Wealthy, 1/1, PG-13, Original, Prompt #21

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

Title: Wealthy
Fandom: Original
Prompt: #21 - Comics
Warnings: Kleenex. You need Kleenex. I almost cried writing this, okay?
Rating: PG-13
Summary: She never thought she'd earn this much wealth.

Wordcount: 1060

Okay, my muse is so to blame for this. I'd planned on writing more of my Spred, but...well...she got away from me. I'm sorry. She gets inspired in my Mythology class, but that ended tonight, so you should be good from now on. *hands out boxes of Kleenex now*

Also, concrit = love. Bring it on.

It didn't feel odd to be the wealthiest person in the world, nor did it feel lonely. She'd heard stories about the wealth making you isolated and alone, but she didn't feel that way. In fact, she felt the opposite: loved and cherished and with a bountiful amount of friends, more than she ever could've dreamed of having.

Her wealth hadn't been instantaneous; she remembered a time when she'd been abandoned, shunned, alone. Slowly but surely, however, she'd gained her wealth, amassed it and kept it well maintained. She'd been smart, and now, when she had the opportunity, she shared it. It wasn't going to do her much good sitting somewhere, gaining interest, if she didn't do something with it. This way, she earned it back plus more than any interest she might've gotten.

It felt good. She liked being wealthy; it opened doors she'd never imagined having been open to her before.

It had started simply: helping the local grocer every day with the fresh vegetables out near the street. Then, she'd helped someone learn to drive, and that had paid more and opened the doors to more opportunities. Slowly, surely, her wealth had grown.

The time it had grown the most, though, had been down on the corner. Delivering canned goods into the hands of a passerby might not have been a huge amount of wealth at first, but with kind words and a simple smile, it had grown into her largest amount of wealth yet. People had flocked from all over, knowing where to go to not just get the provisions they needed, but to also be warmed physically and emotionally.

It was hard these days to imagine a life without all of those people, her people. Jin the grocer down in Chinatown had been her first source of wealth. With his short stance but big heart, she'd learned how to earn her wealth and store it. She'd started attempting to gain that wealth for herself, and had suddenly found herself with more than she knew what to do with. “What am I supposed to do now?” she remembered asking Jin. “I-I wasn't expecting all of this so fast!”

“Share it, then,” Jin had replied. “There's always more to find later: share what you've earned now with others.”

So she had. Through that suggestion, she'd met David from across the road, Wendy up the street and down two blocks, the Farlain twins, Mrs. Evans, Sir Stanley, and from there, it had simply gotten better and better. By sharing her wealth, she'd more than tripled her original amount. She'd laughed and shared stories with them, and she'd felt accepted, cherished, loved. It was more than she ever thought she could've earned. Her, the little girl lost. But she'd done it.

She hadn't stepped on the heads of others to gain her wealth, either. No; her wealth had been earned with little steps of her accomplishments, of her own doings. Each step had taken her to a higher level and even more chances to earn wealth again.

Finally, now, she'd reached the top. The highest level of wealth, and she couldn't go any higher. She'd been given a gift that evening, a gift of the highest prize, and all of her wealth hadn't been able to pay for it. Still, she'd received it, and she would carry it with her wherever she went, just to show how wealthy she truly was. There were no more steps to be reached: this was her zenith, her pinnacle.

Or was it? Suddenly, she knew that she had one last step to take. A step she'd feared of taking for so long, a step she hadn't thought she'd been worthy of taking. With her wealth behind her, however, she could take it now with no fear or guilt. She wanted to take this step now, even.

All she had to do was reach up, and hands were there, taking her into a wealth she'd never known before.

The flashlight shown down into the alley, and Mark stepped inside, feeling the biting winds even through his coat the department issued to all the cops. It was a thick coat, with a nice lining inside, and he was still cold. Temperature kept dropping, too.

The light caught something, and he stepped over, cursing when he caught sight of two bare feet. “I need backup,” he radioed through, before coming around the boxes to the rest of the body that was curled up on the ground.

The skin was tinged blue, and he couldn't see her chest moving. A small girl who had probably almost reached being a woman, and now would never get the chance.

“Shit,” he heard muttered behind him, and Officer Darnell stepped around. “This is horrible. I hate findin' kids like this.”

Mark said nothing, but knelt down beside her. She was wrapped in newspapers, and he caught sight of faded comic strips wrapped around her shoulders, the humor in their boxes lost in the face of a young life gone.

Something beneath the faded papers caught his eye, and he reached in to where her hands were resting in her lap. He pulled out a cheap greeting card and opened it to find handwriting scrawled across the blank space. Welcome to the family; we love you! it said. Several different names were written in various styles and pens.

“Wasn't she the kid who got released a few months back after doing drugs?” Darnell said quietly. It wasn't said in a condescending tone: he was simply sharing knowledge.

Her face did look familiar, now that Mark thought about it. “Yeah. She was a miserable little thing.” He remembered how she'd snapped and snarled at them as they'd taken her to the rehab clinic for teens. When she'd left, she hadn't hissed at them, but her glares and sullen stares had spoken volumes.

“Never met an unhappier person in my entire life,” Darnell said. “It made me feel for her, you know?”

Mark nodded, glancing at her face now. Same freckles, same stringy blonde hair, but her lips, though blue, were turned up in a smile.

“I hope she got some happiness before...you know,” Darnell said, shifting uncomfortably.

Mark glanced down at the card in his hands, then back up at the young girl. “I think she did,” he said softly.

< --- >

This, for your knowledge, actually came from a discussion concerning African mythology and their many myths about towers being built to heaven and the world of their dead, which actually resided in the sky.

~Nebula

Comments

[dedra.livejournal.com]

I guess that it's only fair that you made me cry. Thank you. This was beautiful. Powerful and beautiful.

[dedra.livejournal.com]

And I use the Little Mermaid Icon because I think that you know the real story behind it, being the scholar that you are...

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

I did know the real story behind it, and as soon as I saw your icon, I thought of it and the statue in Copenhagen. I think that's how you spell it...

~Nebula

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

Thank you sweetie; and you did make me cry! Maybe my muse wanted retaliation. LOL ~_^

~Nebula

[lilithbint.livejournal.com]

you know you warned me but it didn't help *sniff*

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

I know, my warning wasn't all that helpful. *hands you a tissue*

Thank you for reading and commenting, though!

~Nebula

[umbralillium.livejournal.com]

*takes Kleenex and uses it thoroughly* *clings*

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

*wipes your tears away*

*clings back*

~Nebula

[jesterlady]

Trust you to use a comic prompt to write something so sad!

Good job, sweetie.

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

Yeah, really. Something that should be funny and I made a tear-jerker out of it. ~_^

Thanks sweetie,

~Nebula

[texanfan.livejournal.com]

Reminded me of the "Little Match Girl" which places you in excellent company. :)

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

Thank you thank you thank you! That story used to make me cry all the time, it was so well done and written. So thank you! ^_^

~Nebula

[sparrow2000.livejournal.com]

Very nicely done. Very poignant.

[sunnyd-lite.livejournal.com]

Actually I found it a happier version of the Little Match Girl as instead of wishes for what others had, given where she started, your narrator had a huge journey before her final steps.

Loved the protrayal of the cops, compassionate yet tired.

[thismaz.livejournal.com]

*teared up here* A journey of redemption and the promise of hope. I liked the cops and the way you used them to provide the context for the rest.

[tempestsreach.livejournal.com]

*sniffles* Fantastic but very sad.

About 3/4 of the way through I started to get the willies and whilst the story pulls you higher in delight and warmth you get this dreadful feeling that the world you are seeing is slightly out of kilter and what you are viewing is not quite what it seems. A very strong mentaly impacting story.