@AJMaskell
This is the recently rewritten first chapter of my story Little Bird's Book of Lies:
(The bits in [ ] are meant to be italicised)
[“Don’t say your name. Say your name and you’re dead.”]
The words of her brother echo through her head. Reverberating over and over against her skull. Always constant. Never leaving. It has been like this for years. Persistent since his death. His words were one of two things she remembered about him, the second being the moment she saw him die. She wasn’t unfamiliar with death, living in the gutters of Cavisle, how could she not be? She was surrounded by death and disease and filth in her corner of the city, though within eyeshot was the castle and it’s representation of wealth. Part of her wanted to be there, the other part scared of what people may discover about her.
She had her secrets, as many people do. She kept her cards close to her chest and her feelings locked away in her heart. This was how she had been for as long as she could remember. This was what life taught her to be. When living in the harshest, poorest parts of Cavisle, one must learn these things lest their belongings and life be taken.
Though she was a lone little girl, no older then seven, though she appeared younger, hardly anyone approached her. There was the odd occasion when a group of teenaged boys whom were half-starved would come after her, trying to wrestle her heart away from her, trying to take her secrets. She would always outsmart these boys, evading capture. Over her time in the gutters she had learnt how these boys thought, and had learnt how to bend them to leave her be. She would tell them of good street venders to steal from, occasionally causing some of the boys to be imprisoned and later executed for the crime of thievery.
To be a thief, one must be stealthy and become invisible to the victim. The young girl was rather adept at this, having honed her craft over time. As she was so small, no one saw her coming, and if they did, they never perceived her as a threat. That was the charm of the little girl who clutched a small wood-carved bird. This bird being her heart, the heart that connects her to her past. Her name had once been carved onto the base of the bird, but over the years she had rubbed it mostly away. It had also shrunk in size due to her brother taking a knife to the carved words.
[“Say your name and you’re dead.”]
“Oi, bird girl!”
The half-starved boys had returned. There number had shrunk slightly, some having being caught as thieves and others having succumbed to the death grip that was hunger.
The little girl looked up at the approaching adolescents.
“You sent us into a trap, didn’t you?” The tallest of the group marched right up to her, seizing the collar of her sack-like dress. “D’you remember misleading us with those street sellers?”
She spoke back to them, “Zos nagier raknaor.” She could have spoken in their language, the language of Cavisle, but she preferred her own words.
“What kind of freak language is that?” The leader looked taken aback at her foreign words. The words she spoke were words that had seldom been heard in centuries.
“Is that the language witches speak? Are you a witch, bird girl?” The boys had journeyed closer to her, ready to strike. She anticipated their moves and was already mapping out an escape route. “We don’t take kindly to witches, bird girl.” Like an arrow being shot from a bow they pounced at her. She fled, knowing she had no hope of fighting them, being so small and so outnumbered.
She ran down the winding streets, down steep flights of stairs, around bends and tight corners, the sound of the pounding of feet chasing her trying to grab her. She burst out of an alleyway and into a crowded street full of venders trying to sell their wares. She took a sharp turn, running into an alley that was parallel to the one she had just emerged from. She continued to run, though already knowing that her pursuers had lost her in the crowds behind her. She stopped and surveyed her surroundings, getting her bearings for this new location.
“You’re a resourceful one, aren’t you?”
She jumped.
The shadow of a man emerged from the side of the alley. “Don’t be frightened, I’m a friend.”
“The word ‘friend’ means nothing. There are no friends, just foes.” She told him this with a hard look in her eyes. Her eyes displaying all that she had seen, all that she had known in her short life.
“It has come time to change that. Come with me and you shall learn kindness.”
She looked him over sceptically.
“You won’t be alone. I have other children, other friends for you. They all learn together at my school.” The man held out his hand. “What’s your name child?”
[“Don’t say your name.”]
She watched him, considering her answer.
[“Say your name and you’re dead.”]
“I promise that no harm will come to you.”
[“Don’t.”]
She opens her mouth to speak, to give him an answer.
[“You’re dead.”]
“You may call me Little Bird.” She told him. She had given him an answer. An answer, certainly, just not the right one. She lied to this stranger, a lie she told anyone who asked. She knew not to say her name, if she spoke aloud her real name she would have died a long time ago, as her brother had. This lie, the lie that replaced her name was always the first lie she would tell a person. She gave this man her first lie.
