It was quite peculiar to her at first, how the stillness enveloped her body. She watched her limbs slide through the chilled water that swallowed her flesh. Their once-powdered surfaces were cast blue by the undulating shafts of moonlight floating down from the surface. The flotsam churned along with tumbled bits of ice and mud, the only markers of her passage from the world above to the world which yawned black below. Unwinding into the light like an uncoiled serpent, a single red ribbon floated above her, from her. Her hand drifted through it, not by her own volition, causing it to cloud. It was warm.
Her hair floated about her face, the long strands gently caressing her skin. She kept her eyes open, straining her pupils against the water’s icy embrace. The pillars of the moon`s reach were darkening before her.
She could no longer feel the cold nor the weighted tresses of her gown though she knew it was the latter that pulled her down. As the last of the light finally gave way to encroaching darkness, she smiled.
“Anastasia! Drucilda!” The shrill pitch of an operatic performer long past her prime echoed through the dull wood slats of the stacked house. “Come here girls!”
The eavesdropper dug her fingers and toes into the brick side-walls of her hideaway in the chimney. She held her breath tightly, lest the owners of the rapid approaching footsteps discover her. The sound of the older woman’s foot tapping against the creaky floorboards filtered up from beneath the eavesdropper’s feet. Though the narrow space was cramped, its unrepentant darkness gave her solace. The soot that caked her hair and fingernails was its price. She had often suffered ridicule because of it, from the two older girls now entering the room.
“Yes Stepmother!” They answered in unison as they bounced into the room. She could hear the resignation behind their gritted fawning when they spoke, though despite her best efforts, she could never quite imitate it.
“Girls, I want you to get the house together. Today is a very big day.” The eavesdropper could almost see Stepmother caressing the black feather boa that she often wore around her neck. “We have a very special visitor today.”
“Wot kinda visitor Stepmother? Is he a pony?” the younger of the two asked, running her tongue along her teeth. A pony, as he was known to all the girls of their house, was a fledgling nobleman, one often in need of a strong but gentle ride. Of the two of them, the younger was well-preferred by many of the ponies that stopped in for a visit. Though just shy of her twentieth birthday, her enthusiastic performance had already earned her a healthy list of clients.
“Oh not at all Anastasia,” Stepmother cooed, using her bejeweled finger to lift the girl’s chin. “This one will be one of our more unique clients. One in need of our specialized services.”
“’Haps more of a broomtail then,” the older, dark-haired one offered archly. She glanced at the one Stepmother preferred her to call “sister”, “a gentleman who’s had enough experience to acquire more refined tastes.”
Stepmother clucked her tongue. “You are mistaken Drucilda.”
Drucilda and Anastasia hung their shoulders. It appeared that neither of them would be in line to make a profit today.
Stepmother allowed both of their spirits to sink then gave a hearty chuckle, a carefully controlled sound she used only to reflect her disdain. “Oh, my dear stupid girls, not a client. A visitor! Godfrey is coming to see us. And he has some very interesting news.”
The sisters squealed in joy. Whenever Godfrey came to visit, it meant that one of the girls had the chance to earn a small fortune. If she were willing to take the risk.
