Welcome to Gaia! :: View User's Journal | Gaia Journals

Prologue

“Next stop is Tirmont Square,” the speaker droned out as the steam trolley’s door slide shut behind me. As the screeching wheels and bell’s of the trolley filled the empty silence of the early morning, I glanced around. The street’s carried the wandering drunk, the early bird workers and the quiet of the pre-rush. It felt wrong.

Shaking, my hands dithered with my plain bronze spectacles, ordered the stray strands of my brown hair, and straightened my red feather hat before dusting off the invisible dust off my maroon walking dress. Letting out a resigned sigh, I walked across the street to the building. Stately in the morning's cast of gold, yellow, and orange the polished copper frames and window panes glittered warmly.

The brown stone façade seemed to almost greet me as the three clock faces heralded the coming hour. I pulled my smoke holder out of my black purse. My trembling hands barely managed the task, but before I entered the building I managed to release a puff of tension.

Eased, I walked in. Just as I had done every day, I waved to the receptionist and the fellow workers on my way to the lifts. Once on board, I stood to the back watching the others board, waiting. As the life rose, I felt as if the floor had shifted from under me letting me fall through. I took another puff. A few coughed in annoyance, but I ignored them just as I had done every day. The 8th floor was called and we got off.

Chatter and laughter, snickers and sounds of doors closing signaled the end. Calmly, I tossed my smoke into the nearby trash and headed for the stairs. Half a flight down was the door. It was the door that led nowhere; I opened it and stepped through silently. The door’s soft click echoed off the false marble of the hallway floor around the wood paneling and ordinary green painted walls. One door guarded by a potted plant from the Yan’jin isles and a tall trash can was all there was on the floor, outside of the one window.

I won’t lie. I was scared, but I was determined to see it through. It was simple. As I stepped out, the high noon light filtered the panes, lighting the narrow hallway. It had only taken three hours. Simple, but still it left me shaken. I set the black profile case on the ground against the plant, before I took my smoke holder out of my damp purse. My last smoke. Taking out the match book, I light it. As I let out one dark cloud, I tossed my purse, the book of matches and then the light match into the tall trash.

Pulling the smoke away from lips as I picked up the case, a familiar scent snaked through the door. I let my sensible leather clad feet carry me towards the door, I only paused for a second and then I walked through it. I had a ship to catch.