures.
But these rats were not furry at all – these rats were the kind with hands instead of paws, the kind that lusted over her flesh rather than looking for morsels of food from her. They made her blood freeze and her body frozen with fear – they were her kind, humans, yet not so human inside.
Her pale, pink succulent flesh made their saliva pool, exciting them. Her porcelain skin made them drool all over and before she could even speak or squeak, they’d pounce on her like hungry wolves.
She barely managed to escape the last time – and she’s only been on the streets for less than a week by now.
How was she going to survive?
She wasn’t sure where she was – she wasn’t even sure how she got there. Her memory seemed to have deserted her, just as everyone else in her life – if she had anyone else. She can’t remember. All that she remembered was that she had been walking for a long time now, with no destination in mind. Her feet were bleeding, blisters decorating all over, her thinly-soled soaked sneakers squeaking in the rain. They begged her to stop, to give them some time to heal, but she didn’t dare to stop anywhere for too long – the streets had eyes, she was sure of them even if she had no idea if they were looking at her.
If only the rats did not bother her too much – if only they left her alone.
The streets were dark and musky – the alleyways emanated the disgusting stench of stale sweat and urine mixed together with animal droppings. It was horrible enough to make your stomach churn and lurch yet she knew she had no choice.
Walking and living in the dark alleyways was a better option than skulking in the day and having everyone looking at her, with fingers pointing towards her.
She wasn’t sure why they pointed – as she was completely oblivious to how she looked at that moment.
She was sweating through her dark t-shirt – the only one she had been wearing for as long as she remembered. It was sticking onto her body, sweat patches were visible for everyone to see – yet it was soaked all over now in the rain. She smelled as foul as the streets that she had come to call home. She could easily blend in now and no one would notice her – at least, no one that wasn’t from the streets.
As she made her way further into the alleyways towards some dimly-lit sections, she noticed a silhouette of a person standing at the side of the streets.
Experience told her to run, to scamper away like a wounded animal; yet instinct told her to brave onwards.
As she approached the person, she kept her head downwards and kept reminding herself to school her face as to appear neutral.
It was the scent that attracted her attention first, merely seconds before the husky sweet voice called out to her.
“Hey, little girl…”