Terralux

Chapter 1: Sloth City

"I should've brought a flashlight," I thought to myself.

My sketchbook was heavy as it shifted in my left hand. I clutched the pencil in my right, partially for balance, and partially for use as a weapon. 

If both if my hands hadn't been occupied, I would've been fiddling with my bracelet that currently jangled up and down my wrist as I stalked through the dark. I did this only when I was most nervous. 

My bracelet was made up of a thin rectangle of metal, each end of its string knotted through a hole on each side of this metal. The metal itself was engraved with the word "LUXOR", my unusual and foreign last name. Six small stones slipped up and down the string whenever I walked. They were each very ornamental; some opaque and others partially transparent. There was the aqua-green that boasted the clean feeling of being underwater, the soft yellow-orange and purple that reminded me of a new sunset, the faded gray of the sky that foretold a relentless storm; the bright, unreal green of anything in nature when the sun shone directly onto it, and my favorite of all; the fresh, soft white that you can only imagine an angel's wings would be.  

There were many reasons why I loved this color so. This color meant purity. This color meant peace. This color meant safety. This color meant light.  

But not even the light that my bracelet brought me could withstand the darkness of the night sky in Sloth City. Maybe anywhere else it could, but not there. It didn't matter. I knew what I had gone there to do, and I was going to do it. 

Sloth City was an elusive, dark, and most importantly, dangerous neighborhood of closed and forgotten shops, homes, and buildings. About a ten minute walk from my home in New York City, I pass by it quite often, but have never dared to enter, even during the day. 

It gets its society-given name from the lazy, nocturnal tree animal, because in the day, it's inactive and dead; almost like a ghost town. Of course, in the night, it comes alive with gangs, dealers, prostitutes, and a bunch of people who should just be locked up for the good of humanity. And yes, they might have been locked up if it weren't for the fact that not even the NYPD had the influence to take down all the thugs there.  

So what was I doing in Sloth City, you may ask? What business could a small, mild-mannered fifteen-year-old girl possibly have in this nest of criminals? None. 

However, I did have business with one of the old, decrepit buildings there. From the roof of the tallest one, also known as the Block for its simple, cube-like form; located in the heart of Sloth City, was the best view possible of the Empire State Building. 

At least, that's what I thought. And I wanted almost nothing more than to capture it in my sketchbook. I only knew what it looked like from looking at photos taken by someone who was once one of the city's many sloths. 

But tonight, it was my turn to bring the Empire State home with me. I was about halfway to the invisible gates of the neighborhood, and despite the slipperiness of sweat on my pencil and the light trembling of my legs, I kept going. Thinking of home helped me drown out the danger emanating from my current situation. 

It was like something my mom had told me when I was younger. I'd always had long, curled eyelashes, and I often had them falling into my eyes. When I didn't have access to a mirror, trying to blink the lashes away was painful. 

So, my mom told me to pinch my arm. Focusing on another pain or sensation took your mind off the pain at hand. It was a bonus of the human nervous system; being able to shift attention from one feeling to another. 

I used this method tonight. Warding away the danger and fear of walking the streets of Sloth City by thinking about the danger and fear of getting caught. Not to mention my location, but it was about 11:30 at night, and my curfew was an unwavering ten.