Member-only story
Untouchable
A Short Story
“You are a pearl little girl,” said the hag on the road.
Mahira hadn’t been called “girl” in quite some time. She balanced the tray of food carefully on her cart, pushing it into the bazaar.
“Wait,” said the hag. She reached into her filthy satchel and extracted a stone. Her muddy fingers extended it to Mahira. The young woman cringed, and her nose crinkled at the sight of the hag’s fingernails. Jagged, stuffed with dirt.
She walked reluctantly closer, willing herself to look at the red ruby seated in the center of the offerer’s wrinkled palms.
“This is for you,” the hag smiled with teeth yellow and breath rancid. Mahira swallowed her disgust and smiled with discomfort.
“It’s okay. Thank you,” she said softly. Why would she take a gemstone from an indigent?
“A ruby for a pearl. It’s poetic,” the hag nudged the stone toward her.
“I can’t. I think you should sell it. Maybe you can get some money,” Mahira urged.
“I am selling it,” the old woman smiled widely. “I see you each day, carrying a tray of your cooking to town. The delectable smell fills my nose as you walk past. I am not allowed where you sell it due to my station. Can you set aside a plate for me? Let’s say, for one month?”
