Sacrifice and Solace

A Short Story

She started down the alley at the back of her home, as she always did. It was the safest route into town and she could meld with the crowd unbothered. Mill workers on their way to the factory moved in an impatient pack. Keeping her arms close to her sides, she weaved between two women ambling towards a merchant selling his wares. On a table were trinkets and gems that sparkled in the midday sun. But Abigail wasn’t interested in them and passed the merchant by. Her mother had told her not to trust merchants.

 “They’ll take copper, paint it yellow and call it gold if they think they can get away with it.”, she’d said. Abigail knew where she was going. Off the edge of town, if you knew where to go, there was an old stone bridge. Enchanted, her young mind had seen a castle before her. Beneath the bridge ran a river. From the day she had permission to leave the house without an escort she sought somewhere to be alone. The bridge had become a second home to her. Now she sought comfort in the familiar proud structure, and the soothing sound of running water on days when she felt alone.

Today was one of those days, but before she could head to the bridge, she had an important errand to run. At the top of town was Odds and Ends, a shop that sold a selection of goods from tea sets to clothes and jewellery. It had been recommended to her by a friend, and after browsing multiple stores, it was her last option. She paused to let a carriage pass, lifting her dress over horse muck to reach the door. As she entered, a bell rang. She was startled to be greeted by a young man. However it was not his age that took her by surprise, it was the shock of white hair that cascaded down his shoulders. She’d never seen such an odd looking man and for a moment she was speechless. Noting her expression, the shopkeeper raised his eyebrows. His mouth quirked in an amused half smile. Abigail felt herself flush as she darted down an isle. She heard her mother's scolding voice in her head.

 “It’s rude to stare, Abbie.” She tugged at the neck of her glove, feeling beads of sweat form under the thin fabric. They were the only fine thing she had left, made of delicate white lace. They had been a gift from her father. Although they stood out against the rest of her now tattered clothes, she refused to take them off. Abigail glanced towards the counter and watched the white haired man. He had his back turned to her and was leafing through a large book. Spotting her chance she swiftly plucked the necklace from its bed and held it tightly gathered in a closed fist. She glanced through the window.

Darkness had crept up on the day. If she was quick she could leave unnoticed and disappear into the night before the necklace was missed. Again she looked at the counter. The shopkeeper had vanished. Hurrying now, she moved to the back of the shop, meaning to escape through the back alley. As she neared the door her heart thumped, seemingly keeping pace with the heavy clomp of her shoes. With the necklace still clutched in her right hand, she pushed the handle down with her left and stopped dead. Instead of an alley her eyes fell upon another room. Inside was the shopkeeper and another man. They sat at a table facing her, their faces lit by candlelight. At first she stood unnoticed. The shopkeeper was focused on the man’s hand which he held with both his own, studying it with fascination. Her own fingers twitched around the necklace. The shopkeeper parted his lips as if to say something but his mouth stayed open too long, and from within that mouth sprouted teeth like sharpened bone, that he sank into the man’s pale hand. 

Abigail felt cold creep through her like an ice cube sliding down her throat. His eyes raised to hers and the man offering his hand blew out the candle. There was the sound of a door opening and closing. In a panic she spun around and there between her and the door was the shopkeeper. Her pulse hammered in her throat as his sharp nailed fingers stroked her collar bone. 

“It’s rude to eavesdrop, you know.” Her head spun at the sound of his soft voice. 

“I believe you have something of mine.” His hand trailed down her arm to her closed fist. She was paralysed as she watched him unfold her fingers to reveal the necklace. It was caught on the lace and hanging like a golden noose. He gently slipped off her glove and pocketed it along with the necklace. 

She shook her head. “I wasn’t-” He chuckled and it was the sound of a baby's silver rattle.

Abigail felt her eyes widen in surprise. 

“No of course you weren't. No one ever is. I watched you take this necklace and now you will pay for it.”

“I don’t have any money.” she whispered. 

He leaned closer until she felt his long hair brush her shoulder. 

“People don’t steal from us, they steal for us, and now you will too.”

She tried to make sense of his words but her thoughts had turned thick, like syrup. She felt strangely calm as he brushed her hair from her shoulders. Sliding his slender fingers behind her head he embraced her. The shop disappeared as his teeth pierced her neck. She sank deeper into darkness and saw herself watching with interest from the bridge. Next to her appeared the man, no longer a shopkeeper, he was dressed in elegant attire. Her other self smiled at her before walking away. The man knelt down and extended his hand towards the water. Part of her wanted to stay in the dark and quiet. But something stirred inside her and she felt her legs kick as she propelled herself towards that hand. She thought of her mother and father. She had watched her old life crumble to dust. Reaching out, she was ready to start a new one.