Belly-dance Assassin

Lia struggled and squirmed through the narrow opening, cursing as her just broadening hips and blooming chest scraped harshly against the rough stone. She could see the end of her comfortable existence masquerading as a boy and earning her way as a sneak thief, entering the homes of the better off and carrying off small items of worth.

Soon she would have to don the garb of women, or risk being stoned to death by irate mobs of bored crowds which thronged the streets from dawn to dark.

The years of constant war had increased the incidents of casual violence, and chronic under employment and desperation had almost daily occurrences of pickpockets cut-purses, pilferers, thugees and looters torn to shreds by instant mobs, incited by a shout of “Thief!” No less could be expected for a cross-dresser of any sort.

The town had changed hands dozens of times in the last hundred years, the crusaders tearing down the mosques, and the faithful burning the cathedrals, both destroying any minor temples of any lesser worship, giving the entire town the aspect of ruin and leading to general atheism, apathy and a waning hope for any sort of divine intercessions.

She finally managed to squeeze out of the high window and slither down the rough straw rope into the shadowy alley which was deserted at this time, the height of the heat of the day with the sun still hours from sinking under the edge of the sky. Giving her rope a deft flick to release the hook, she caught it in one practiced hand to keep the iron from clanging against the cobbles.

Even thought the occupants of the dwelling had been napping in a heat enforced slumber, she hadn’t wanted to risk a thorough search, confining herself to the public areas of the manse, and leaving the closed doors behind which most likely servants and occupants irritably dozed in the summer heat. Even in the eternal shadows of the alley, it was scorching, and would remain so until nearly dawn, when the hot stones would finally cool.

No one stirred, the empty streets offered no cover, so Lia found a hidden nook to while away the time until people would fill in the byways again, providing shelter from the eyes of the curious and malicious. Her take, was hardly worth the effort she had spent, and might afford only a few days of food, once the fence had cheated her- hardly worth the risk of her life, although starvation killed just as surely.

Lia considered her options. If she started wearing women’s clothing, although she would be safe from deadly mobs as long as she comported herself modestly, she would be unable to sell any loot. She could buy, but would have to have money, confined to steal only cash.

Her body was betraying her, forcing her to become a woman, and to be vulnerable to men. Most likely a pimp would catch her and turn her out, first selling her virginity, then using her as bait in a honey-trap, then prostituting her until she was used up and discarded in all too few years which would however seem far too long. She’d seen it happen over and over before.

As an orphan, she had no prospect of a marriage, because there was no dowry. Women were of no value at this time, and couldn’t enter into contracts, so there was no chance of employment. If she had a father or brother, they might find her a place as a servant, more like a slave, but at least she would eat, although she would be used up only slightly less quickly than as a houri.

She grimaced at the irony of her name, Alia, blessed of Allah. Lia didn’t feel very blessed presently, only just alone, friendless, and unable to pass as a boy for very much longer.

Shaking off the feelings of hopelessness, she decided to try for one more score while the hot afternoon held the town in a weary slumber. That new doctor should have something worth taking, and she could probably just slip right in the front door, if she took it slowly. If caught, she could pretend illness, and that she was seeking a consult.

Surrendering to the Galactic Overlords

When the flotilla of alien ships entered the atmosphere without warning it caused a lot of consternation and alarm which very soon gave way to horror and terror when they obliterated all trace of the major population centers, coincidentally removing most of all governmental bodies. No time to mourn, poof, gone. Then our Alien Overlords began to subjugate the rest of us.

To resist was to die. To hide was to be found. There was no escape. I submitted.

Perhaps our Alien Overlords would enjoy having local unglriurgl [mildly convenient biomass].

I quickly demonstrated subservience and train-ability, and learned as much as I could, and as much as I could of what was expected and required, and as much else about our conquerors as I could!

City at the Edge of the World

The City was only known as the City, there was no other. Perched on the edge of the world, astride the powerful and unending flow of the river, named the River- atop of sheer cliffs which fell forever down, or so it was supposed, since eternal clouds obscured the unknown bottom in a sea of white. Scientists with powerful spyglasses had calculated the clouds were a mile below the city, but couldn’t say for certain if there was anything below the clouds but more clouds.

The inhabitants of the City somehow managed to eke out a livelihood from the river, catching everything that came down in strong fine nets, from logs, to fish, to corpses of the drowned, both people and animal.

There were few people of any wealth, only the council, due to graft, and the few Savants, who were honored and supported by tradition and a small tithe. Everyone else either hustled, toiled, or begged for a living, and being a beggar was no easy living in a population so close to the edge, so to speak.

The failures had no safety net, and often the starving hopeless took the long fall. It was said that one might learn to fly, from endlessly falling, but only those without any other recourse ever tried to find out.

Because of the necessities of survival, there was no honor or conscience, only the desire to not get caught. If you got caught, you got the chance to learn how to fly.

Reality Drift

Have you ever remembered things as having happened differently than every one else seems to? Sometimes do you not remember simple things like how the rooms are laid out, or which wall the book case was against? If you don’t just brush it off and anchor yourself again in the current, presented, manifested reality, you might just come adrift. Like a lot of the poor un-housed, lost in their own world of what used to be, now in a now that never was.