The morning sun offered no warmth against the biting air of the town. I huddled beneath the thin, scratchy wool blanket the old shopkeeper had given me. It barely covered my shoulders, and it certainly did not stop the shivering. My back throbbed with a sharp, stabbing pain—a cruel gift from the hard, unforgiving earth I had slept upon the night before.
I reached behind me, trying to massage the stiff muscles, but I only winced. Every movement felt like a heavy chore. My nose was stuffy, my throat felt as if it were filled with broken glass, and my head pounded with a relentless, rhythmic beat. I was catching a fever, and in this place, a common chill felt like a death sentence.
I have to find work, I told myself, clutching the blanket tight. If I don't earn more silver, I'm going to starve.
I spent the morning trudging through the mud, searching every shop window for a sign of labor. Finally, I saw it: a piece of parchment tacked to a wooden post outside a busy tavern. Help Wanted: Server. My heart leaped. It was my chance. I tore the paper down, smoothed the wrinkles, and marched inside with a hopeful smile.
The tavern smelled of stale ale and woodsmoke. A woman stood behind the counter, her hair tied back in a messy knot. She looked me up and down, her eyes narrowing as they landed on my strange, worn-out sneakers and my shredded denim.
"What is your business here?" she snapped, not even bothering to look at my face.
"Oh, pardon me," I said, offering a nervous, awkward smile. "I'm not here to order. I saw your sign outside—I'm here to apply for the position."
The woman stopped. She took a slow, insulting step toward me, staring at my clothes as if I were a piece of filth. "Apply? You? Look at yourself!" She let out a sharp, mocking laugh that made the other tavern patrons turn to look. "You look like a stray cur that just crawled out of the gutter. We are not hiring. Be gone, vagabond."
I felt a sting of embarrassment, but I held my ground. I pulled the crumpled flyer from my pocket and smoothed it out on the wooden counter, pointing to the writing. "But, Ma'am, your sign clearly states you seek a server! I am strong and I am eager to work. Please, look!"
The woman didn't even glance at the paper. She snatched the flyer from the counter, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it right at my chest. "I said we are not hiring! Are you deaf, creature? We have no need for your kind here. Get out of my sight before I have you whipped for loitering!"
"Please," I pleaded, my voice cracking under the pressure. "I only ask for a chance to earn my bread—"
She didn't let me finish. She gestured to a large man sitting near the door. He stood up, towering over me, his expression bored. Without a word, he grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the exit.
"Release me! I have done nothing wrong!" I shouted.
He hauled me to the doorway and shoved me out. I landed hard on the gravel, my elbow scraping against a sharp stone. A thin line of blood began to seep through my sleeve.
"Argh!" I gasped, clutching my arm. "You could have just told me to leave! There was no need for violence!"
The man just stared at me, his eyes cold, and slammed the heavy wooden door shut.
I didn't give up. I tried a second shop, a small bakery. The owner was busy kneading dough. I stood at the counter, waiting.
"Sir?" I said softly. No response.
"Excuse me, sir?" I said louder. Still, he ignored me, continuing to push the dough as if I were invisible.
I stepped closer, my voice trembling. "Sir, please, I see you are busy. I am looking for work. I am strong, and I am willing to serve. Please, look at me."
He didn't blink. He acted as if I were thin air. I stood there for ten minutes, my stomach twisting, begging him to simply acknowledge me. "Sir, I have nowhere to go. Please, just one look. Please, kind sir, I am begging you..."
His hands stopped. He looked up, his face turning a deep, dangerous red. "How dare you interrupt my labor, you wretched beggar! Did I not tell you to be silent? Get out of my shop this instant, or I shall call the watchman to drag you to the stocks for your insolence!"
By the time the sun began to set, my hope had withered. I dragged myself to the town plaza and collapsed onto a stone bench. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my last two silver coins. Should I spend one? I wondered, my stomach cramping. If I spend one, I will only have one left for tomorrow. But if I don't eat, will I have the strength to stand? I took a deep breath. I must have strength to survive. I walked to a nearby vendor and exchanged one coin for a small piece of dry bread.
Four days crawled by like a nightmare. My coins were gone. Hunger was no longer a sharp pain; it was a dull, constant ache. I walked through the alleys like a zombie, my legs heavy, my mind fuzzy.
"Food... please..." I whispered to the shadows. The world started to spin. The stone walls of the alleyway seemed to tilt, and the ground rushed up to meet me. Is this how I die? Everything went black.
"Miss! Please, Miss, wake up!"
The voice was high and frantic, echoing in the darkness. I tried to open my eyes, but they felt glued shut.
Where am I? Suddenly, the cold was gone. The smell of garbage was replaced by the clean, crisp scent of expensive linens. I gasped, my eyes flying open. I was in a soft, white bed in a beautiful hotel suite. Mia was sitting across from me, a porcelain cup in her hand, looking at me with a confused expression.
"Mia?" I whispered, my voice sounding weak.
Mia set her coffee cup down, her brow furrowed. "Mary? Why are you staring at me like that? Are you quite alright?"
"Mia! I am back!" I screamed, a wave of pure relief washing over me. I jumped out of the bed, spinning in circles, laughing and crying all at once. "It was a nightmare! A horrible, long nightmare! I am back in Russia! I am back!"
Mia stood up, looking deeply concerned. "Mary, what are you talking about? You have been sitting there for ten minutes staring at the wall. Are you feeling ill? You are acting quite strange."
But as she spoke, her voice began to sound distorted. The bright, sunny hotel room began to flicker and darken. The luxury furniture turned into rough, jagged shadows.
"Mary? Why are you staring at me like that?" Mia's face began to melt away, replaced by the dim, flickering yellow light of an oil lamp.
The hotel room vanished. I was lying on a hard, wooden bed.
"Mistress! She is awake! She is awake!" a little girl's voice shouted nearby.
I blinked, my head throbbing with a painful intensity. I was staring up at a dark, soot-stained ceiling. A little girl with messy hair was kneeling beside the wooden bed, her eyes wide with fear.
I tried to sit up, but my body felt like lead. Then, a woman stepped into the dim light.
"Mia?" I gasped, my heart stuttering.
The woman reached out, her hands warm as they touched my face. "You are safe now" she said, her voice filled with deep concern.
My vision failed, the room growing darker and darker. I felt so tired, so heavy. I looked at the woman one last time.
"Mia..." I whispered, and then the darkness swallowed me whole.