Chatterbox: Inkwell

I wrote a story!

Well, I had nothing to do and was feeling NaNo writer's block, so I decided to go write a super short story. I just went with whatever I was writing, and it became a...sci-fi holiday story?? Idk. Anyway thought I'd share it because I'm bored :D.

Trixie stood in the cold, wringing her hands. It was doing nothing. She glared furtively at the frozen ground, her boots sliding on the ice.

The snow crunched loudly, ringing her cold red ears. The hoverbus had landed. It was rusty silver with tinted windows.

The door slid open. The driver, a tired man, accepted her ticket without a second glance. Everyone on the weary old hoverbus looked tired, in fact. Trixie blew on her hands, hoping her breath would warm her hands.

She sat on the old cushions, watching the world drop as the bus flew up. Trixie looked away. She hated heights. Her stomach was flopping. 

Soon, the glass just became a reflection. Trixie watched herself in it—amber eyes, auburn hair in a messy ponytail. Too young to be independent, too old to be dependent. Almost sickly pale, like the ones in the infirmary. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, and her eyes heavy where she hadn’t slept enough.

Her stop wasn’t coming quickly enough. The bus was warmer than the winter scene outside, but not warm enough. Trixie could see other hoverbuses fly by them, just as dilapidated. This was a neglected part of the city. It would stay that way, Trixie could tell.

The bus landed. Trixie had to gasp for breath. Though the outside air stung worse than a thousand wasps, the cold helped the unstableness of her stomach. She sucked it in, though she swore icicles were forming on her nose.

This part of the city was a little happier. Golden lights flickered on and off, reminding Trixie of years ago when her happy family lived in the rich part of town. Before the war.

Trixie was about to step forward, then paused. She wasn’t sure why until she looked down.

A perfect lavender crocus was flourishing in the grimy snow. Trixie let out a little gasp. It was the most perfect thing she’d seen all day. All week. All year.

Her hand reached out to pluck it, then pulled back in disgust.

Disgust at herself. Why would she do such a thing? It was so beautiful. No human deserved its beauty. She hadn’t seen a flower that wasn’t half-dead for years. Nothing growing.

Her comm-watch beeped, and a holographic message from Sabrina appeared. She couldn’t help smiling. Trixie hadn’t seen her sister in over half a year.

Twenty minutes away! Be there soon! <3

She paused, wanting to take a picture of the flower, but also wanting to see her sister as soon as possible. Eventually she left the crocus behind and quickened her pace.

Old lamps lit the street. The occasional hoverboard rider zipped through the street, but as the winter day turned to night, the streets were empty. It was as quiet as a cemetery.

Trixie imagined this street, years ago, looking beautiful. Holiday lights, carolers, fur coats. Even further back in time, she imagined horse-drawn carriages with jingling bells and smiled even though all that was left was flickering bulbs and gray snow.

She hummed a carol to herself, one she had heard long ago, just before the war, curled up by the fire with her family.

Golden bells 

Green boughs of pine

As time tells

You’re always mine

It’s safe here

Plum cake and pie

Come my dear

You’re always mine

She wasn’t even sure when she had heard it, but the melody felt like a warm blanket, perhaps a thick, fluffy one like the ones that used to be wrapped around her shoulders in the winter.

Not anymore. Her hand automatically went to the scar on her waist, where the bullet had hit. She jerked it away and focused on the song she had been humming.

Gentle snow

Silk so fine

Stinging cold

You’re always mine

She had forgotten the rest. Her ears were starting to practically freeze, and she had no hat. All her money had gone to the thick, warm coat, which was doing a decent job of keeping her warm. So, she pulled the twine out of her hair and let the ponytail fall loose, her reddish locks falling over her ears.

She shoved her hands as deep as they could go in her pockets.

“Golden bells...”

Trixie yanked her head up. A girl with a melodious voice, bundled in torn blankets, was singing. Her voice was like hot chocolate going down your throat on a day as cold as this one. She looked up at Trixie, and Trixie found herself doing something unexpected.

Golden bells

Green boughs of pine

As time tells

You’re always mine.

She was singing.

It’s safe here

Plum cake and pie

Come my dear

You’re always mine

Gentle snow

Silk so fine

Stinging cold

You’re always mine

The girl sang the last verse, which Trixie did not know.

Memories

Drift away

The things we save

Gone today.

The song ended on a haunting, sad note, and the two girls paused for a moment, the silence like a sound.

Trixie noticed the overturned old top hat at the girl’s feet. She felt a pang of sadness. She thought she had next to nothing...but it was this girl, singing in the cold for money, all alone, that had next to nothing.

“I...” Trixie wasn’t sure what to say. “Your voice is beautiful. But I have nothing to give.”

The girl nodded, like she understood and had heard it a million times. She probably had. Trixie felt guilt in the pit of her stomach, rising like bile. She looked ahead to the worn little apartment, lit up from inside.

“Actually, I do have something.”

An hour later, they were inside the warm house. Trixie’s mother had gladly welcomed the girl. She looked around the table, at the small but still enough bits of food on the plates.

Sabrina hugged Trixie so hard, and her mom joined the hug.

“I missed you so much, it hurt. I was so scared. You have to tell us everything about being in the army.”

“I will,” Trixie promised. “But this girl is starving and, I am too. Let’s eat first.”

“I love you.” 

Theeee end. It's unedited so yeah. Bee out!