Changing of the Tides

[Caira Ayryn]

It could go on for miles and let’s be real, I can barely walk let alone depend on my fragile body to take me there. What was worse, I didn’t know what was the end of the road. It could have been nothing at all. That was a bet I couldn’t take. I hesitated as my walking stick wobbled, before I decided that gravity, in this moment, was stronger.

I plunged, albeit lightly, into the soft cushion of soothingly warm sand. I wondered what day it was, though, for a wayfarer like myself it didn’t quite matter. I wondered what continent I was on, if any human being lived here at all, or if it was deserted, or devastated by the war. Then, suddenly, my eyes widened as I caught scent of smoke. The ocean breeze had pulled it away from the core of the island, of that, I knew for sure, as my hair was blowing the same way, whipping the short brown locks straight into my face with vigor.

Smoke. Real friggin smoke! It smelt like chimney smoke! Civilization! I was saved! I was saved! I was-

A prisoner.

The shackles hung on my wrists marking me as an enemy or slave of the state. I’d be captured and returned, and there was no way I was giving up my freedom, my new life, for anything. I winced, as my latest breath had pinched my lung. Still, I needed medical attention. Most of it I could do myself, as on our long crusades, I’d worked underneath the doctor, quite literally, made to clean up any terrible puss-like muck that was excreted from the ill and wounded men aboard.

Back to reality though, I’d have to wait for nightfall, and swipe what I could, that seemed like the best option. Hopefully I could catch someone’s house who was on vacation, or was vacant. I’d done it before, pirate’s life, remember? I had snuck into an elderly guy’s house while he was sleeping and taken some food, I only ever take what I need, I’m that kind of thief. This time, I just needed some gaus, antibiotic, alcohol to sterilize the wounds, and definitely some food too.

See, if the people saw me, chains and all, they’d assume I was a bad guy, murderer, thief, criminal, well I was a thief but not necessarily by trade, and it wasn’t something I deserved to die for. I’d be considered an enemy of the state, exiled, perhaps even chased and hunted down, and for that, I just hoped I could get it all without being detected. It didn’t look like it was cloudy so I tasted the air for the faintest taste of petrichor but last I could remember it wasn’t monsoon season. I planned to sleep on the beach with a fire, I should be warm enough, I might even nab a blanket or tarp for myself, God willing.

Before I did all that (I was getting ahead of myself) I needed to find the camp or village, and I needed the patience to wait. My stomach grumbled and gnawed at me, rumbling at the scent of fire, so often affiliated with the deliverance of fresh food, it didn’t want to wait any longer, I could’ve been afloat and unconscious for days. It’d been so long since I ate, I was honestly surprised to even be standing, though I was lightheaded and woozy, aching with agony, at least I was over the drowning portion of this adventure.

As though a lasso in my mind had been struck, it occurred to me that the sun was falling too quickly, I needed light to best make my assessment of the village or encampment. I had to go, now. My limbs flopped around, as sore and helpless as fish fins, but I set my mind to the task of first picking up the stick- a battle all its own, my fingers didn’t want to coil around it any longer, and I noticed where the cracked skin had chaffed and began to bleed. Next, I prepared my good leg, propped it up and winced as my angles jousted with the new position, and threw the weight that they couldn’t handle into the wooden cane once more.

“Gahhh, shit,” I muttered hoping to get some sort of release from the pain by cursing as my mouth spat the excess air out. Breathing was tough, and as I left the beach behind me and traversed through a dense part of the forest, I found myself huffing with every step. The dense, muggy air began to overwhelm me, there wasn’t enough oxygen going to my appendages and I could feel the soggy numbness that came with the sensation of drowning. Shaking my head, I resisted it, though, fatigue beckoned me, I would not fall to death here. This was my opportunity to rise once more, I just had to go a little further.

“C’mon body, work with me here, I’m trying to get you better,” I say to myself, a complete whisper, in case there are any villagers around. I stood near the mouth of a pathway, shrub and tree had been cut away and was well maintained. The soil looked as though it was frequently passed over, though I could only get glimpse from the distance, in between leaves and greenage of my own.

The pathway trailed all along, like a road, into a clearing where the forestry was less dense and there was even a breakage in the canopy overhead. Faint twilight trickled in, it was pale gray, and colored the village’s both shackle and grass-made rooftops with a silverish tint. Many chimneys were lit, and houses were lit from within, quickly, my eyes found only one chimney that wasn’t emitting smoke. I went for it.

Creeping around the perimeter of the village, in the shadows smothered by tangling vines that threatened to coil me underfoot, I managed to bat away some of the hanging web-like vines that I wasn’t able to simply pass through. Going through the tropical forest had been rough and it was dark by the time I’d gotten to the far side’s edge. The windows were still vacant, no signs of life passing through, I listened and used my God-gifted powers of thief intuition. To me, now felt like a good shot. I pondered if knocking at the door would ease my trifling pangs of doubt, however I quickly negated that thought, I couldn’t be seen, remember War?

It was here, where every stealth mission took a chance, I’d go in, jiggle the lock and if I couldn’t get it, the window would be smashed. I’d shuffle through it, maybe step my bare foot on their table while watching for tipping over the fine-china, trying to make as little noise as possible. My next goal: Check the shoe-rack, it didn’t hurt that I needed a set, but it was essential to know the type of people who were living in the house. Were they a family? Did they work a blue-collar job or white collar job? Was it a woman raising an only daughter? If they came downstairs, no matter who it is, it could be fatal for me, however, I was good at wiggling out of consequences, even with a pistol’s snout aimed at my nose and it never hurt to know what might just appeal to the trigger finger’s angle.

The mission commenced. My body lurched forward swiftly, I had no way of telling the time but it certainly seemed to be moving quickly, the stars were already sparkling out, and soon the moon would rise. I’d be able to tell how many days had passed on whether it was full, waxing or waning but I certainly didn’t want to be caught in its light. My chains made light jingling noises with every step, I had been forced to drag them, or toss them over my shoulder and out of the way, right now, they were stored over my shoulder, but it didn’t give me much room to fiddle with the lock. To my surprise, it hadn’t been latched.

In fact, not even the sliding door was locked, so I took the simple-thief’s way in, and slowly slid it open, hoping and praying that nothing would squeak because of a lack of oil. Both the windows and the glass door were cut in a spherical, circular shaped hunk of glass, it was kinda futuristic in a contrasting sort of way, that the houses were simple and primitive. More importantly, I was in. I let the door remain open before me, bracing my body and narrowing my eyes with concentration to as not to move or breathe in anyway that would give away that their house door had been opened -if it was inhabited- and then, I took a step and crossed the line inside, venturing beyond the point of no return.

As the distance of the door and my feet increased, I got a quick look around in the house’s shadows. The style was very… Off, but hey, I wasn’t a decorator. I watched to not stub my toe, and I had left my walking stick near the forest. Nothing but my feet could make a sound and I would make sure they wouldn’t get the chance.

The light padding of my raw skin over the flat-wood floor, soundless skimming as I took every hobbled step, but I forced my movements to be fluid and swift. I went to the front door, it was also cut in a circular shape, and made out of what I assumed to be wood. There was no shoe-rack, nor closet, nor mudroom  that housed their shoes or coats, a prickle was starting down my spine, suspicious thoughts littered my mind with every hair that rose. However, I had to focus, my time was limited. Medicine first. Then supplies.

My hunched body crept in the shadows while my eyes adjusted with the dim light, seeking the answers behind every door knob I dared to open. Daring with courage or desperation, it didn’t matter, the doors opened but strange items I couldn’t find use for, there was a tangle of rubber covered rope, maybe they’d made it waterproof, but other things I could barely identify the shape of, sat dormant on shelves, as though waiting for their masters too, to reach them. They almost appeared to be children’s toys, but with extra color and sophistication, yet strangely blank, as though a book that could never open. I couldn’t make sense of it, nor did I have the time.

Finally, one of the closets seemed to have a little of what I was looking for. After grabbing a few sheets of fabric-they were scratchy, like wool, but I wasn’t complaining. I’d use it as bedding and gaus, next the same closet had little vials of liquid, as well as some bottles full of little hardened stones or candies. I couldn’t read the labels in the dark so I opened a few of the caps, some of them had a ghastly smell, one of the many, smelt like rubbing alcohol, and I slipped that one in what was left of my pant’s pocket. I grabbed what I could, what seemed useful, but I couldn’t find tools, not even a needle or thread. Aborigines or indians must have lived here, to be so deprived of the essential! Not even matches! Or, maybe they were just hiding it from me cause they’d known I was coming. Of course, that wasn’t the case, I smirk, they can’t have known, and there wasn’t anyone around. I wouldn’t dare go upstairs though, that was always the greedy thief’s mistake, always going too far. Till he got his neck caught in the gallow’s rope.

I wasn’t going to lie, so far, I was disappointed in my findings, but I hoped finding sustenance for my stomach would distract me enough to finish this break-in and get out. So I wandered back into the only uncharted room left. I smelt… Something. It was tangy, like a fruit, but one I had never smelt before. It was an island, highly likely they had fruit I’d never experienced, but I bet that most of it was edible. I opened one of the wool blankets and shoved everything I could find inside. Round fruits, some spiked, others had skin that was smooth or furry, one was hot to the touch. I hoped to find some meat, but came up empty handed. My best find tonight, raiding this house, was the strange looking wavy steak knife, it would be useful, I placed it in the waistline of my pants just in case I was driven from the village prematurely.

Well, toting the bag now over my shoulder like a rogue, homeless, shoeless Santa Claus, I ran off without my reindeer into the night, making sure to slide their circular door behind me. While I’d left without a trace, and without being detected, I was sure the owner of the house, if they weren’t away, would notice their items gradually missing, or, they’d realize all at once if they’d looked in the closet that held their medicinal vials.

The thrill had given me the strength to heave it all over my shoulder, but I wasn’t sure how long the adrenaline would last. Would I make it back to the beach, or would I collapse in the middle of the woods where the snakes were eagerly slithering and moose-sized spiders ready to bite and jump on me? Of course, that was only my imagination talking, I hoped.