Under The Chemical Lights

A train rattled in Shaistrell’s ears, he waited for his house to stop shaking before continuing his drawing. He hated living in the city, train tracks were above almost every house, all of them leading out of the dreadful city of Quatri and yet the people living under them were usually too poor to take them. He got up and walked across his tiny flat, which he shared with his old friend Pellund and a few rats that lived in the walls, and opened his curtains. The Chemi lights were on just outside of his window, giving him enough light to be able to finish his difficult shading of the girl he was drawing. She dark hair, dark eyes, and dark skin. But she wore a white dress that flowed about her as if the slightest breeze could lift it into the air. Coming out of her back were two wings that were every colour imaginable, and in the topmost corner a sun shone. Shaistrell wasn’t completely sure if he drew the sun right, no one had seen it in eighteen years. It disappeared the year he was born, if he was sure of his birth date he’d see if there was any correlation. But his father had left and his mother died so he had no way of knowing. But to think that his birth might have had something to do with the disappearance of the sun was absurd, everyone knew it was simply covered by the great chemical clouds that floated above every great city on the planet.

Shaistrell wrinkled his nose as a draft carried in the smell of sulphur and iron. His hands traced the girl’s wings as they stretched out, he decided that she would be flying.

Click.

Shaistrell started, he heard the locks on the door begin to open and he quickly stuffed the picture into a portfolio and hid it in a compartment in his desk. When Pellund walked in he saw Shaistrell working on a sketch of the cityscape.

“Dude how can you draw that? It’s so depressing.”

Shaistrell began to roll his eyes when he heard a feminine giggle. He turned, Pellund had his arm around a girl, another girl. How he did it Shaistrell would never know. But he guessed it helped to look the way Pellund did. His blond, almost white, hair hung mysteriously in front of his glasses and his pale skin had a few impressive scars that adorned his lithe frame. Impressive, not ugly, but he told every girl a different story on how he got them. Shaistrell knew he wasn’t that bad looking himself, but he was shy, so Pellund always got the girl in the end. In terms of looks they were almost completely opposite, Pellund had light hair, eyes, and skin. But Shaistrell had brown hair, with muddy eyes to match. He was tall and had the build of someone whose body wasn’t sure whether or not they would be skinny, or buff. Shaistrell’s skin prickled as the girl raked her eyes up and down him.

“Ooo you didn’t tell me your roommate was a cutie too!” She giggled, obviously intoxicated, and flipped a red bang out of her eyes. “Can I play with him?”

Ignoring her Shaistrell said; “I draw it because it’s true. If that makes any sense… the cities of this world need to be changed and the people deserve to see the sun again. I hope that one day my drawings can-“

“YAWN!” said Pellund, pretending to yawn like a bad actor. “Hey Shai, can you clear out for a spell? We have uh… our own art to create…” He looked at the girl with hungry eyes, who giggled and leaned against him.

“Whatever.” Said Shaistrell. He picked up his overcoat and walking stick and headed out into the dark evening.

It’s obvious that Shaistrell was too young to carry a walking stick for-well- walking. But like most young men in the city he carried it for protection. Inside of it lay a very sharp, very thin, blade that was perfectly concealed. He carried it because of the death of his mother, killed by a petty thief. He remained convinced since then that if she had just been carrying protection she would have survived. He began training at twelve years old, and he’d been practicing for the six years after that.

He left the rooms he and Pellund owned, they were located in the attic of a very large house. He walked down the six flights of stairs that were originally used as a fire escape and stepped onto the cobblestone road of Webbing Lane. He turned and walked towards the market.

It was dusk and the Chemi lanterns were turned down a bit to give the allusion of sun set; a government ploy to keep the populous from going crazy in an eternal night. He walked towards the busy market, watching for pickpockets and potential thieves. He made his way to the pastry stall owned by Mrs.Figgens.

“Well how is my favourite lad? Hullo Shaistrell.”

“The same, Mrs. F. Can I have an apple pasty please?”

“Pellund’s kicked you out again, hasn’t he? I almost beat that boy with my rolling pin when
he took my Rosa home but she said he treated her well enough.”

“Um, thank you Mrs. F.” Shaistrell said reaching for the pastry, but the old woman kept going.
“And then as soon as she gets to your place, she says, he kicked you out like a temporary boarder! And I says; that’s just not right, no no, Pelly should get a private area for his shenanigans.”

“Mmhm…” mumbled Shaistrell as he put a few pennies on the counter to pay for the food, Mrs. Figgens scooped them up without pause and kept going.

“And you know what she said?”

“No… I don’t Mrs. Figgens… what did she say?”

“She says, well ma, you want to know why he kicks Shai out? Because we have the most fun on his desk!”

Shaistrell sprayed crumbs out of his mouth; he started to cough violently because he inhaled some of the apple pasty.

“What?!” He said, as tears ran down his cheeks “I’m going to kill him!” All my artwork! My pens! My ink! Oh my goodness! He thought. He turned and started to run home, enraged.

He saw and alley and decided to take it as a shortcut, he needed to get Pellund off of his desk as soon as possible!