A feeling rose. Like a silent shudder, a wave of worry washed over her.
The same wave she would feel in a split second, when she lost sight of her younger siblings through the crowded market streets. Worry that sent a chill through her bones and left her body cold.
One evening, with light dissolving fast in the sky, two matónes (thugs) had caught Abia making her way home through purple corner, and dragged her into a side street, stealing the last of her dinero. For all it’s soul, Merolas thrived in crime. For all it’s heart, Merolas bruised its inhabitants with fear. Petty and otherwise. Tariq had warned her to go nowhere alone, but she was cut from stubborn cloth, and so learned the dangers of slums the hard way.
By the time she had scrambled home, a little lighter but without serious injury, the moon beamed bright. Her mother’s fear had bound her to the suns hours, so the same worry arose in her then, a little.
© elenaxtina.com, 2015 in Skies over A Shanty Town