Where Shadows Lie

Mallelia Camilla St. James

14th Street and Park Avenue

New York City, New York

3:59 p.m

I walk through the sea of people, careful not to touch anyone. Sure, I look hella weird sidestepping and dodging the occasional elbow, but I learnt the hard way not to get too close to a human. For their own safety.

In a city like New York, that’s almost fucking impossible. I’ve lived here my entire life, and I love it. Wouldn’t change it for the world. I get high just being around so many people. The feeling... it’s indescribable. Kinda like I feed off the energy.

But then, that’s prolly cause I’m not a hu...

Nvm.

Ion got time for this, honestly. If I don’t get to the apartment on time, Marisol will take that as a perfect opportunity to throw her chancleta at me (cause I look like a fvcking spider, smh.)

I mean, I would fight back, but I have a thing against hurting defenceless humans, and besides, it’s just a slipper.

She’s gonna throw her slipper at me, pull my hair, and tell me how difficult it is to take care of 12 kids. We should be grateful, really, because she took us in when no one wanted us. We should be grateful because she busts her ass working to take care of us, because she loves us.

Yeah.

No.

All this is coming from a woman who makes it a point to tell us that the only reason we’re living with her is for the cheques the government sends.

Like thanks, Blondie, we couldn’t figure that out.

In the sick and twisted black hole known as her mind, we owe her. We owe her everything. No one cares about little shits like us, no one cared before she came along, so she owns us. Crazy.

But fr I gotta get home like, now. If I’m not home before 5, she’s gonna lock the door. That means I won’t get any food to eat, as I’m the one preparing said food. Neither will my sisters, if I’m late.

They’re industrious little chickens, though; they’d be able to steal some candy and soda from Marisol’s room, and I know I can trust the triplets to feed Jordan and take care of the younger ones.

I’d have to go to work at Screw hungry, and when I return from my shift around 12, the door will still be locked.

Ion know what type of guardian would lock her ward out of the house in Highbridge, for crying out loud - but I guess that shows ya how much she cares.

I’m sure you’ve realised by now that everything I’ve said has happened before.

I’m thinking of ways I could crush Marisol and sprinkle her ashes down the toilet, when my dragon sticks his head out of my bag. In public.

Yes, I have a dragon. And yes, he’s bite-sized.

*Giggles in delirium.*

I’m not weird, you are.

It’s not like my baby to risk blowing his cover, especially during the day. His eyes, which are usually the colour of molten lava, are a deep shade of onyx, showing that someone isn’t too happy.

“Melia, I’m hungry.”

Zeiryth is kinda like my spirit guide animal... thingy. He’s absolutely gorgeous. Deep black all over, with the cutest set of horns. They’re poisonous, though, so be careful when you hold him.

And yes, he talks.

He’s always been around, I guess. Holding him was my first memory. I know what you’re about to ask. Can’t your guardian see that you have a pet dragon following you everywhere?

No, she can’t. She can’t see him, because he doesn’t want her to. My sisters can, however.

“I’m talking to you, Melia.” he sneezes and a delicate fireball escapes.

I catch it and watch as it dissolves in my palm. His flame can hurt everyone except me, which comes in handy during allergy season. The downside is I’m the only one who can put his fire out, like at all, so if we ever get separated and he’s in a bad mood...

“I know, I know. We’re almost at the apartment, just hold it in.”

“If you don’t get me food soon, I’ll be snacking on your tote bag. It looks worn out. Prolly the fact that the hag found it behind a dumpster and gave it to you.”

“Um. Rude much? At least I have a bag.”

“Get. Me. Food. And you’re entitled to much, much more than clothes from the Salvation Army and bags found in the trash.”

“Sure, Your Winged Majesty. Whatever you say.”

Ever since I turned 12 he’s been going on and on about how the time is coming, we shall rise, the darkness exists first blah blah blah. I just ignore him, I mean, I don’t have the heart to tell my talking pet dragon that he’s acting weird.

Unknown P.O.V

A nondescript grey van, no number plate, is parked on the side of the street facing traffic.

“Do you have eyes on the target?”

A female, covered from head to toe in oversized clothes exchanges hot dogs for the pieces of paper their kind find so valuable with the impatient queue of humans in front of her. She watches the girl talk to her dragon.

“Affirmative, target acquired.”

A male wearing a pair of tinted glasses plays a tune on his sax. He’s not actually blind, his eyes are just a deep shape of blood red, and he can’t have the humans panicking.

Though looking at their race now, they’d assume he’s wearing contacts. Humans are so blind. He could walk the streets with his fangs on full display and they’d think he’d gotten surgery.

He doesn’t want to risk it though, so he added a walking stick to the outfit back at HQ. He couldn’t add a guide dog to the whole setup, animals hate him, so he had to ask his pùca to shift into one for this particular mission. His pùca, who is staring at a girl talking to her dragon about... a being named Megan Thee Stallion? And her industrial knees?

The girl with the dragon flips a coin into the bowl placed in front of him.

He watches her walk away.

“Target acquired and confirmed.”

The shadow in the van nods once. “Good. Operation 12SJ001 commences as of now.”

************

Hi guys welcome to your world of cringe.

*smiles with extra cringe energy*

I'm sorry, I'm nervous.

Hope you liked it. Drop a comment telling me how you feel, what you think about it and alladat.

Some things I need to clear up, though:

First of all this story is set in New York, and I haven’t even been💀💀 so excuse me if my locations are a bit weird. My dyscalculic ass tried to understand the geography of New York with all its numbers and stuff and said dyscalculic ass failed.

Second, chancleta is Spanish for flip-flops, ‘nvm’ is text abbreviation for the phrase ‘never mind’, and 'fr' is text abbreviation for the phrase 'for real'.

So feel free to correct me if I got anything wrong or ask questions if you don’t understand. Hope you’re having a good one, ILY!

QOTC: What’s your sun sign?

I’m an Aquarius ♒♒♒