Third Draft - SMOKE AND FOG

[Fariha Khayyam]

Hey! okay phew, this week was unexpectedly busy yet exciting. I was paired with amazing CPs [Elizabeth Grant and Anthony Eden] who did a brilliant job at pulling my story apart  No seriously, once they were done I had 40 comments for my total 68 lines. A huge thank you to them!
What I fixed.

Both CPs pointed out some common things: sentence flow, word choice and overall tone that I wanted to keep in the story - and the areas where that tone often broke. Also, I initially felt the story is a bit rushed. While I was revising their comments and editing, the pace fixed itself (at least I hope so). Some plot-gaps were pointed out where I missed out explanations, etc. (because the story somehow makes sense in my head). At other places, there was a ton of repetition (because I write while drinking double-shot espresso).   
Also! My MC is a herbalist and Elizabeth helped in clearing some details as a fellow-herb-hobbyist. 
All in all, I had to work with rephrasing and really getting the story out of my head and on to the paper as smoothly as possible while maintaining the word limit! My second draft was 1k words, while editing based on the comments and simply writing, I ended up with 30 words over limit, so after some minor chopping I was back at 1000 words. 

SMOKE AND FOG

The nostalgic scent of the rain and the lull of the rain drops thundering atop my roof wrapped me in a warm blanket of memories - those that were painful now. I was far, far away from the ones who jumped in the puddles with me and the ones who dried my hair after I'd become fully drenched.

I jumped awake from the crashing sound of thunder. My eyes had remnants of dried tears. The candle had burned low and casted long shadows on the walls of the cabin. How long was I asleep? I thought. I stretched my bony arms, deeply inhaling the wood spice of the incense and coughed when the pungent burning smell struck my senses.

Nutmeg!

I jumped off the bed shaking its wooden frame, my anklets chimed in sync with my footsteps as I hopped to the counter where a concoction gently bubbled. It was a tonic to cure insomnia, made from raw honey, dried lavender and smoked nutmeg. It was my best-selling product, apparently the veil-dwellers had trouble sleeping just as much as humans. Regardless, it was a hassle to make and so I prepared large batches to last a long time. Nutmeg to be first crushed, smoked, grinded and then finally to be infused in warm honey. My batch had gone beyond the useful tint of smokiness. Grunting, I threw it away. The wind howled - a wailing cry that rattled my bones.

I lit another candle and went toward the only shuttered window that I had in my single room dwelling. I forced it open against the wind and breathed the petrichor, smiling to myself. Why did I feel more alone during rainy days? The mountains in the distance were barely visible in the dense fog. The night was quickly consuming the ever-changing colors of dusk. Another gust of wind plastered the raindrops on my face and a memory of my mum resurfaced, Aarohi, you'll get sick in the rain!

Every day, during dusk an animal would perch near the large oak tree in front of my cabin.  I had eventually realized these animals were from beyond the veil - and they weren't animals at all. They were shape-shifting Djinn - all with the same unblinking orange eyes. This time it was a cat with fur dark as coal.

"Do you want to come in?" I called out to the cat, above the sound of the rain. Another one of my mum's caution rang in my head. Aarohi, How many times have I told you, never, ever look or stray outside when it's dusk and dawn! With a scoff, I closed the window.

Mum always talked in a hushed voice. She was scared, superstitious, and perhaps overprotective. I was not one to get spooked easily. Much to her distress, I was the only child with the sight. Sight to see beyond the veil - the veil that becomes the thinnest during dusk and dawn. I wiped my face and returned to my counter. Working methodically, I prepared another batch of nutmeg.

The sight not only gave me the ability to see the veil-dwellers but also to cure ailments by perfecting the tonic to the illness by adding the person's hair, nail or even blood. This made me a master herbalist both in the human realm and beyond the veil. There weren't a lot of people who knew about herbs and even less so who had the sight.

The sight, however, also made me hang out with dead children and have animal spirits as pets when I was younger, although I'm not able to cross over to their realm. This pushed my mum to the brink of derangement and led the village to banish me to the Spirit Mountains at the age of thirteen.

A knock boomed at my door making me flinch out of my daze. Another knock sounded and I called out while re-doing my messy bun, "I'm coming! Enter quickly!" I fixed my emerald gown and then opened the door.

A man walked in, drenched to the bone and trembling. There was no way a human would venture out in this weather, it had to be a veil-dweller. I quickly closed the door and passed him a towel. He wiped his hair with the towel while his wet clothes dried on their own accord. Once done, he passed the towel back making eye contact with me. His eyes were shimmering shades of gold. "Thanks", he said in a calming, lullaby voice.

My heart raced in my ribcage; I had recognized these eyes. They were the same ones from the crow last week, and the cat just now. Darkness rippled from his tan skin. Wait, that isn't darkness, it's black smoke. In the two decades since my banishment and living with the sight on these mountains, this was the first time I saw a Djinn in a human-form.

"Uh-um, crazy weather right!" I said awkwardly, "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Aarohi" He smiled. "I've been watching you."

With nervous energy, I busied my hands to crush the nutmeg. A thousand thoughts buzzed my head trying to remember any advice Mum had given me, or any instant when I might have insulted a veil-dweller.

The djinn wandered around my house taking in the jars that neatly lined the walls, the still-warm bed, the table littered with notes and diagrams, and the counter where I stood. He came up behind me, his black smoke pooling around my feet, drowning the cabin.

I fisted my hands and spun on my heels. "Have I offended you?"

"All this time, you've been calling me to come inside, haven't you?"

With a sinking feeling I remembered my mum's final warning; Always wait for them, never speak first to a veil-dweller or they will become irreversibly tied to you.

I had.

My breath hitched as his arms wrapped around me.

"I've come to take you with me." he whispered.

I remember his smile before darkness erupted around me.