It's been A Bad Day

By Andrea Miccaver

Made for the OWG's April '007 challenge with an object and color prompt as well as the rule: Can't have a happy ending. Also used as the first chapter in the EdmoWriMo Underground's Never Ending Story.

The sleet bounced off of every surface and Sarah grimaced. The classic beginning for a story should be "it was a gray and sleeting day" not "dark and stormy night". Sleet was worse than rain any time, and besides, if it was day, that meant you had to continue to conduct your business in the horrible weather.

Sarah ducked back under the cover of the subway entrance and counted to three. At three she decided to start over and count to five. Surely by five she would have enough courage to brave the elements? When she was on four, a man bumped into her and she lost her footing, careening into the half frozen precipitation with a shriek. Oh yes, she thought as sharp needles fell onto her face, this is much worse than mere rain. She held her hand up to protect her eyes and squinted at the lights around the bus terminal. There were three--no, four, buses already waiting. Adjusting her grip on her black bag, she hurridly made her way to the set of lights that waited at her usual bus stop. It seemed to be getting further away though. Yup, it was definitely moving. Sarah glared at the clock which said she was supposed to have another three minutes and started running toward the departing bus. Suddenly she was a lot lighter and it took her a whole six steps to realize why. My bag!

She looked behind her and sure enough, there it was lying in a puddle and getting covered in beads of clinging ice. Cursing, and with little hope of catching her bus now, she ran back. The strap was lying half on the sidewalk, half on the street clearly broken. Sarah bent down to pick up the bag by it's now useless strap, wrapped it around her hands and swung it over her shoulder. The bag knocked into her purse and down her purse fell to land in the very same puddle.

Seconds passed as she stared in disbelief. The purse strap was lying half on the sidewalk, half on the street, clearly broken as well. However, there was a difference. A gaping hole in her purse had left a trail of her accessories leading toward her bus stop. Squeezing her eyes shut, she silently begged the universe to grow up and leave her alone for once.

Emptying what was left inside of her purse into her bag, she then followed the trail of money, gum, and chapstick she had left. Sighing, she pushed her soggy hair out of her eyes and glanced at her bus. Miraculously, it was still there. Relief washed through her, quickly followed by panic as the bus slowly started moving again. The bus terminal clock confirmed that she had used up what time had remained.

Technically she could walk home from here. She just didn't want to. In nice weather, an eleven block walk could be pleasurable. Today was definitely not one of those days. Her other option was to wait an hour for the next bus. Sarah looked at the packed shelter and shook her head. No way was she going in there.

As she passed a garbage can, she tossed her purse into it and kept walking. Her skin was numb, but this wasn't altogether a bad thing. And I was going to get a new purse anyway. So really, the whole stupid experience had given her a great excuse to splurge. Comforting herself with visions of candy red netting and shiny patent leather, she even managed a small smile.

The smile didn't go unnoticed. On the other side of the street, hiding in a muddy ditch from things more dangerous than a shoot out on Boil Street, he watched the woman pass by and for the first time in days felt hope. She was the first being in this miserly town who had smiled, and while he couldn't understand the smile, surely it was a sign?

Not like I'll lose much anyway. Just his life—and really, who was that important to? Not a soul on this Earth, that was for sure.

He put both both of his hands—totaling fourteen fingers between them—on the sidewalk and pulled himself out of the ditch. If you don't take a risk, you can't be said to fail, but you can't exactly be said to win either. In this game he'd gotten caught up in, winning was all that mattered. Gilaran had made sure of that.

The candy red nets had morphed into boots of the most extraordinary kind in Sarah's head. That was the great thing about imagination. It could turn even the simplest thing into something of extreme complication. Take that rock across the street. Her mind was already turning it into a being with more limbs than anyone could possibly need, three beautiful green eyes, and a nose the size of Texas—or a tennis ball at the very least. The being her mind had created pulled itself completely onto the sidewalk and started crossing the street, leaving huge muddy tracks that the sleet was having trouble cleaning. That's when Sarah calmly decided running wouldn't be uncalled for. Or screaming. Yes, that worked.

The creature slapped his hands over his ears with a wet splat as she let out a scream worthy of a banshee. “Stop that. Please!” The creature demanded. When she didn't show any sign of obeying, his eyes went wide and sad in a look of injured pleading that could rival a puppy and in no way lost any effect for there being three eyes instead of the more common—and thus more acceptable—two.

Without even thinking about it, Sarah did stop.

“Thank you,” the being said politely, delicately picking a blade of muddy grass off of his shoulder. “It's been a hard day for everyone I think.” Silently she nodded and encouraged, the creature continued. “As you may have suspected, I'm not from here, and not particularly glad to be dumped on your—I'm sure quite pleasant under normal conditions—planet, but--”

“So you're an alien?” Sarah asked, wondering at what point she had started to believe what she as seeing.

“Um, no. Not exactly.” The creature waved a hand, sending droplets of mud flying. “It' um . . .”

“Complicated?” she guess.

“Yes,” he said in relief. “There's this thing I have to do and I was wondering if maybe--” He stopped and tipped his head to the side. “If maybe you would, um--”

There was a screeching of tires nearby. Alarmed, Sarah looked up and instinctively stepped backward as a car came fishtailing around the corner right toward them. Obviously not having such instincts, the creature only stood there.

The splat this time was louder. Opening her eyes, Sarah felt another scream build up when she saw giant feet and tiny ankles sticking out from under the car's back tire. The legs slowly melted away, turning into sludge that matched the mud perfectly.

And so the creature that may or may not have been from her mind died, his favor forever unasked.

That . . . sucks, she finally concluded.