Dust (Of Dust and Darkness) - By Devon Ashley Page 0,21
lifelessly and not turning to speak to one another. Others are working on our dinner, breaking nutshells and using a mortar and pestle to grind them up. They too work in silence. Tonight’s meal looks like a banana and some peanuts, which is slightly comical to watch them peel, since bananas are as tall as us pixies. I moan internally, wishing we had just a smidgen of pixie dust to make the food a little bigger. The molecular structure of living organisms can only be stretched a little, but in this case, a little goes a long way. How I would love to use the dust on myself and make myself larger than the spriggans themselves, but I know it could never happen. Even if I still had my satchel, the more complicated the molecular structure, the more difficult it is to will the dust to do your bidding. As weak as I am, I’d never get it to work properly. And I’d only be able to grow an inch or two anyway, which would still put me at a disadvantage next to a spriggan.
The pixies begin to segregate to their spots in the pit. Why didn’t they ever speak to one another? It’s bad enough I’m stuck here for the moment, a prisoner in some desolate wasteland. Must I go through this alone even with two dozen pixies by my side?
As if she can read my thoughts, Juniper brings me my dinner. She presses her hand to my forehead to check my temperature and asks, “How are you holding up, dear?”
“I don’t know, Juniper. It’s not right. Us being here. We shouldn’t be prisoners. We’ve done nothing wrong to deserve this. I want to…I want to…I don’t know. I want to go to sleep tonight and wake up tomorrow morning in my tree house and breathe a sigh of relief because it was all just a dream. And rest easy because I know this kind of thing doesn’t happen in the real world. I mean, how did this happen, Juniper? How can all of these pixies go missing and no one comes looking?”
“I don’t know.” Great. As if it were even possible, I think I just made her feel worse. But she lifts her head and curves her lips enough to smile, albeit forced. “Maybe you’ll be the pixie someone comes looking for.”
“It only takes one. Right?”
She pats me softly on the shoulder. “Right.”
I wish I could believe she meant that. Juniper lifts my chin with her finger and says, “Goodnight, Rosalie. I sincerely do hope you wake up in your tree house tomorrow morning and find this was all just a very bad dream.”
“Goodnight, Juniper.”
On my own again, I devour my food in five heaping spoonfuls and fill my stomach with three cups of water. Since I didn’t work the line today, I decide to wait for all the pixies to take their shower first, including Holly, who goes right before me. She offers a small wave and forces a smile as she passes, sweeping the lingering drops off her skin. Now finally my turn, I take my sweet time dumping waves of water onto my head, washing away the sweat and dirt that clings to me.
I choose a spot by the edge overlooking the drop off to make my own and gaze up at the night sky. How can the stars do this to me? Just a few nights ago they performed their show for me from the safety of my Hollow. Now, they twinkle and soar, carrying on above me in rhythmic fashion, like nothing’s different. But I’m not in my Hollow. And I’m certainly not safe.
The next morning I eat my mash, fill my stomach with water and hold my tongue as the spriggan’s sweaty hands remove me from the pit. I fall in line once again and observe my surroundings from the corners of my eyes. Still nothing. No birds, no insects, no signs of life. Feeling defeated, I take one last breath of fresh air before entering the cave and beginning my first (and hopefully last) day of slave labor.
I meet Holly at the back and place my lantern on the table. Two other lanterns are there and I take a peek at the pixie lying against the wall. The darkness makes it difficult, but I believe she’s got a bluish tint to her skin. I jump when a fourth lantern clunks on the table beside me, and I turn to meet the