Ashes Of The Phoenix. Jane Fade Merrick

      The next morning, Fade woke up in the comfortable bed of the private two room apartment they had rented. She stretched out and slipped out of the thick duvet, and sat in awe on the mattress; for her it had always been a struggle to get out of the warm bed of her shelter to face the cold mornings; waking up and finding herself in a warm and comfortable environment brought back memories she had lost many years earlier.

      She slipped on the skates she had left at the foot of her bed and skated to the window. She was wearing flannel pyjamas, prepared by the owners of the apartment.

      The noisy traffic beyond the glass didn’t seem different from that of the place she had left the previous night; she could hardly believe that just a few hours earlier she had been in a different geographical area.

      Already feeling as though she was in a small cage, she decided to go out. She washed and dressed quickly and in the bathroom she found some cans of hair wax, probably placed there on Jag's order. Quite a while later, the door handle lowered and the girl emerged into a hallway covered with grey carpets and adorned by pictures with golden frames. The redhead couldn’t wait to leave that place, and she moved towards the only door beyond hers, in the hallway.

      Once she passed that threshold, she found herself in a large hall in which, from behind a circular desk placed in the middle of the room, a girl welcomed her. “Good morning. I have a message for you from the young Master.”

      She approached her and took the note she handed her. The message was clearly from Jag: in addition to having an awful handwriting, it was all decorated with childish designs and incomprehensible writings, and it had oil stains all over it, as if he had written it while he was eating potato chips.

      After a long while in which she tried to decipher the contents of the message, she realized that he was giving her an appointment. “I’ll meet you at 11 am at the lions' square. Jag”.

      â€œAnd how the hell am I supposed to know where that is!” She blurted, thinking out loud, and then she realized she had raised her voice a little too much.

      She was thoughtful for a few minutes. She had no idea of what time it was, so she looked around in search of answers and on one wall she saw a set of clocks set on the different times of the world's capitals, until she found the clock showing their time. It was only 08:30 am.

      â€œIf I can help you,” the receptionist interrupted the silence “The young Master has ordered a taxi for you.”

      Those words annoyed her, she didn’t need a baby sitter, nor did she want to feel indebted towards someone.

      â€œNo, thanks, I’ll get around by myself,” she replied, “I just need a map of the city.”

      A few minutes later the girl was outside in the crazy traffic, holding a large map on which were indicated only the starting point and the point of arrival of her trip. She tried to memorize some of the main streets but gave up shortly afterwards, the place was so full of people walking back and forth that it was almost impossible for her to skate. She had always been accustomed to a much wider living space, because the people in her neighbourhood made sure to stay far away from her when she was around. In that city, however, she was nobody, a perfect stranger: “and not even particularly outstanding” she thought, crossing a group of punks seated on some secluded steps. Her thoughts were giving her a headache, so she decided to walk through secondary roads. There, the streets were definitely less trafficked and she could move faster.

      The search for the place she needed to reach was very unnerving but at least she didn’t have time to think about the life she had left. At times, it even seemed to her to be walking along familiar roads, she stopped every now and then to look at the overflowing windows of some Arabian shop with the temptation to go in and steel something, because she was starving. She cursed Jag for letting her to get used to eating early in the morning.

      She stood still in front of a store remembering those days, and then she shook herself, deciding not to think about them, focusing her attention on the items in front of her.

      On a side shelf, lying between multi-coloured diaries, one with a black cover and shiny Gothic accentuated designs stood out. The girl couldn’t help but feel a connection between her and that object in that exact situation. Then she skated away.

      Over two hours later, she found herself in a large square full of pigeons. She hated pigeons; she couldn’t stand the sight of them since she had seen a group of them fighting over a fried chicken thigh on the ground. She also hated fried chicken, which is why that disgusting association of 'fried cannibalism' aroused her disgust for birds.

      Suddenly she heard Jag calling her from afar, his voice was accompanied by the noise of flapping wings from a large group of birds. Turning around, she saw the boy sitting on the back of a large lion's statue; his waving had scared all the birds around him. She reluctantly skated toward him, banging her skates noisily to get rid of the wretched animals that blocked her road, but they just flew a few yards further and continued to peck the ground; others flew around her head making her feel under the attack of an enemy fleet.

      When she reached the boy she was quite bemused. He cheerfully drew bread crumbs from a paper bag and threw them to the birds; he even had a pigeon on his head. Fade solemnly decided that from that day onward she wouldn’t even touch him again.

      The boy threw the crumbs far away and all the birds disappeared, as if they had been tied with invisible threads to the paper bag and had been dragged away with it, then he slid off the metal body of the statue and enthusiastically reached her.

      â€œI guess you didn’t take the taxi,” he said, looking at the wrinkled map in the girl's hands.

      â€œI prefer managing on my own,” she replied proudly.

      â€œCome on, I'll bring you to a special place!” He said running off and raising a column of pigeons with his feet, which dropped back to the ground, creating a sort of grey ‘wave’.

      Shortly later, they found themselves in a narrow pub with wood panelled walls. Behind the counter, a hearty man was about to cut some meat for a sandwich.

      â€œThis is the best kebab in the city. Come on, let’s eat, I'm starving!” He said as he approached the man. She followed him, uncertain as to trust him or not, but her stomach left her without a doubt: she was also starving.

      â€œIbrahim!” The boy called. The man turned suspiciously but then he glowed at the sight of the pink bob.

      â€œJag, you're back! Is it me or have you shrunk?” He kidded him.

      â€œYou're the one who got fatter, you nut head!” The child replied with a hint of animosity in his eyes; the man noticed his look and tried to calm him. “Sorry, sorry, I was just kidding! I’ll make you a nice sandwich!”

      â€œAlright,” he cut him short, still visibly angry, but then his mood changed. “This is Fade!”

      â€œGood morning Miss,” Ibrahim countered, with his back turned as he cut some more meat. “Good morning,” she echoed, weakly.

      â€œIbrahim, I'm going to wash my hands, I’ll have the usual” the boy ordered, heading toward a dark door, through which he disappeared.

      After minutes of endless silence, the man turned around holding a stuffed sandwich in his hand. “What do you want?” He asked seriously. “What do you mean?” She replied suspiciously. “What do you want in your sandwich? You can add any of the ingredients I have here,” he said, pointing with a movement of his eyes to some bowls sunk into the counter, full of weird slops. She looked at them disgustedly. “That's all!” And she grabbed the huge sandwich he offered her.

      The man took a lit cigarette, abandoned on a corner of the counter, and dropped a long line of ash.

      â€œYou