The Last Caster

Chase Turner swept the dust ridden floor of his father’s bookshop. He fervently swept every last dust particle and then jumped to start cleaning the bookcases. The thousands of books that lined the shelves shimmered with gold lettering, in the morning light that entered the windows. Being the son of a bookshop owner, Chase had a natural knack for reading. His father claimed he was born with the ability to read. Chase had read a lot when he was young but in recent years he never had time, he rarely made time.

His father still sleeping showed no sign of waking up today. His father lay in the bedroom up the wooden stairs, in the back of the bookshop. Their house was small but it fit their small family. Chase finished sweeping and dusting, he ran on the wooden floor boards, his steps echoing in the empty shop. He made his way past the cash register and up the stairs.

Chase bolted towards his father’s room and he could see the old man jumping into the air. The old man feverishly brushed his hair and threw on his coat. Chase entered the room, his father still struggling with his shirt and buttons. He was clearly trying to hide the fact that he was still asleep.

“Morning father, I’ve cleaned the shop anything you need from the market?” Chase asked.

His father now seeming more composed answered, “You’re up early, and you cleaned the shop, no I don’t need anything from the market.”

Chase nodded, “I’ll be off then.” he said as he ran out of the room and down the stairs.

Chase ran out of the shop and into the street. Still quiet the street echoed with footsteps as he ran down it. His feet barely touched the ground as he excitedly ran towards the market.
The cold morning air swept past Chase’s face and chilled him to the bones. He saw the barman opening up his tavern when he turned the corner. He gave a polite wave but the barman beckoned him. “Chase old boy don’t you want to do us a favour,” chase stopped and listened “I’ve got a parcel I need fetching from the docks, I’ll give you some fine beer and a coin or two for your service.” Chase inspected the sincere face of the barman, the man was now smiling wryly but Chase replied, “No problem Sir I’ll be back later.”

The barman bowed down graciously and thanked Chase. It was then that Chase suspected something; the barman never over-flattered Chase with gestures of thanks. Chase always ran errands, a few trips to the market or a parcel delivery to one of the many Dens in town. Chase shrugged it off and ran towards the market.

The streets were now starting to bustle with the daily meandering of people. Chase struggled to keep his balance on the wet pavement. The night’s rain had hammered hard onto the earth. The street was filled to the brim with water and puddles overcrowded the walkway. Chase saw the gang of alley boy’s gathering in their alley, just around the corner from the market. He ducked into the narrow alley and the boy’s looked up surprised to see him, “Well you’re early for a change, you ready to do it,” Chase smiled and replied “Sure I am I’ll show you that I’m better than the lot of you.” Chase had met the alley boys a few days ago; they had promised him friendship with one formality.

“So all I have to do is beat Billy and get back faster than he does,” the boys nodded and Billy said, “Just watch out for the police they’ll catch you faster than you think.”

Chase peered out of the alley and surveyed the crowd. The market was busy with people buying and selling scrap pieces of metal, fruit and other wares.

Chase saw the perfect target, a man with a very nice coat and a shiny pocket watch. Chase approached the man; he tipped his hat down to avoid the man seeing his face. His hands poised to attack the pocket watch, waiting anxiously in position. The man haggled one of the merchants his arms shot up into the air. He was outraged at the price the man was charging him. Chase saw this opportunity and his hand shot out like a serpent. He could feel the cold metal in his hands. He rushed away from the market; he could still hear the man now pleading the merchant for a better price. Chase smirked as he fumbled the pocket watch around in his hand.

He managed to do it, he had doubted himself but he had succeeded and now the alley boy’s would accept him. The years working in the bookshop added up it had taught him to steady his hand. He ducked back into the alley the boys greedily smiling and applauding him. Seconds later Billy ducked back into the alley. He had managed to pocket a fig, two apples and a mangled leather strap. The other boys laughed and when Billy saw the pocket watch he blushed.

“I won, so what are we going to do now,” Chase hurried towards Billy to give him a closer look at the pocket watch.

Billy slapped the pocket watch out of Chase’s hand. “No, no, no wait I won fair and square.” Chase tried to calm the leader of the alley boys but he was enraged. Billy drew a piece of glass wrapped with cloth out of his pocket. Billy that guarded the exit of the alley and Chase feared for his life. The alley boys behind chase jeered and greedily fought over the pocket watch. Billy approached Chase skillfully maneuvering his glass dagger.

The alley was very narrow the walls less than a few feet apart. The other boys were no threat to Chase as they were fighting over the pocket watch. They thrashed behind him screaming as the punches flew in the air. Dust flew around the air inside the alley as their feet brushed it from the ground. The alley was bone dry even though the rain had poured down the previous night. Chase put his hands on the moss covered walls trying to climb upwards. The moss made it nearly impossible to grip the wall. He nearly had his grip but the brick crumbled as his weight bore down on it. Sweat gushing from his face he was now well aware of the heart pumping in his chest. His heart threatened to escape from his body with every step that Billy drew closer. Chase fell down from the wall he barely scaled. In his hands the better half of a brick. Chase stooped low and groped a handful of dirt. He was now ready for his escape plan. He threw the dust into Billy’s face, but the gust of air that funneled into the narrow alley had routed the dust directly into his eyes. Chase coughed and tried to open his eyes, now struggling to see. He could hear the laughter bellowing from Billy now a few feet away from him. He gripped the rock and fell down to the floor. He coughed the dust now spurring on his asthma. His plan had failed horribly and crippled him in turn. His heart beat profusely he could still hear the other alley boys behind him. He tried balancing against the wall pulling him to a standing position.

Billy lunged forward and nicked Chase’s shirt. Chase quickly swung his arm around bashing Billy in the face with the rock. It hit Billy directly in the mouth; white pieces flew from his mouth up into the air. Soon blood trailed from Billy’s mouth, he spat onto the ground and lunged again. The glass dagger went into Chase’s arm, “Aaaghh, my arm!”

He groped Billy’s neck and flung him with his own momentum into the boys behind him. Chase had an opportunity to escape as Billy struggled to regain his footing. He scrambled out of the alley and ran as fast as he could. He darted past the tavern and around the corner. The street now crowded with people, staring at him as he ran into the bookshop. Luckily the shop was still empty, he dashed up the stairs. His father saw him when he jolted past the cash register.

He called from downstairs, “Chase everything okay, did you get what you wanted from the market?”  Chase’s arm gushed blood and he grew faint as he stumbled towards his room. “I saw Mrs. Montgomery just now she says you rushed past her on your way to the market.” Chase’s father started up the stairs his steps reverberating in his head. Downstairs he could hear another pair of feet entering the bookshop his father’s steps hesitated and then backed off.

His bed was covered with blood and he was pale as a ghost. Chase grew nauseous; he managed to wrap a cloth around his arm. He closed his door and tried to clean up the blood. Moments later he fell down into the pool of blood he felt the life draining from him. The liquid that seeped from his arm now covered his face; the steely taste lingered in his mouth as he lost consciousness. 

Chase woke up a few hours later, dried blood flaking from his face. It was dark outside, and the winds howled against his window. He had to make his way towards the dock if he was to keep the barman from skinning him alive. He cautiously opened his door and listened for his father’s footsteps. He could hear nothing outside his door; he slowly and precociously stepped on the floorboards. He avoided making any noise as he crept down the stairs. The shop was dark and it appeared that his father was not in the house. He could see a few bindings strewn on the floor behind the cash register. He sneaked towards the front door and tugged on it. The door flung open as the wind pushed inside. He jumped outside and closed the door. He was alone outside and had no sense of what the time could be. Chase rushed down the street him past the tavern and could see that it was packed. He slipped past without the barman noticing him.
Chase ran down the street and turned just before the market, he wanted to avoid going through the market. The fear of being ambushed by the alley boys grew in him as he made the turn towards the dock. They usually patrolled this area but it was late at night and they would hopefully be asleep. He approached the dock; the barman had never specified what he should do. When he stepped of the pavement and onto the dock he could see no one. He could hear the boats rocking in the water and the odd seagull crying in the distance. He moved towards the end of the dock and saw a hooded figure sitting on the edge with a fishing rod.

Chase approached the man “Sir, the barman sent me to retrieve a parcel,” the man rocked with the winds barely paying attention to Chase, “Do you know of this parcel.” The man motioned his hand into his pocket and retrieved a small box that was wrapped with white paper. Chase looked at him and accepted the parcel from him, “Thank you, Sir” Chase turned around and as he made his way back he saw something.  The man’s hand was momentarily covered with blue dancing flames after he gave him the box. Chase observed the Tattoo-like markings that glinted with a faint blue light. It vanished and Chase still stood there looking at the man’s hand. The man motioned his hand into his pocket and Chase slowly made his way from the dock. Was he imagining it because he had blood loss or was it real?

Chase contemplated this all along the road towards the tavern. He wanted to see what this parcel was. He ran past the tavern and to the bookshop, he opened the door and locked it behind him. The shop was cold and dark. He walked up the stairs and slowly peered around the corner into his father’s room. He was not there, but the lights were on. He walked towards his room; his room was filled with blood. It was caked on the walls and floor. He passed the mirror outside his room. His face was covered with blood, streaks of dried blood on his nose, chin and in his hair. Luckily no one had seen him. He closed his door on the empty house.

He heard the faint trickle of rain bleeding from the clouds. The droplets menacingly hit the window as the wind surged outside. He opened his hand to reveal the box. He slowly opened the paper around it; he saw the black box. The box was bigger than his hand, it was made from wood, and he could feel a few channels running across the box. He tried prying it open with his fingers. Nothing happened; he threw the box onto his bed. He opened his door and inspected his father’s room, nothing. “Father, where are you?” he shouted.

The wind erupted outside, it had fused with the rain and a storm was brewing outside.