by Stephanie Dellosa
The black carriage welded onto Ruth’s back so seamlessly and quickly that she didn’t even realize what had happened until the young man tried to enter but couldn’t because the door was stuck.
Ruth had instinctively skittered away from his grasping hand and felt the contraption move with her. She was first annoyed at the young man’s presumption, then surprised at what was attached to her body.
The young man was just as annoyed as she was, but not at all surprised.
“Aren’t you taking passengers?” He asked the air in her general direction.
Ruth looked at her profile reflected in the dark window of the building next to them. A small carriage of black wrought iron was indeed hitched to her, with two thin wheels and scrollwork of exquisite filigree decorating the sides. She felt her back, her fingers amazed at the way the iron fused with her spine. When Ruth moved, the carriage moved gracefully with her as if it were a natural appendage.
Ruth had never looked so elegant or interesting as she did with the sleek conveyance rising out of her back. It was light, but not so delicate that it couldn’t conduct a passenger.
She turned to the young man, saw that he was handsome and entitled. His linen suit was immaculate, no creases except where it had been pressed. He looked like he had places to go. His aristocratic manner would go well with her carriage.
There was just enough room for a man his size.
Ruth straightened her back.
“I can’t bear the burden,” she replied, then took off running, her carriage with her.
I graduated magna cum laude from U.C. Berkeley with a B.A. in English Literature. I've recently completed a commercial work of women's fiction and currently working on a travelogue. My work has appeared in Salome Magazine. Contact Stephanie.