Shells

      It was her escape from a dreary life as a serving maid. Normally, she spent her mornings washing sheets and dishes and scrubbing floors. Her afternoons were spent helping the cook or fetching things for customers. But when she hid away with a good book, her master, Winton, would shout and scream for her to get out and work, but he never could find her hiding place. Try as he might, he couldn't get her to come out until the evening rush. He always threatened to fire her, but she had learned something from the cook that dissolved that fear. Winton wouldn't fire her, because she was the best serving maid who'd ever worked cheap. Well, hopefully, if everything went as Lola wished, she wouldn't be in this crummy tavern much longer. She might be in the great cities, learning and reading.

      Finally, when the grandfather clock directly outside her niche chimed six o'clock, she slipped a bit of paper into the book to mark her place, carefully placed it in its spot on her homemade bookshelves, and crawled out. As usual, no one was around, so she scurried toward the kitchen to get ready, straightening her rumpled brown skirt.

      Later that night, Lola was surveying the customers when she saw a stranger come in. She'd never seen him before, and the moment he stepped into the tavern, Lola could tell he was different. He spoke very little and ordered only a small mug of chokato grog with some bread, cheese, butter, and meat. When he did speak, he was soft-spoken and polite, which Lola didn't know how to deal with. She could handle three customers a night who'd had a bit too much fresh-brewed nut grog, but kindness? Lola didn't know how to react to that.

      She watched him quietly from her corner where she rested for a few moments. He was depressed but clearly not lonely, for his thoughts flew across his face as fast as they did through his mind. His mug was drained but he took no notice of it. Thankfully, he was seated in a far corner away from where the roughest customers usually sat and was in no danger of being bothered.

      He was handsome, but that wasn't what drew her. His thick yellow Lupe fur was hidden by a swathed black cloak, and his rugged features included a scar jaggedly cutting across his face. No, it wasn't his looks that drew the young Kacheek. It was the aura of mystery that pulled her toward him.

      "Can I get ye anythin' more, sir?" Lola asked politely as she hurried over to the stranger's table.

      "No, but thank you," he replied softly, taking his last bite of cheese. "I'd best be off now."

      "Couldn't you stay just a little while longer?" Lola blurted out.

      He eyed her questioningly. "I suppose…"

      Lola gathered up his plate and mug and scampered off to another table, calling loudly over her shoulder, "You worry nothin' about it. It's almost closing time here at the Bronze Mug."

      Groans arose from the far side of the room as most of the customers rose, slammed down their mugs and dubloons, and headed for their final stop, The Golden Dubloon, to squander the rest of their money. Lola sighed and quickly piled everything onto her tray, brushing a strand of her red fur out of her brown eyes. Soon, the Bronze Mug was silent, except for the clinking of forks against the plates of the final customers. At last, only the stranger was left, and Lola crept over toward his table.

      Sliding into a chair with easy grace, the Kacheek demanded, "Now, I been wondering all night what you're doing here. You're not a pirate; your manners show that. You're not a tourist, or you would be down at the Golden Dubloon. You're the only person who's ever been so polite with me, and I'd like to know what makes ye do that."

      The stranger laughed softly, his blue eyes sparkling faintly. "You don't even know who I am, and yet you demand to know things that might be personal?"

      Lola blushed. "Sorry. I just been livin' in a tavern too long to really, well, ye know..."

      "I understand. My name's DestinyX, but most people just call me Destiny."

      "Lola."

      Destiny shook paws with Lola and leaned back in his chair sighing. "You ask me what makes me so different, eh?"

      "Yes," Lola whispered.

      "I had an owner, once, many long months ago. He abandoned me because of this scar, and I've been living on my own ever since. Mostly here, on Krawk Island, near the beach."

      "Why?" Lola was intrigued. "The storms always strike the coast hardest, and I've never seen any proper homes."

      Destiny chuckled. "You call this a proper home for a young lady like you? You ought to be gettin' educated, not serving in a tavern."

      Lola drew herself up proudly and tossed her long red bangs back. "I know how ta read 'n' write. I've even gots my own books in my special spot. I'm not gonna be here fer much longer, Destiny. I've almost got enough neopoints to head off to school in Neopia Central. Whoo, even sayin' that name makes me tingle." Lola's brown eyes sparkled with excitement. "Can ye imagine, goin' ta such a big ol' city place?"

     Destiny shrugged. "It's not much really," he said dismally, staring into the bottom of his empty mug. "But, anyway, I live in a cave and walk on the beach every night. I don't honestly understand what draws me to the beach, but the closest I can tell it's the shells."

      Lola had seen the shells on many occasions. They were dull colors, unlike the shells of Maraqua which had been seen floating around in shops. These were unimpressive and nearly worthless, only collected by the occasional thrifty tourist. What could possibly be attractive about those?

      Destiny looked deep into Lola's eyes. "You don't think that those shells are very important, do you?" Lola shook her head. "They are to me, because I can relate to them. My life has been like a shell: boring and common. It's easily washed in by the waves and swept back out again. I can't stop the flowing tide, but I can cling to what I know with all the strength I have. Yet that alone won't save me. Life is unpredictable, Lola. I can't control the future."

      Lola was silent for a moment then said, "Do ye think, maybe, that you're just…"

      "I...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you that," Destiny said abruptly, standing up so fast his chair fell over. Marching over to the door, he tossed Lola a dubloon and slipped out. The red Kacheek sat stunned for a moment before standing up and picking up the flimsy wooden chair that a moment before held the shell of a Lupe...

      Outside, freezing rain pelted the windows. Black clouds covered the moon. An icy wind whipped anything within its reach, but a lone figure stood atop a cliff, braving the lightning and daring the storm to do its worst. For an instant the clouds parted, and a silvery moon reflected in the tearful eyes of a Lupe named Destiny.

      What had possessed him? Why had he gone and done that? That Kacheek didn't need his philosophies of life and pain. She was smarter than most and deserved better than what she was getting...Destiny sighed suddenly and retreated from the cliff. His perspective wasn't for her. She needed to be schooled properly, not stay on this lonely island serving pirates.

      A faint smile glittered in another flash of lightning. Perhaps he could help...

      Understanding pain is a way to cast off a shell.

The End