Mirnah visits a pawnshop with a friend to sell a figurine. She sees a fine bronze statue and somehow….picks it only to find herself in a wasteland, a realm deserted and unlike anything she's ever seen. How did she get in there? Will there be a way out for her?
Mirnah turned at the sound of crunching footsteps from behind. Her vision was a little blurry. A figure wearing a flowing ragged gown drew close to her. She sucked in a breath at the sight of her late mother.
Skin ashen and cracked all over like she was made of clay. Her red hair was dull and unkempt. And her eyes, milky-white with no iris or pupil, were hollow and sunken, making her appear otherworldly. Mirnah called out, uncaring. "Mother!"
The unkempt figure halted, tilting her head to a side, her eyes unfocused as though trying to remember who Mirnah was.
"You vile abomination!" The figure spat, her crooked, withered finger pointed at Mirnah. In a flash, she ran towards Mirnah, raising dust in her wake. Mirnah's eyes bulged from the unexpected aggressive reaction and she took to her heels. The figure caught up with her and began to hit her from all sides like she had ten hands.
"Mother! Stop. It's me, Mirnah," she yelled.
In an instant, the beatings stopped. Mirnah turned, her hands still hovering over her face and saw no one. The wasteland was silent again. Did that just happen or was she hallucinating?
She bent and held her knees for support to catch her breath when two dirty legs appeared in her sight. Mirnah slowly raised her head, her heart pounding, to confront the sight of the unkempt woman. She screamed from the shock and a resounding slap from the woman sent her to the ground.
The woman's face was contorted in a rage, her flaky skin wrinkled and cracked, mirroring the state of the wasteland, her eyes filled with contempt. "You couldn't help yourself. I warned you again and again. Don't do it," the woman rambled, pacing back and forth. "Your fingers are magnetic and your heart is greedy. You had to take 'em!" She screamed in Mirnah's face.
Mirnah's responding yells quickly turned into cries. The woman had vanished again. She knew what her mother, or whoever the hell that was, referred to—her sticky fingers.
Suddenly, her pyjamas changed to grey overalls and the pockets on her hips bulged with some items. Mirnah emptied her pockets. Every item she had ever taken stolen from childhood, knowingly and unknowingly, fell to the ground—tiny silver spoons, fountain pens, brooches, rolled dollar bills, gold rings, silver bracelets, anklets, and so on.
Mirnah liked shiny things.
She began to cry. She often discovered most of the items only after she was home—she had no recollection of picking any of the items. The shame of returning them afterwards made her keep them. The last item to drop out of her pocket was one of the bronze statues.
"No, no, no," Mirnah chanted, staring at the piece in the palm of her hand. A howl followed by a swirling vortex of air, stones and dust surrounded her. Mirnah yelled, her eyes tightly shut and her hands covering her ears from the assault as the statues fell to the ground.
The whirlwind was fierce and angry, spinning and twisting. Then it moved away to spin in front of her, the force of it digging a small hole in the ground while the bronze statue danced inside it. Electric energy crackled and hummed, like lightning, before the whirlwind subsided.
Mirnah slowly peeled her eyes open. Looming over her was a ernomous figure, dressed like a man and hovering in midair, his legs curled in yoga style and the bronze statues held to his chest like a treasured item.
The electric energy crackled around him. His form filled a large part of the wasteland while Mirnah appeared like an ant before him.
[To be continued….]
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