Ecclesia's Rain (Episode One)

ECCLESIA'S RAIN

Episode one: “The Sea”


I remember running to the sea, my thoughts stretched across the vast blue until they faded into the horizon. A part of me longed for the waves. Winters breath cooled the sand and chilled the souls of my feet, and I breathed a gentle wind. The ocean didn’t exist, the elders of the village explained. “The Goddess of Rain took it away herself.”

Yet I wondered why I dreamed of it. It’s beauty within my mind captivated me at uncontrollable levels of awe and wonder. A sixth sense reminded me of it as if it were a ghost haunting the strings of thoughts within my mind. It made little sense considering the ocean was no longer with us.

Mr. Trice looked upon me curiously as I sat behind a cold counter waiting for the shop to open. Someone with good eyes needed to manage the money, and I might have been the only person he trusted. He took me in some years ago, back when darkness flooded my sight, and he brought be back, somehow.

“What are you staring at?” He asked me with an old tongue.

I breathed heavy with a pending tiredness overwhelming my senses. He had to ask me again. “Serenity, what are you looking at?”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I’m very tired this morning--nothing catches my attention.”

He swept. “Then you may take the day off if you wish.”

“No.” I crossed my arms. “You need me, and I need the coins.”

His sweeping came to a halt. He looked upon me with guilt yet sympathy. His eyes closed, and he solemnly hummed to himself before he spoke. “I will pay you for the day. Besides, it is raining outside. There will be few customers.”

“I swore it that the rain followed me,” I said while turning on my stool.

“Pardon me?” his brow rose.

I shook my head again. “I’m very sorry. I’m thinking aloud.”

He pursued his task, dust pluming around the feet of the shelves where it would settle. “It’s not so bad to think out loud--to let the world hear your thoughts.”

My eyes widened. “They may hang me if I spoke what I thought.”

“Then they’d be hanging a beautiful mind,” he said sternly.

My lips tightened. “You’re too kind at--”

“You know,” his voice rose over mine, “that I am a heartless old bastard.”

He swept.

“Right, Mr. Trice. You are the one who no one speaks of.”

I turned to the window.

“Serenity,” he called my name for the second time in seconds. “Take the rest of the day off. I am not in need of your services.”

I heaved a breath, and threw my head back. My locks rolled from my chest and fell across my back. “What will I do? There is nothing.”

Knocks came, the sign hanging at the door rattled.

“We are closed!” I called rudely.

“Serenity, it’s raining outside. Let our guest in.”

I hoped from my stool, but before I could reach the door handle, it opened by itself. Mr. Trice stepped not far from behind me, his hand held forth as he telepathically moved the brass handle.

I moved back to my position behind the counter, and I sat back on my faulty stool. My chin rested on my knotted fists, my elbows bare on the counter. My mother would have complained a lady must always sit herself upright.

But she wasn’t here, and it was okay.

The stranger entered swiftly. “Pardon my early intrusion. I know the Sun to the West has yet to rise, but I’m in a bit of a hurry.” His voice sounded of violins yet held a rough edge like that of rust.

“Nonsense,” said Mr. Trice. “You are more than welcomed. How might I assist you?”

The stranger shook an umbrella dry, and clasped it shut. I suddenly straightened my back. Only the wealthy wielded such devices to keep their leather and fur dry.

I peered at him unwelcomingly from behind the counter. The room stayed gloomy and dim in the early morning and we wouldn't need candles unless we stayed open past the Sun to the East's falling. That never happened with the new curfew in affect and the unruly guards of the night on patrol stuck by the new law. I kept my attention to a dark silhouette browsing the shelves.

"Do you seek a particular item?" Mr. Trice asked the stranger kindly.

"I do," the stranger turned. "I was told you'd have Flare Scales."

Mr. Trice hummed to himself, but his tone came over me much deeper and mysteriously. "I suppose I might have some out back. What is it you intend to do with them?"

"I know every reason why they are illegal," the stranger spoke more quietly. "I know how they can be used, but I promise you my intentions aren't vile. My sister has harmed herself and I cannot seek help from a healer. She fights. Sometimes she looses."

Mr. Trice finished his explanation aloud. "And the healer would report her if he found out. Very well. You may wait at the counter."

"Thank you," he said with gratitude.

When he reached the counter, he placed his pouch of coins before me. I sneered in assumption as if he flaunted his wealth, but at a second glance he appeared to be running out of room in his pockets, so I brushed it off. He sat his umbrella beside the coin pouch, and he looked upon me unlike any being had looked at me.

His stare intrigued me. I couldn't keep myself from staring back no matter how badly I tried to repulse him. The brown of his eyes twitched behind a milky glaze, and for just a moment I thought he was partially blind.

"Who are you?" He asked.

"I'm Serenity, but I suddenly feel like someone else."

He slightly shook his head with a sense of confusion brought about in his brow. "I feel the same."

I widened my eyes and looked away from him. "I apologize."

"Please don't."

Everything in my eye sight became blurry as I pondered upon those moments beforehand. I gripped the counter, and my chest rose more fell as I held my breath.

"Do I know you?" I asked without looking at him.

"I— I don't actually know."

His hand brushed against my cheek as he urged me to look at him. I didn't feel repulsed by his touch. I shivered as the world went hazy and I suddenly felt as if I was the center of it.

"Your skin is beautiful." He breathed his words.

I reached up slowly, and placed my hand on his wrist. He didn't refrain as I pulled his fingers from my cheek and I placed his hand gently onto the counter.

My bangs fell across my eye. "I'm sorry but I don't know you." I quivered.

"I appologize. That was out of line."

I shook my head. "Please don't apologize. There's nothing to apologize for."

The door creaked at the back of the shop. Mr. Trice came walking slowly, and said very little. "You didn't get these from here." He placed a small cloth bag on the table.

The stranger stared at the bag on the counter for the following moments. "How much?"

"Pay what you'd like or don't pay at all. I'm not supposed to sale this anymore." Mr. Trice fled to the back of the shop.

The stranger opened his coin bag and placed two pig-skinned colored coins on the counter top. "This should be enough," he said as he hurried to place the tiny cloth sacks in his pockets. He picked up his umbrella, and opened it as he opened the door.

"Who are you?" I asked. "I don't know you."

As the outer light brightened the profile of his face, he paused in distress. "I'll never see you again, you know that?"

I bit my lip as my stomach curled. "Then I couldn't imagine why it'd matter if I knew your name."

He nodded sorrowfully. "My name is Kaze."