Urban Fantasy: First Chapter

Please take note that I know that humans, elves and orcs and nymphs and whatnot age differently, this story is in an alternate universe where all the characters age on the same scale as humans. Thank you

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***

The weather outside the café was bleak and cloudy – which was no surprise in this mess of an urban tangle reeking with metropolitan pollution and melancholy. Silhouetted against the grey light filtering through a blinded window, Saharan, a young elven lady of 24 human years, average height, shapely, but not plump, lingered over a cup of hot coffee, pondering thoughts over the day's tasks. Purple eyes flickered back and forth between the strawberry-cream-filled donut and that cup of coffee and the steam that arose from its dark reservoir and the list currently occupying the girl's attentions.

"What am I going to do...?" she asked herself, whilst a slender hand scribbled lightly over a messy pad with a pen that produced writing like as if it were on its last leg – with lines that broke on random. Saharan made an exasperated sound before banging the cheap pen a few times on the surface of the table, as if attempting to bring back life to something that was already dead, but it was of no use. She scrunched up her nose and smirked at the dead pen and eyed the words 'Made in China' with much contempt and exasperation before tossing the faulty thing off into some dark corner of the café.

"At least these things are a dime a dozen," the girl quietly remarked to herself before pausing a moment to shuffle through the mess of stuff that was in her body bag by her side. Compact, earrings, hairbrush, lip gloss, Smint, cell phone, "Where is it...?" the elven girl murmured in growing frustration, while fingers fished out other bits and pieces of crumpled paper and candy wrappers, before finally finding her quarry; a box of those same China pens, half of which she'd already consumed.

The pen was tapped against the table's surface a few times before being scribbled on an old receipt to make sure it was writing, and it did! Hooray for me, Saharan thought before biting down lightly on the end of the pen and turning back to thoughts she was so previously engrossed in, and flicking a stray lock of jet black hair that was bothering her line of sight.

"Laundry is twenty gold for the week, groceries come to about one hundred, electricity, water both make a hundred so far with my internet bill at fifty..." she murmured quietly to herself in solemn repose. What was failed to mention, intentionally, was further down the list, down at the bottom written in such unsavory taste was a mere scribble with a large G500 next to it. So detached from the outer world of cars and trucks outside buzzing by, humans, orcs, dwarves, and other elves were not noticed by this girl as they gave her the few odd stares and glances whilst they each attended to their business of sipping coffee and drinks or whatnot on nearby tables. The girl was very pretty - almond-shaped eyes, kissable lips, a nose to match and high-set cheekbones - but it wasn't that that made them stare. It was more of her strange mutterings and mumblings that did. She broke off from her train of thought and turned back to her bag, once more shuffling through the usual girlish balderdash with slight brewing frustration, to find her wallet which she promptly opened. Inside were old receipts, small flyers, pictures of family and a few gold bills which she counted to a mere 200.

"Fuck, my bills are due and I only have . . . less than half," the girl thought nervously before grasping the cup of coffee and taking a long, relishing sip, only to sigh out in lingering frustration and countering constraint. It was only three in the afternoon, and there were still many things to be done before she could call it a day, but the bills! The bills were constantly nagging her, constantly grabbing her worry and reaching through her skull to poke and fondle at her very brain. She visualized a giant bill chasing her down a dark and rancid alley, down the streets and into a cornfield where she stumbled on a root where her last sight was the G 2,000-stamped bill about to stomp her to oblivion. However, Saharan was suddenly awoken by the tiny nymph who worked at the café who presented her with the bill, "Hey Saharan, wake up!" yelled the tiny pixie as she fluttered down onto the space between the donut and cold cup of coffee, staring up at the elven girl with big, blue luminous eyes.

"Ugh...," Saharan groaned, as if she'd already been asleep for the longest time.

"You've been dozing off for about an hour already," said the pixie, which went by the name of Liache.

Saharan, who still seemed to be half-asleep, slowly reached for the bill and gave it some light scrutiny, before fishing out a crumpled G20 from her pocket and handed it to the little pixie, "Ohhhhggghh... thank Liache...," said she before placing a hand over her right eye and half her face, as if in agonizing thought.

"You're very welcome," said the dainty little nymph, before preparing to take flight once more, only to pause to ask, "What's the matter Saharan?" a light tone of concern in her tiny voice.

"Mm... bills are due soon," came the somber reply

"Bills are very bad! I just paid my bills the other day, and I can't even imagine on why they make the interests on these things so high!"

"It's the price of capitalism, and I guess it's the price of living in an all-too materialistic world where everyone is only interested in their outer selves, and neglecting the self that is inside of them,"

Liache took in a breath to reply, only to be called out angrily by the dwarf manning the cash register, "Liache! Where are those bills and payments?!" to which the pixie yelled out in reply that she was just collecting them.

She shook her head slowly before gazing upwards at Saharan, "I gotta go, or else I won't have a job to pay the bills with," she said with a pleasant smile and fluttering off in a trail of glittery sparkles.

Saharan gave out a soft sigh before eyes settled once more on the list of bills atop of that table, a list of worrying and nauseating gobbledygook that was worth a decapitated finger or two, a list that looked apparently harmless, but was worth all the headaches in the world. Ah well, one mustn't grovel over matters beyond what we can control at the moment, this was the thought of the girl before slouching lazily on her seat by the window, which by now was emitting a soft and constant pitter pattering, as outside it had already begun to drizzle. Overhead, a lazy ceiling fan produced a monotonous whirring of white sound, as if it were on its last leg, too. Saharan slumped over and laid her chin against a balled fist whilst eyes followed the rivulets of water trailing down the outside of the window which were being consumed by a small puddle just at the foot of the pane, whilst lazy images began to drift into her vision.

A lake, a large expanse of glowing water immersed in the bathing light of a setting sun. A boat gently making its way from the tiny dock to the isle in the middle, where a small cottage was seen spewing thin wisps of smoke from its chimney. Soothing were the images to Saharan, who slowly drifted off to a light slumber, only to be shaken awake by the boisterous and sickening roar of a dump truck that passed by, and the dizzying staccato of a jackhammer that had just started outside. She thought that she desperately needed to somehow get away from this all, this, these bills, the noise, the people around her, the pollution outside, and her head began to spin for a moment. She straightened her posture once more, as if awaiting the queen of bees herself, before turning her eyes around the café, and whose occupants had been giving her the eyes for quite a bit now. A few orcs chatting with humans seated on some sofas, some nondescript Halflings, and a number of nymphs fluttering around going about their daily tasks. Outside were other elves and humans and dwarves and whatnot milling about the sidewalk stands or merely passing by, and for some reason this sight made her stomach tumble.

Right hand promptly clasped over her mouth whilst the other gathered her belongings and stuffed them into her bag, whilst resisting the urge to retch. She stumbled and staggered while on the way to the comfort room, knocking over some chairs in the process and nearly tipping over some drinks as well, much to the protest of their owners, but she Saharan paid them no heed anyway. The others in the room simply stared at the strange elfish girl as she kicked the door of the water closet in and immediately began retching inside a cubicle. Inside, Saharan was knelt before the toilet, retching out what she had consumed of her donut and coffee. What's happening to me? She thought to herself before stifling the urge to let out another one.

She had had enough, and struggled through the slippery floor tiles to get up. She grabbed a hold of the door handle and hoisted herself up with much effort before finally staggering to her feet and flushed the contents of the toilet just for decency's sake. Saharan walked slowly towards one of the sinks in the washroom and turned the tap to wash her mouth with whilst eyes stared into their reflection by the mirror in front. She thought of herself as being a mess, and began fixing her white blouse and the knee-length skirt that had rode up to her thighs while she was puking in the cubicle. A few buttons done and undone, bangles straightened and locks of hair tucked behind pointed ears.

Once she had done, she slowly walked out of the washroom, much to the surprise of the same crowd outside who were mostly staring at her before turning back to whatever it is they were doing, however, the stares partly made her sick again, but she managed to control herself this time around.

The bell by the door tinkled as Saharan pushed it open to exit the café, and was met by a slight drizzle that dappled at the crown of her head. Eyes veered upwards to take a long glance at the slightly dark sky whilst hand acted as a visor on her brow to dampen the somewhat stinging light to her sensitive eyes, "What a day...," Saharan thought to herself before beginning to walk in the direction of her flat, somewhat in a daze from her earlier retching. People appeared as wraithlike beings in her blurry vision as they passed by her, some bumping into her in her blindness before walking away unapologetically. She walked down the sidewalk, avoiding cracks and leaky pipes and puddles that were spewing and forming with the light drizzling, almost in a trance whilst counting those 482 memorized steps from the café down to her apartment in a mixed neighborhood not unknown for its orc 'hoods' and elven ghettos, even though she wasn't much for those kinds of people.

For a while, under the trance she was experiencing at the moment, she could remember how several years ago when she first moved into the urban setting she strolled down this same sidewalk She first moved here under the premise of moving out of her parents' house and finding perhaps a job that suited her, to finally be independent and to rough it out on her own, like many others her age. Dreams to someday be great often lingered around the girl's head, gnawing at her mind and nagging through the strongest anxieties to somehow live her dreams and pass into history, somehow. But what am I to do? Rough times have come on me, yes. Very rough times, indeed. She thought to herself before receiving an answer from the dark oblivion beneath her mind. That doesn't matter, by hook or by crook, for

my

sake you will do as I bid you to, and right now you won't stop at anything to achieve

my

goals.

The incoherent voice spoke with authority, as if the elf's fate hung by a thread that was attached only to the voice in the shadows, and it

knew

it was in control. Rough times, indeed. In Saharan's mind, in this most sanctified and private of places, whenever she visited or was summoned by the voice, she was literally dangling by a thread, held only by something hidden in the shadows above, the only thing that kept her from tumbling into the oblivion below.

"Rough times, indeed," the girl repeated before bleating out a reply in her mind, "But first, I must find a way to pay those bills...," her eyes, glazed over, drifted slowly from one object to another, a beat up mailbox or a mangy dog sleeping on a porch.

This trance did not last long, however, when she was jolted into the real world by a gruff voice that was calling out her name from behind her, and she twisted around on a heel to see who it was.

"Saharan! Saharan!" the voice called once more before the girl finally saw who her 'secret admirer' was. It was this goblin named Griblet, and he came bounding down the sidewalk, coming from the general direction of the café she had just come from. The orc, short and stubby even by her standards, bounded the last few steps before stopping right in front of Saharan, only to bend over and lean on his knees to catch his breath, much to the surprise and annoyance of the elf. It was at this point that Saharan averted her eyes and rolled them in such a way to express her exasperation at the goblin who'd been hounding her for as long as she could remember.

She first met him a few weeks after she'd moved into the city, and the little fellow seemed to take an immediate liking to the girl, even though she may or may have not reciprocated the feelings. While standing in the hallway outside of her apartment, carrying some boxes, the goblin just suddenly appeared from nowhere and began babbling away, "Oi! Yer new 'ere, aren't yeh, lass? I 'aven't seen you from 'nywhere 'round 'ere,"

Setting a brown, beaten box down on top of another nearby, and nodding in affirmation with a soft glint of a smile, she replied, "Yeah, I just moved in from the outer skirts of the suburbs east of here," was said in a lightly pleasant voice.

"Eh, wot made yeh do that?"

"Oh, this and that," she replied somberly, and with that started moving boxes into her apartment once more, the orc following her inside. Two other workers had just exited the room, after helping the biggest of the boxes in, left, leaving Saharan to unpack her various belongings alone, only with the company of the clueless goblin who seemed to take a fancy at her ass each time she bent over to rummage through a box. At around this time, her apartment was still sparse; a sleeping bag off to the right of the door, some towels in the bathroom and some clothes inside a box she'd brought before the rest of her stuff came, however, Griblet still managed to make himself at home sitting on a stool even though no invitation was given for him to come in. He just whiled away that afternoon making idle balderdash chit chat and watching Saharan unpack and arrange her belongings in a careful and tedious way.

Anyway, that was then, and through all the years that passed, all the times he'd been gently rebuffed by her in his approaches, the goblin still wanted to fuck her for everything she was worth. For some strange reason, in his goblin mind, he was close to getting what he wanted; maybe it would be today, tomorrow, next week or even next month, but that strange feeling lingered in his crude brain, tickled at the part which yearned only copulation and gnawed at his obsessions until the very prospect of bedding with Saharan was placed on a pedestal somewhere in the hallways of his mind. It tormented him each time he'd see her, and for the most part his eyes would be undressing her, imagining how he'd be squeezing at her breasts or toying with her nipples, or fondling with her pert ass, or how his ultimate goal would be to rut wildly behind her while fucking her in the ass or pussy. All this, all her, all that. And all that Saharan was could be his.

His tactless advances just seemed to earn the ire of Saharan, and she soon developed a slight contempt for the simple-minded creature. All those times he'd grab at her ass, or drool over her cleavage each time she wore shirts that had plunging necklines, and even that time when she'd come home to her apartment to find him rummaging through her laundry hamper just made her want to wrench the annoying goblin limb from limb.

Griblet must have been in a dream-like state for he was jarred awake by Saharan snapping her fingers in front of his face, "Griblet... Griblet... Griblet...," and now gone once more were the naked images of Saharan, replaced by the sight of her leaning down in front of him so she'd be eye level with him, giving him the strange look, and that they were on the sidewalk before his daydreaming began.

"Griblet, are you awake?" Saharan asked drolly.

"Eh, wot? Oh yeah, I wuz jus' thinkin'," came the reply while scratching his head. He then stole a glance down the front of the elven girl's white blouse, though making a bad attempt at hiding it even.

Saharan smirked and stood up straight before asking in an irritated voice, "Well... what do you want?"

"Uhhh... uhhh... ummm, I jus' wonted ta know if uhhh... well it's like dis' ya see...," the goblin stammered, which tested the patience of the stressed girl before she finally interjected.

"Let me guess, you want to fuck me?" she asked, a bit more irritated right now but still projecting a tone of slack in her voice. It was seen in her eyes, her actions, her poise with hands on hips and right foot tapping impatiently on the pavement.

Griblet nodded furiously, even happily, even though through his thick skull, somewhere in his mind he'd forgotten he'd asked the same question repeatedly for the past year or so. "Griblet, I've lost count of how many times you've asked me that question, and I've lost count of how many times I've said no, and I've long run out of replies that I was sure would get through your skull, and now I don't even know what to do – whether I should cast some magic spell on you or simply use a mallet with the word 'no' on the flat part and hammer you right on the forehead with it," came the indignant reply, not only from her mouth but from her glaring eyes.

That tirade seemed in vain, as the goblin seemed to sink into deep pondering whilst eyes still obviously were unclothing the slinky elven girl that was standing right before him. Those kissable lips, those squeezable breasts, that nice waif-like hour glass figure concealed beneath that fitting outfit and the buried treasure that was just begging for attention between those shapely thighs, "Um, will yeh do's it wit' me if I payz ya?" he asked curiously. However, this question only seemed to infuriate the short-tempered girl, and she promptly marched up to the orc, never mind that her breasts were pressing up against his chest, and mercilessly twisted an ear between her strong fingers, much to the pain and agony of the simple-minded Griblet, who, for a moment, seemed to even smile when she saw her coming at him and press those wonderful mounds against his front, only to feel an unbearable pain on his right ear.

"If you think that I can be bought then I don't think you should even try talking to me!" the girl screamed at the orc while her hand twisted at the pointed tip of his right ear. She just snapped then and there, and un-stifled rage seemed to spill over from her eyes, drifting through the air before coming into contact with Griblet's very aura and causing him to squeal out in a shrill cry of pain and creeping fear.

"Ack! Ow! I got five hun'red!" the goblin blurted out in between cries of pain and bursts of confusion and helplessness, but what was said only seemed to enrage Saharan more, who promptly shoved him down on the sidewalk onto his ass and spun about on a heel. She pondered stomping a thin stiletto into his groin just for good measure, but thought the better of it and carried on.