Maria

• Claire Gale, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2015

Rain soaked figures hurried along the bleak avenue, fleeing the electrical storm whose thunder occasionally caused one of their number to look around hurriedly. It was a Thursday, and today, central London was experiencing some of the worst weather it had ever encountered.

As the storm worsened, many of the business men and women hurried to find shelter, but for the brave few who were better equipped for the season, and who had thought to bring umbrellas and raincoats.

Aboard the train on which an old woman was seated, the storm was muffled somewhat, with only the dull pounding of rain and the occasional clap of thunder audible. Looking out the window into the driving sheets of rain, the woman’s slate grey eyes narrowed, and she hissed a curse, not having packed appropriate wet weather items. The old woman, Maria, hobbled to her feet as the announcement was made that the train had arrived at King’s Cross station. As the carriage halted in its terminal, Maria stepped carefully down on to the platform, clasping her primp white bag closer to her chest with wrinkled and spotted hands.

She duly noted a rough looking young man eyeing her conspicuously, looking her up and down under the guise that he was reading a timetable. The old woman headed away from him, wandering out of the station and into the heavy rain. After making her way a few blocks into the city, Maria fumbled, and dropped her little purse. Cursing her clumsiness, she turned around to pick it back up, and started. The edges of panic began to constrict her chest as she saw the young man from the station wandering along the side of the alley behind her, scuffing worn shoes against cracks in the pavement.

Maria’s hand tightened on an item inside her purse as she picked it back up: a small can of pepper spray that had been gifted to her the previous Christmas by the very person she was going to see. She turned away from the man to continue walking in the hopes that he would eventually grow tired of pursuing her. After all, she didn’t exactly look like the richest woman in London. The only item of value that she carried was concealed in her grey shawl.

The streets gradually emptied of people as she continued walking, and Maria heard the thief hasten his steps. She hefted her can, and as he approached, whirled and sprayed at where she judged the assailant’s eyes would be.

But he was not there.

The old woman’s eyes widened as she felt a pressure on the back of her abdomen, and she wonderingly fingered the short blade that now protruded from her front. The can of pepper spray fell to the ground and rolled a small distance, as Maria sighed and collapsed into the waiting arms of a regretful thief. He reached under her shawl, carefully pulling out the marble sized relic that he had murdered the 81 year-old woman for.