Aasha - A Short Story

I can feel the rumbling of the wheels on the train tracks before I see the train.

“Get to it, Lewis. Unless you want to be run over by the train when it arrives,” says Rita, her foot tapping nervously on the train platform above me. It’s a chilly night, and our stomachs are empty. The station is deserted, and both of us wanted to get this over with.

Rita is my partner-in-crime. We met when we were four years old when I was a hungry kid on the streets, and she was the daughter of the most influential man in the city.

It was such a scandal when we ran away to start a life of crime together.

Not that we’re dating or anything. Definitely not.

“Lewis!” she snaps.

I’m Lee, by the way. Don’t call me Lewis. That’s Rita’s thing.

I kneel and examine the sides of the platform. It’s made of metal, making it difficult to manipulate. “Metal,” I call out. She groans.

“Where else can we hide the goods?”

This is one of our train heists. This train carries silk and perfume from foreign countries, to be sold at the World Expo. We hide it out in the station until we can sell it off bit by bit.

“The rafters?”

Below the domed ceiling, were crisscrossing wooden rafters. Most stations in York were broken down or incomplete. She bit her lip. “I don’t know. That’s risky. We’ll need to find a good spot.” She kneeled and extended her hand. I took it, and she yanked me up from the train tracks.

“Can’t you do your,” I wiggle my fingers, “Magic-y thing, and find a good spot?”

She gave me a look.

“It’s not magic, Lee.”

“You can move rocks with your mind. That’s magic enough for me,” I say jokingly.

She smirks, her dark hair fluttering slightly in the breeze. A stray curl lies on her cheek, and I want to push it away—my hand curls into a fist. Rita didn’t even know how beautiful she was. And she wasn’t beautiful the way others were. She was beautiful in the way she snorted when she laughed, in the way she fought, tooth and nail.

“I’m going to try and go up. Keep watch,” she said and threw her jacket at me. She pulled out a rope from her satchel and lassoed it to the nearest beam. She turned to me, her stardust-gold eyes twinkling, and then she ran and jumped – swinging to the opposite wall. She pushed off from it, her feet leaving indentations in the stone. She turned to the rafter and balanced on it.

She continued her journey to the top, using the wood and stone to her advantage. Rita had an unusual gift – she could manipulate different elements of the earth, bend it to her will.

The train whistled as it approached, and it groaned to a halt, the wheels screeching. The crew grumbled and pulled open the car doors, unloading the crates. I walked upto the last car, and clapped a hand over the mouth of the crew member unloading it, and knocked him out with a clean hit on his neck.

Rita had taught me that technique. There were places on the human body that could knock you out in one clean strike. That way, there’s no harm, no foul.

I drag him inside the car and throw open the crate. Sure enough, there are piles of silk and jewels. My heart hammered in his chest.

Now comes the hard part.

I heard Lewis’ sharp, sweet whistle echo through the station. I close my eyes, concentrating on finding his energy. I found him instantly, inside one of the train cars. It always felt as if I was drawn to him, that I felt tired, and spent when I wasn’t around him.

His hands were on a crate. Brilliant.

I eased up the crate, my eyes still closed. It was always odd, manipulating materials from so far. It was as if I was in two places at once. The crate moved out of the car, and up, up, higher until it was hovering next to me. I was dripping with sweat. Remote manipulation made me dizzy.

But I wasn’t done yet. I moved it above a thick, wide beam, and lowered it, gently.

It wobbled, but balanced.

I let out a huge breath.

The train whistled, and left, rumbling.

I turned to the crate and lifted it again. But my concentration wavered, and the box slipped from my grasp.

It crashed through the wooden rafters, making the entire building rumble. I scrambled for it, but I couldn’t grasp it. Tremors filled the station. It was falling apart.

I jumped down, not bothering with a rope. I landed on the platform, and spread my arms wide, standing in a stable stance, trying to keep the building from collapsing.

My necklace bounced in the hollow of my throat. Lewis never knew why I had left my privileged life to become a criminal. He didn’t know that my mother was one of the infamous daofei, that she was forced to marry my father. He didn’t know how she had taken her life than spend the rest of her life with him.

The necklace was the last thing I had of her. It was silver, with a single etching on it – the only testament to my Indian culture.

Aasha.

Aasha meant hope. It meant faith. When I left home, I put all my aasha in Lewis, and he put his in mine. We were each other’s hope. We were inseparable. We were strong. Nothing could break us.

I tried cemented the broken beams, trying to stop the ceiling from caving in, but my grip faltered. Debris continued to fall.

“Lewis!” I screamed, “Get out of here!”

“No!” he yelled, “Not without you!”

“If I go, the building will collapse. We will both die. Get out!”

Lewis ran towards me, his hazel eyes glowing with determination. He scooped me up, just as my grip on the building faltered for good. My head spun. All I felt was Lewis’ hands around me as he ran. But he wouldn’t survive. Neither of us would.

“Lewis,” I murmured, weakly.

“Escape now, talk later!” he whispered, “Hold on, Rita. For me.”

And so I did.

The night air filled my lungs the second before the station collapsed. We entered a back alley, and I stumbled, falling. Rita’s head was on my lap. She smiled, and put her hand around my neck and kissed me.

“Hold on to me,” she whispered.

And so I did.

#shortstory #teaandthoughts #writing