Post by Deleted on Jun 13, 2017 14:12:45 GMT -6
It had all started by the mysterious forces of chance. As a fifteen year old teenager, Alexandria made her living usually by performing bad tasks for even worse men. Not bad men, they were mostly nice to her, unless they were sometimes unhappy about the information they'd received. She thought about it a lot, how they'd met.
The night was cold and, well... dark. Darker than most, at least. The only light she had been able to seen at that time, a critical time for her most of the days, was the illuminated windows of the cafe across the street. She had decided to camp on that sidewalk, that night, pulling the old coat across her chest as if it was going to grow warmer by stretching it. It was a dark street and a good place to lay low. That was before she got startled by the rushed redhead that almost jumped out her door to cross the quiet street. She didn't think the young woman had noticed the small figured crumpled over herself right next to the old door, which made it easier to use her as that night's entertainment. That would end up to be a problem for Alexandria, but that part she didn't like to remember as much. She should have been watching someone else, someone who would give her actual money for spending her night out in the cold watching some old man get into fights. But the girl peeked her interest.
It was a busy night at the Cafe, but not even that stopped the waitress from glancing at her house door every five seconds. At first, Alex thought she might be checking if the teenager was not trying to break into her home, but soon she realized her presence was truly unnoticed. It wasn't until the break of dawn, when her humid snow white hair started glinting in the first sunlight that their eyes finally crossed and the funniest conversation about guard dogs and guard girls ensued.
But that was the funny conversation that got her a hot meal. She'd found out the woman, Annie Hughes, was the proud mamma of a sweet boy that was, at the moment, curled up in his corner of the bed and quietly listening to Alexandria's heated bedtime story.
Turns out the redhead kept glancing over at her unsupervised son, and was happy to her the unsupervised teenager was more than glad to spend a few hours in the warmth of the Hughes' household in exchange for babysitting services.
And that agreement had been working out just fine for both of them.
Now, a couple of months after the meeting took place, Alex had been teaching the young lad a few tricks to scare the bullies off at school, someday. "Rich boys can be mean." she'd told him. "But rich boys are scaredy cats. They have it too easy." So she'd occupied their time with teaching little Harry how to give them a hard time.
Everyone who knew her for a while knew she had a natural talent for performance, specially when said performance had anything to do with the recently famous arts of Voodooism. It was easy to scare people with a few words. Specially if they didn't know what the words meant. And she quickly found the young child was easily entertained with Ewe, her mother tongue, which had no similarity to English and could quickly be mistaken by mumbo-jumbo. She taught him easy sentences like how he could ask for a glass of water, someone's name or what time it was. She got a few laughs and giggles out of the kid, which made her a little happy, she couldn't lie.
And that was how they were spending one more night. Repeating the same strange sentence over and over, faster until it rolled out of Harry's tongue as easily as his English, sounding like a couple of baboons saying gibberish in the dark, while his mother was responsible for drunks and beggars.
The night was cold and, well... dark. Darker than most, at least. The only light she had been able to seen at that time, a critical time for her most of the days, was the illuminated windows of the cafe across the street. She had decided to camp on that sidewalk, that night, pulling the old coat across her chest as if it was going to grow warmer by stretching it. It was a dark street and a good place to lay low. That was before she got startled by the rushed redhead that almost jumped out her door to cross the quiet street. She didn't think the young woman had noticed the small figured crumpled over herself right next to the old door, which made it easier to use her as that night's entertainment. That would end up to be a problem for Alexandria, but that part she didn't like to remember as much. She should have been watching someone else, someone who would give her actual money for spending her night out in the cold watching some old man get into fights. But the girl peeked her interest.
It was a busy night at the Cafe, but not even that stopped the waitress from glancing at her house door every five seconds. At first, Alex thought she might be checking if the teenager was not trying to break into her home, but soon she realized her presence was truly unnoticed. It wasn't until the break of dawn, when her humid snow white hair started glinting in the first sunlight that their eyes finally crossed and the funniest conversation about guard dogs and guard girls ensued.
But that was the funny conversation that got her a hot meal. She'd found out the woman, Annie Hughes, was the proud mamma of a sweet boy that was, at the moment, curled up in his corner of the bed and quietly listening to Alexandria's heated bedtime story.
Turns out the redhead kept glancing over at her unsupervised son, and was happy to her the unsupervised teenager was more than glad to spend a few hours in the warmth of the Hughes' household in exchange for babysitting services.
And that agreement had been working out just fine for both of them.
Now, a couple of months after the meeting took place, Alex had been teaching the young lad a few tricks to scare the bullies off at school, someday. "Rich boys can be mean." she'd told him. "But rich boys are scaredy cats. They have it too easy." So she'd occupied their time with teaching little Harry how to give them a hard time.
Everyone who knew her for a while knew she had a natural talent for performance, specially when said performance had anything to do with the recently famous arts of Voodooism. It was easy to scare people with a few words. Specially if they didn't know what the words meant. And she quickly found the young child was easily entertained with Ewe, her mother tongue, which had no similarity to English and could quickly be mistaken by mumbo-jumbo. She taught him easy sentences like how he could ask for a glass of water, someone's name or what time it was. She got a few laughs and giggles out of the kid, which made her a little happy, she couldn't lie.
And that was how they were spending one more night. Repeating the same strange sentence over and over, faster until it rolled out of Harry's tongue as easily as his English, sounding like a couple of baboons saying gibberish in the dark, while his mother was responsible for drunks and beggars.