Past/Side Chapter 1: A Day in the Life of the Unsquashable 'Roach'

Message from the Author 10/31/20:

Happy Halloween, everyone! Just wanted to take a second to thank you all for your support! It really does mean a lot! 

If anyone ever has comments, notes, opinions, or questions, feel free to ask/comment. As long as it isn't a spoiler, I'll likely answer. I'm moderately certain everyone here is aware, but this novel does have a discord you can typically find me inhabiting. We have a special chat for patrons, distinguishing titles, and there is also a place for your questions.

[Discord: https://discord.gg/Bjcgf9E]

Of course, you can just message me on here if you want, whichever works!

Thanks again. The chapter below isn't something that will appear on Royal Road, so enjoy!

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A Day in the Life of the Unsquashable Roach

--POV 9-Year-Old Constance--

In a tattered red gown, I loiter at a big wooden door. On the other side of this door, is a local bakery. The reason I am here is simple, I wish to inhale the essence of the day’s fresh-baked bread. This is something I used to do at a bakery near Cripplegate, but last time the baker swung at me with a rolling pin. So I decided trying to inhale the bread-air of that bakery was not worth it.

Scanning the area for rolling pins, and not finding any, I gather my resolve and lean closer. The wooden step that leads to the door creaks beneath my feet as I move toward the crack in the door jamb.

I sniff. ‘More.’

I look from left to right, making certain that I am alone. Gradually I move my face closer to the door jamb and press my nostrils against the wood.

I sniff twice. ‘...Morrre.’

Glancing behind me, I tilt my head upwards and then position my nostrils for maximum bready air inhalation.

I sniff thrice. ‘......Morrrrrrre!’

Lifting my hand, I place it on the door’s latch and give it the lightest push I can manage. The door makes a tiny groan, so I cease my movements. Standing still, I listen, making certain that I am undetectable.

“Kid! Stop sniffing my door; it's making me uncomfortable!”

My body shivers causing me to accidentally headbutt the door. I throw my hands onto my forehead and start rubbing it vigorously. On reflex, I take a step back only to remember the small step behind me too late. For a moment, it feels as if I am falling from a mountain, but that only lasts a moment because, in reality, the step is only about a palm high. I fall onto my posterior, landing in a puddle. The water muddies my already filthy clothes and body.

The sound of the baker’s applause echoes downwards. “Kid, that was wonderful.”

Brushing my messy red hair from my eyes, my head turns upward. Where I see a large man with graying hair and bulging muscles staring at me from the second-story window while shaking his head.

‘It is the baker; I have been seen!’

However, I freeze upon noticing a slice of bread with a few bites missing held within his clutches.

My eyes lock onto the bread, and like a fish, I open and close my mouth. “I-I…”

He laughs heartily. “Kid, just take the bread. It's a small price to pay for a performance of that quality,” the baker says.

From the window seal, the baker casually tosses the bread toward my disbelieving figure.

‘The fool! He has dropped his bread with a predator below! Nay! Not a predator but a brave and elegant lady!’

Like a dragon spotting a gold coin, my eyes lock onto the flimsy piece of bread. I throw one of my little hands up, ready to receive this gift from the God in Light.

‘This is the moment my life has been leading up to.’

Using every ounce of intellect and coordination I can manage, I position my hand perfectly. I grin in anticipation as I shut my hand tight and cherish the feeling of the warm bread squishing between my fingers.

‘Wait, squishy bread?’

Lowering my palm, I open it, hoping that it is not what I believe it to be. The ungodliness of the sight before me is too much to bear… ‘’It's bird droppings.’

Suddenly, my forehead is struck by a crumbly object, causing me to flinch. I look down, and my vision is drawn toward an eye-watering display of a slice of bread bobbing about in a murky puddle.

From above, the baker sighs. “Could I perhaps follow thou around and record everything that happens? Thy life is a tale more poignant than any tragedian hath written.”

I ignore the baker, snatching the bread from the water. “Thou cannot have it back! It's mine now!” I yell.

Faster than a blink of an eye, I am on my feet and running away. “And do not call me ‘kid’! I am not a goat!” I stick out my tongue and follow it up with a wicked laugh, “Wahaha! Mine!”

To make sure the baker cannot catch me, I run through the back alleys looping to-and-fro[1]. Finally, when I am sure he’s not on my trail, I dive into a sinkhole that exists underneath the foundation of one of the city's woodshops.

Taking one last look around, I rub my hand in the dirt to wipe off the bird droppings and start rapidly consuming the flimsy wet bread—it is not long before the bread has vanished.

I lean against the dirt wall, rubbing my flat belly. “Today shall be a good day, I am certain,” I murmur to myself softly.

Suddenly a most welcome greeting comes from just outside the sinkhole.

“Meow.”

“Sir Mouser! [2] Thou hast come to visit me on my special day!”

Through the sinkhole’s entrance, a scraggly black cat slowly makes its way in. His eyes are as green as the freshest grass and his fur as black as the darkest night. His left ear is torn, and a scar runs across his right eye.

I lean over, dropping low to the ground to bring myself closer to Sir Mouser. “Did thou come to visit because it is my birthday?” I ask with a big grin.

“Mew?”

“How do I know it is my birthday? Well, last year I decided my birthday would be three days after the first leaves fell, and I saw a leaf fall three days ago!”

Sir Mouser's gazes at me with half-closed eyes. “...Mow.”

“Oh! Sir Mouser, didst thou see!” Using my thumb, I pull back my upper lip. “I lost another tooth yesterday! I am nearly a lady! Soon I shall be able to earn monies! Monies can thou imagine such a thing, Sir Mouser!”

“Meow. Meow.”

Giggling, I reach out with the fingers of my right hand to scratch Sir Mouser’s small ears. When I am less than a finger’s length away, I halt. A thick black haze drifts between my fingers and into the sleeves of my dirty, tattered garment.

To not worry Sir Mouser, I hide my hand and force a smile. “I am sorry, Sir Mouser, I cannot pet thee today.” I glance around the room fearfully. “But at least she is not here right now, so thou may stay for as long as thee wish.”

“Meow.”

“Who is she? Thou may never meet her, or bad things will happen.”

“Meow. Meoww.”

“Nay, she does not ever speak. I do not believe she can; it is sad really.” Taking one more look around, I pat my belly, attracting Sir Mouser’s attention. “Aye! But enough of that! Let us go see if we may find more food, Sir Mouser!”

Sir Mouser’s eyes widen at the word food, and I take that as a sign, he also wants to search for food. I grab an old rusted cooking pot I found buried in some manure and hold it out for Sir Mouser.

He stares at the pot. “...Meow.”

“I cleaned it in a puddle, and I have already boiled water within it. It's more than clean enough!”

Looking satisfied, Sir Mouser hops in, lies down, and pokes his head out. I grasp the handle with my left hand, and together we leave the safety of the sinkhole.

“We might be able to find some apples if we can go far enough beyond Aldgate in the east, Sir Mouser.”

“Meow. Meow. Meow.”

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Later the two of us are passing by the school for the wealthy children. I would sneak in to listen to Mr. Abernathy’s lesson, but today is my birthday, so I believe I have earned a day to myself. As I pass by the gate, my face is burning, and my breathing is labored.

‘Gehhhh, this pot is so heavy, but Sir Mouser is too noble to drag himself through the mud. Perhaps, I may distract myself somehow.’

I turn my head down toward the pot. “Sir Mouser, I have been curious. Is there, perhaps, a…” Moving closer, I whisper, “...Lady Mouser?”

He blinks at me a few times before growing bored and commences cleaning himself. Also, bored, I glance around for more distractions, noticing a stained glass window.

‘So delightful! Purple and blue are my favorite colors! ...Though having two favorites is unfair to both colors. After all, I am certain they wish to feel special as well...’ I spend a moment musing solutions to this quandary. Abruptly, I am struck by the most glorious resolution in recorded history. ‘Aye! Today purple shall be my favorite, and on the morrow, blue shall be my favorite! Now they both have their own day!’

“Watch thy step, roach!”

“Huh..? Oof!” My body hits something poofy, and I find myself promptly tossed to the ground.

To lessen the impact on Sir Mouser, I raise the pot higher and throw my right hand to the wet ground. For the second time today, I find myself falling onto my posterior and into a puddle.

I check the pot to find Sir Mouser shaken up but unhurt. Turning my head upward, I see a woman in a puffy black gown scowling at me. Next to her stands a man with a curled mustache wearing formal British military attire with his arm outstretched.

‘Did… did I do something bad?’

“Disgusting little roach! How dare thou stain my gown with thy filth!”

My eyes fall onto a clump of mud clinging to the folds of the gown. “M-my apologizes,” I reply quietly.

The man frowns, “Child, thou muddy the dress of Lady Annis, and that is all thou hast to say? I expect thou to pay for the cost of having the Lady’s dress cleaned.”

I can feel tears welling up in my eyes. ‘Pay?’

“Lord Charles, a low-born like this…” She stops looking me up and down. “...Girl, I suppose, would never be able to afford the cost of cleaning,” Lady Annis says with hate-filled eyes.

Sir Mouser hisses at the two nobles.

“Oh? Is that a cat?” Lord Charles asks, studying the pot.

“He is not merely a cat! He is Sir Mouser!”

Lord Charles scoffs and fiddles with his mustache as if pondering something. He glances at a carriage with horses before smirking with overt maliciousness.“Well then, my stables lack a decent mouser, all the better if it is a knight. As compensation for Lady Annis’s gown, I shall take this mouser.”

Seeing him reach for the pot, I kick my legs, causing me to slide through the mud and away from his grasp.

“Thou cannot take him from me, and…” Gulping back tears, I straighten my back, and shout, “S-Sir Mouser does not have a master! He is the champion of the London Squalors!”

My shouting seems to make Lord Charles livid as he stomps forward, grabbing at the handle. I panic and slap his hand away with my right hand. Too late, I remember my illness.

“Ah!” Lord Charles holds up his hand, revealing swollen black veins.

Lady Annis gasps loudly, and just as I am about to attempt to flee, she appears.

From my body, a large amount of haze drifts from my exposed skin as well as pours from the openings of my gown. It twists and turns before rushing together to make her. Her body is black like a shadow and full of churning haze. Her face has nary a feature, merely the outline of them. As she always does, she stands unmoving as if placed into this world by mistake. As usual, her appearance makes me feel tired, but my heart beats faster.

Lady Annis and Lord Charles stand stunned, preparing to scream for help.

“Witch! Wi—”

As they take a breath of air, haze separates from her and rushes toward them. It pours into them through their eyes, nose, and mouth.

Their expressions become hollow as the two stand motionlessly before dropping to their knees and staring at the ground. Around the corners of their eyes, red veins spread and bulge.

“I did not mean to!” I yell at the couple.

From past experiences, I know within the next couple of minutes, the two will become frenzied. My eyes dart from left to right. I jerk the pot from the muddy puddle, hug it, and jump to my feet. As fast as I can manage, I run.

“Meow.”

“I will not let anything happen to thee, Sir Mouser. I swear it!”

I glance back to see the haze thinning. The pair who were staring at the ground lift their heads. Lord Charles reacts first, spotting a gentleman who has arrived to investigate the commotion. In a rage, Lord Charles dashes toward the gentleman pouncing on him. Meanwhile, like a ravenous beast, Lady Annis runs into a grocer’s shop and starts gorging herself on whatever she can find.

I shake my head back and forth and refuse to look back again.

Quicker than I thought possible, I return to the sinkhole. I drop and roll into the hole, landing on my back with Sir Mouser on my belly. Placing Sir Mouser in the opposite corner, I throw my hands over my face and put my face between my legs.

Salty drops stain the soil beneath me.

“Meow.”

My best friend keeps me company.

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On the morrow, Sir Mouser and I plucked some delicious apples together. Best of all, Sir Mouser introduced me to Lady Mouser.

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[1]. To-and-fro: in a constant movement backward and forward or from side to side.

[2]. Mouser: an animal that catches mice, especially a cat.

[3]: Kid is another name for a young goat. 'Kid' as a way to refer to children was only just catching on at the time.