Blaise of the Phoenix Clan
I did it!
I entered a world without magic.
The sun’s relentless rays beat the smile off my face. So bright! Burning my eyes. If I wasn’t a phoenix I would surely burst into flames. How did these beings—humans—stand it?
My eyes slowly adjusted. I saw a field of groomed green grass with well-groomed trees. A path wormed around, lined with benches and odd black—buckets?
A garden perhaps?
Did I exit onto aristocratic property?
But the people didn’t dress extravagantly. As I watched them, a realization bloomed—they were starting at me as if I were an exotic animal. I wasn’t even in my phoenix form!
I looked down at myself. The flame red dress, an official color of the Phoenix Clan, billowed even in the faint breeze because of the light-weight fabric. Compared to the humans, I was the one dressed exotically!
I need to blend in.
I rushed down a path hoping to run into an exit out of the garden without encountering any guards with pesky questions.
Thankfully I found the exit without even seeing the mansion. A plaque by the exit read “Central Park”. I made a mental note to avoid it in the future.
The park opened up into a bustling street. Bustling may be an understatement. The street swarmed with people? Thronged? By the Holy—nothing felt appropriate for the madness of noise and people I walked into.
Oomph. A shoulder knocked into my arm. “Excuse me,” I said receiving only a grunt in return. After being bumped into two more times with barely an apology I realized in this metropolis I was the one impeding progress. Pick a direction. I started moving forward.
I got to the edge of the sidewalk with a stampede of humans as vehicles zoomed on the street at incredible speeds. So this was a world without magic. Surely all these lights and vessels and incredible metal structures were a kind of magic.
A signal must have happened because the vehicles came to a sudden stop and the humans crossed in front of them without harm.
The new street I crossed over to had what appeared to be shops with fake girls displaying clothes and displays of jewelry and sweets.
Ooh, they have chocolate here. My mouth watered at the display. Still the odd stares persisted so I opted for finding a clothing store instead.
A few shops later I spotted a gorgeous emerald gown with a diamond neckline. Perfect.
“Can I help you find anything?” A smiling brunette shopgirl approached me. After eyeing the gown in my hands she asked, “What’s the special occasion?”
Special occasion? I eyed the gown in my hands suspiciously, “Does one need a special occasion to wear this?”
The girl opened her mouth to respond, seemed to think better of it, then opened her mouth again only to close it. “You don’t need a special occasion,” she finally replied. I didn’t fail to notice the strong emphasis on “need”.
I cleared my throat and placed the gown back, before giving the saleslady a wide smile, “What do you recommend?”
The girl looked me up and down, her face visibly twitched at my outfit, then returning my wide smile she motioned her hand, “Right this way.” She brought me to a tiny room with a tiny seat and a curtain to close it off, “I will bring you several outfits to try.”
“Thank you,” I answered genuinely.
Several minutes later the girl brought a pair of restrictive pants which I automatically rejected, a blouse of some thick material and a picture of a unicorn—also rejected. I’m a phoenix; I wouldn’t be caught dead in a unicorn shirt.
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Soon followed a flowing skirt with slits on either side for free movement, the same unfortunate bland blue color as the pants but the skirt had pockets! Followed by a subdued salmon pink shirt made of something akin to silk.
“I guessed your size,” the girl said handing me the clothes.
The clothes fit perfectly. I twirled in front of the mirror, even the salmon shirt didn’t clash with my wild, fire-red hair.
The girl came back, “How did it fit?”
“Perfect, thank you,” I twirled out of the tiny room, “Can I wear it out?”
“Um, yes but you need to pay for it first.”
“No problem,” I pulled out a ruby and handed it to her.
“Huh? What’s this?” The girl’s polite expression curled into disgust.
“A ruby?” Oh no, did they not have gemstones here? Or are they worthless? My smile froze on my face.
“So you have no money,” the girl sighed, “Take the clothes off.”
“But…but…the ruby—“
“I can’t ring up a ruby! Cash, check, credit cards—that I can work with—are you from Mars?”
Did she figure out I’m not human? I leaned close, “Don’t tell anyone, please.”
The girl gave me the most exasperated expression I have ever seen in my life.
“Look, I don’t know if you’re crazy or you really don’t know but rubies can’t be used like cash.” Suddenly the girl’s face lit up, “The only people who deal in gems here are jewelers, maybe if you take it there they can exchange it—yeah.” She nodded to herself, “I will even hold the clothes for you, okay?”
“Wonderful, thank you.” Jewelers, of course.
I changed back into my attire and went back the way I came. I knew I passed several on my way to the shop.
Maricella Darling
I watched the beautiful, crazy woman walk out of the store and sighed in relief. That was exhausting. I looked at the clothes in my hands—she probably won’t come back, right?
Still, better put the clothes behind the register. If the crazy did come back, the less time I had to spend with her the better.
“Ha, ha, that looked painful, Mari,” Jeanette laughed. She was working the register and the woman she was checking out laughed with her. Unable to say anything in front of the customer, I settled for glaring at Jeanette in annoyance.
I glanced at the clock, thirty more minutes till freedom.
Exactly twenty-nine minutes later, the crazy woman with the fiery red hair and the overly bright, flowing gown burst through the doors, smiling triumphantly, cash in hand.
No! My leg paused in midair, literally about to disappear into the back room but I felt those bright, unnatural gold eyes lock on my back.
“I got the money!” The voice like its owner was loud enough to carry across the store. I saw my manager motioning with her head.
Ugh. Of course no one else wanted to deal with her either.
Fine, but I’m not smiling.
“Come to the register, I’ll ring you up then you can use the fitting room to change if you still want to wear it out.”
“Thank you, you’ve been such a great help.”
The genuine excitement in the woman’s voice didn’t make this better or easier.
“Fifty-nine eighty-nine,” I said like a robot.
The woman stared at the money in her hands, hundreds of dollars. Jesus, what kind of ruby did she have?
The woman suddenly leaned in and whispered, “I don’t know what I have.”
I could feel a nervous twitch develop in my left eye, “You can’t read numbers?”
The woman pouted. Pouted! “They look different than where I’m from.”
Numbers are the same everywhere, I almost yelled. Instead I reached over, pulled out a hundred dollar bill and rang her out.
“Out of a hundred. Your change is forty, eleven,” I handed her the bagged clothes, “Follow me to a fitting room.”
“Thank you,” the woman followed.
I held the curtain for her, wished her a wonderful day and walked away. My goodbye was answered with, “May your fire always burn bright.”
I paused, murmured, “Thank you,” and ran to the time clock before anyone could ask anything more of me.
I exited out of the employee only backdoor a few minutes later. Freedom! Today had been unusually torturous but college required money; living on my own required money.
I walked around the building to the main street, wishing I had worn a short-sleeved shirt, it was early May and already hot. As I started to walk to the subway I felt someone following me. I tightened my grip on my purse, too afraid to turn around and sped up my footsteps.
By the subway entrance, they were still behind me. I mustered my courage and glanced back.