Mastodawn

Dreams of The Mad Frank: Part 1 The Flag Lady

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#Wss366 Flesh #MastoPrompt Inadaquet

The beggar woman sat in a shaded corner. Her cheeks were sallow from her #inadaquet diet of rice, wild grasses, and scraps that people left her. Years of poverty had eaten away at her #flesh until she appeared to be little more than a skeleton under many layers of her tattered robes.

As people walked by, she held out a bowl containing a few stray coins. Accustomed as they were to beggars, her missing arm evoked little sympathy. It was better not to notice beggars.

Her eyes remained dull until children happened by, and then she came alive. From her robes, she would produce bright strings of flags with a dexterity that belied her emaciation. If the parents looked to have money, she produced a dove to delight the child. This might secure her a few more coins, which she would carefully hide to avoid being robbed. The courtesans of Verdigris House and neighboring brothels called her The Flag Lady or just Flag.

Truthfully, she did well at her trade—both of them.

All the time she sought alms, she kept a close watch on “The Mad Frank,” noting anyone who spoke to him. But when Maomao appeared, Flag lowered her head and ceased performing. “Alas, I am too feeble,” she would moan.

In the evening, a man who was half-jokingly referred to as the street steward and his son came by to collect his share. The beggar would perform a few tricks for the son and conclude by saying, “Nothing more.” If anyone had cared to watch closely, the sum she passed the father had little to do with the amount she earned: one, two, three, or four coins. The amount varied not in proportion to her income, but to the number of visitors The Frank had.

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NaraMoore ⛩️👻八尺様👻⛩️ at Fedi Mar 2

The Mad Frank's Dreams: Part 2 Coin Trick

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#Wss366 Forlorn #MastoPrompt Mush

Days passed. Rumors that the Moon Prince had been ill arose and then subsided. On this particular day, a #forlorn rain fell. Few people were out to tread the #mushy churned road, yet both Flag and The Mad Frank were plying their trade. The former sought aid from passersby, while the latter sought to save their souls. Neither was having any luck.

Late morning came, and one of The Frank's few "regulars" stopped to speak with him. Soon after, The Frank disappeared, and then the beggar vanished as well.

She was back by evening to do tricks for the street steward’s son. Among these, she extracted a larger coin than usual from the boy’s ear. “Ah, Flag sees you’re holding out on the boss,” she said, and passed the coin to the father, being careful not to reveal the note hidden behind it.

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NaraMoore ⛩️👻八尺様👻⛩️ at Fedi

The Mad Frank's Dreams: Part 3 Street Trouble

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#Wss366 Derelict

Neither the sun nor The Frank's hyperbolic ranting could explain the traffic on the street the next day. Flag had an uneasy feeling about the thugs who hung out on one corner and the #derelicts who chose that section of the street to pass out on.

Verdigris House would clean them out before opening for business. In the meantime, they smelled of trouble. She considered going to the brothel, but that would blow her cover, or leaving to get help, but what if something happened while she was gone? In the end, she stayed put, keeping watch.

Noon came, bringing the promise of the morning’s leftover rice or perhaps even a steamed bun, should a courtesan feel generous. The brothels were preparing for the workday to begin, and soon they would sweep the street of riffraff. Part of what she paid the street steward earned her the right to remain.

A figure wove in and out of the crowd, then darted down the alley next to Verdigris House that led to Maomao’s apothecary shop.

Flag stirred uneasily, then stood up when the drunkards rose suddenly in unison. Jinshi had been right to worry that a plot aimed at Maomao was afoot.

She had barely taken three steps when a hand landed on her shoulder. “My, my, isn’t the Flag Lady suddenly spry?”

She turned and grabbed the hand of a pale-haired foreigner. He screamed; his wrist now bent at an obscene angle.

At the edge of her vision, she saw Mao exit the alley with the stranger who had gone in.

The man’s companion reached up a sleeve. The blur of a sap was the last thing she saw before pain exploded in her head and darkness descended.

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NaraMoore ⛩️👻八尺様👻⛩️ at Fedi Mar 10

The Mad Frank's Dreams: Part 4 Kidnapped

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#Wss366 Gape #MastoPrompt Loose

The beggar awoke thinking, “Chue’s head hurts.”

Stars danced at the edge of her vision, and her head pounded while nausea clawed at her belly. “She’s lucky, that’s all it is!” Being hit in the head was no joke.

She opened her eyes a slit. She wasn’t sure it would be wise to let people know she was awake yet. The room was dim, with the only light coming from a gap in the boards covering the window. She thought she could pry the boards #loose, but that would make a racket.

Dust danced in a light beam that pierced the gloom. The straw mat under her was old but dry. When she moved her head gingerly, an explosion of pain shot through it, the world spun, and she nearly vomited, but she remained conscious.

#Gaping, she saw a crude drawing of a man being crucified on the wall. A glow surrounded his head, while celestial women heralded his death. She recognized it as a religious drawing from a foreign land. “Chue remembers! The Frank raves about how ‘he’ died for our sins.” It was a sluggish thought, but it made sense under the circumstances.

Below the painting was a bed, but from her angle, she couldn’t tell if it was occupied.

Another painful motion of her head brought the opposite wall into view, a bare wall with a door in it.

“No one,” Chue said, sitting up.

Now, she could see that there was someone in the bed, covered by a thin blanket. "Chue knows who this is," she said, clicking her tongue. "Chue has failed."

“But I should check.”

There were no surprises under the blanket, only Maomao breathing shallowly, a gash in her forehead.

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NaraMoore ⛩️👻八尺様👻⛩️ at Fedi 3d ago

The Mad Frank's Dreams: Part 5 The Room

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#Wss366 Feature

Dizziness overtook Chue, and she sank back down onto the straw mat. She began breathing the way she had been taught: in and out, focusing on a point in the center of her belly.

The pain in her head ebbed until it was a dull ache she could ignore. “Things are never as hopeless as they seem,” she reminded herself. True, The Mad Frank’s friends had kidnapped both Maomao and her, but Mao was still alive, and their captors had placed them in the same cell. Surely those were omens of good fortune. The gods must have been smiling on her.

She climbed to her feet and checked on Mao. Lifting one eyelid, she saw that the pupil was dilated. She hoped it was due to drugs, but the gash on Mao's temple made that seem unlikely.

Next, she examined the door. It was solid, and even if she forced it open, she would only escape into hostile, unknown territory. Next came the window. Three meters in front of her was a #featureless wall. Peering up, she could see the sky deepening into darkness. Below, she could see the edge of a rubbish-strewn alley.

Examining the boards followed. They groaned and gave slightly when tested. If she used her full weight, she should be able to remove one and then use it as a lever. That would be noisy. She wondered how long it would take the guards to arrive. Probably not as long as she’d need to make her escape.

She looked back at Mao and abandoned the idea of escaping through the window. The chances of success were slim to begin with, but they vanished if she had to carry an unconscious person.

That left her with only two options: out-talking or overpowering her captors. It was in the hands of the gods, she thought.

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