Wordy Wednesday (“The Thief” Excerpt)

So, I’d say summer’s off to a fairly interesting start. My short story “Popcorn” was featured on the Figment homepage yesterday, and I was really excited about that, obviously! 🙂 Also, Camp NaNoWriMo starts in two days, and I’m really excited to get to work on my June novel. I’m not going to tell you what it’s about right now, but I might share an excerpt or two, throughout the month, if it’s going well.

Today’s Wordy Wednesday is the beginning of a novel that I never got around to writing… If I remember correctly, I got to this point a while back, didn’t know how to continue to the next part and didn’t feel like spending the time to figure it out (so I obviously didn’t have a strong enough yearning to write it, or whatever), and I just sort of abandoned the project. I still like what I did write, though.

So yeah. Here’s your Wordy Wednesday. 😛

**********

I’m standing in the middle of the Square with people bustling all around me, shivering despite the July heat, and I have no idea who I am.

This isn’t a normal kind of forgetting, either. Not a simple memory lapse. I legitimately, totally and completely have no idea who I am, to the point that when I catch sight of myself in a man’s glasses, I don’t recognize the hollow eyed girl staring back at me. Is that red hair? Freckles?

Strawberry blond, I realize. Short strawberry blond hair that I cannot for the life of me recognize as my own. But there it is, a part of the girl who must be me. She blinks at the same time as me, winces against the same, hot wind.

And when I shiver, she does so too. But I do not recognize her.

The man with the glasses moves away, so that I lose sight of myself, and as if the fact that I don’t know who I am isn’t disturbing enough, it hits me that I also don’t know how I ended up in the Square.

But the Square… that’s one thing I do know. I recognize this place, although all I remember at the moment is opening my eyes and being here. It’s a largish area with chipping brown paving stones for the street and looming clapboard buildings on all sides, filled with carts and people selling wares from apples to live chickens and everything in between.

There’s a coin in my dress pocket. I pull it out, roll it between my fingers and feel the grooves of it against my skin. Let the cool metal bite into my fingertips.

I step up to the first merchant I see and buy a poppy roll, feeling the need to do something, to look involved in the life going on around me.

It isn’t until I’m stepping away again and taking a bite of my bread that I realize my pocket’s heavy, now, which isn’t right since I just paid the merchant my one and only coin.

When I reach my free hand in, my fingers close around an entire bag of coins.

It’s the man’s earnings for the day. I don’t even remember touching it. I don’t even remember seeing it.

I’m suddenly not hungry. I turn around to return the money, to apologize and say it was a mistake, when something at the back of my mind tells me not to. That it’s a bad idea. And since there’s very little I can remember, I cling to this thought and, instead, shove the little cloth bag as far down in my pocket as it will go.

I’m not worried, for some reason, by my lack of memory. Startled, maybe, but not worried. It’s like some part of me was expecting this. Like I knew this was coming.

So what do I do now that it’s happened? I feel like there must be something I’m supposed to do… but how can I do much of anything, but purchase a poppy roll and walk away, when I don’t even recognize my own reflection?

“What do I do?” I whisper, and I discover that I don’t recognize my own voice, either. How is that possible? How could I possibly forget my own voice?

My pocket’s even heavier now. Hand shaking and still shivering despite the sun baking the Square, I reach in and feel for whatever new object’s added itself. A wallet. There’s a wallet full of money in my pocket, along with the merchant’s earnings.

How are these things getting here? Someone has to be placing them in my dress pocket. The same person as whoever took away my memory.

But then, as I watch, a tall woman with a curling white wig on struts passed me, and my hand snakes out, removes her emerald necklace without her even glancing once in my direction.

**********

… So yeah. That’s where I stopped, haha.

Videos I’m in love with right now:

Ed Sheeran, ridiculous YA books getting made fun of, and Vlogbrothers. What more could you ask for?

~Julia

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2 thoughts on “Wordy Wednesday (“The Thief” Excerpt)

  1. That’s an intriguing story. You should really finish it sometime. Maybe it doesn’t have to be a long novel. Perhaps a short story would suffice.

    Like

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