Arms for the Poor?


For how long had I been watching that house, perched upon the cliff overhead?

For how long had I stood in the shadows, unnoticed, waiting for the right time to appear?

Now was the time.


I managed to open the door by backing all my weight against it and went inside.

A huge croud of people---if you could even call them all people, which you really couldn't--stood together in the middle of the room. One of them held an orb of fire above their hand, and another wore a scarf of water around their neck. They all stared at me in shock. That meant that I had indeed taken them by surprise.

"Please..." I wish I had had arms to hold out to them, to seem more desparate, but I didn't--which, ironically, was why I was more desperate.

"Good Misfits," I struggled to say, "I am only a poor abandoned girl, without arms to call her own. You have no idea how tedious it is to travel around without arms, even if you HAVE the magic aid to guide you. Please, could you spare some food? Some shelter? Some arms?"

"A-arms?" A girl comes towards me looking confused. "All are welcome in the hideout for misfit characters, have no arms to spare you."

I nodded to a couple of creatures each with two extra limbs sprouting out of their sides. "You have never wanted to rid yourself of those?"

They backed away from me.

"Arms, arms for the poor?"

The End

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