HELLO GOOD CITIZENS. I'm l33, and I write. (Obviously.) I've been putzing about and commenting, partially to get myself in the habit because I can be total pants about comments and I would prefer not to be.

This is the first in a series called Stand and Deliver!, which will continue until I run out of ideas or until it jumps the shark. Stories are not in chronological order, though I may figure a rough timeline out one of these days. Stand and Deliver! is set in the eighteenth century, in the fictional East European country of Sékor, which has been reduced to a province under a non-Slavic empire. Despite this, Sékor does not border the real world. (Its neighboring country, Nastrána, apparently does, because my brain is weird.) I think that's pretty much all the background material, at least as it currently exists.

I am one of those boring, methodical people who works through all the prompts in order, but there's enough here to keep me entertained for a while :D Now, enough about me. Here's a story!

Author: Wang Xi-feng
Story: Stand and Deliver!
Flavor: Vanilla #1 (shopping)
Rating: PG-13 (language, behavior that would probably be considered child abuse in our world, non-graphic mention of dead bodies)
Word Count: 717
Summary: 12-year-old Stojna articulates her life's goal.
Notes: A hajduk is an East European outlaw/freedom fighter/mercenary/some combination of the lot. In folklore, they're often analogous to Robin Hood (although a lot of them behaved more like Dick Turpin). Concrit is always welcome, but never required.


The rain made everything feel much colder than it really was; each fat drop struck you hard, like a cold, wet pebble, and drew rings in the puddles that accumulated among the broken cobblestones. It was no day to be out, but Magda had to do the marketing nonetheless, and she dragged Stojna along, the peasant girl's hand clasped firmly in her own large, chilblained fist. When Stojna hung back, trying to cling to a little dryness, Magda jerked her along. "Come on! It'll hardly take any time at all. A great girl like you, blubbering about it, and you from the North all your life."

"We've got the sense to stay in when it's this bad out," Stojna shouted above the driving patter of the rain, hurrying to keep up with the housekeeper. On impulse, she stomped through a puddle deep enough to cover her new, ill-fitting boots, and kicked up an arc of water that drenched the back of Magda's skirt all the way to her waist.

The housekeeper shrieked on feeling the icy water, and Stojna couldn't help but laugh at her discomfiture; in the North, they often worked in the frozen ground and in the cold mud from the end of winter onwards. She didn't get to enjoy her triumph for long, because Magda glowered at her and then slapped her smartly across the face.

"What the hell are you thinking, you old bitch!" Stojna cried, more from shock than because Magda had really hurt her.

"Of all the crusty nerve," Magda said, her breasts heaving. "It's not bad enough that I have to take care of your dirty little ass, or that you're mucking up His Highness' house all the time, but that you've got to soak people and use that kind of language to His Highness' servants, too! Well, if you're going to act like a little savage, I'll treat you like it." She grabbed Stojna's hair, twisting her fingers in the girl's braid.

"No! Magda, stop, I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'll be good!" Stojna ducked and twisted, but she could not escape that grip.

"Too late now, little missus," Magda said, smacking her lips as if she had just savored some delicious treat. She yanked Stojna around in front of her, marching her towards the public square, and dunked the girl, still squealing, in one of the deeper puddles. Stojna came up sputtering and gasping for air, the dirty water running in grey rivulets over her dress, and seemed about to choke something out when Magda dunked her again. "Had enough, have we?"

Stojna swallowed, grimacing at the taste of the puddle water, and nodded, but her eyes were not fixed on Magda. Following the girl's gaze, Magda gasped and started, averting her eyes as soon as she saw the bodies still hanging.

Stojna's lips moved as she tried to read the placard at the foot of the gibbet, sounding out in hoarse whispers the words she still wasn't sure of. Magda, who had only slightly more learning, mumbled along with her.

THE NOTORIOUS HAJDUKI ANA AND VANKO MARIC, TRIED AND FOUND GUILTY OF HIGHWAY ROBBERY AND NUMEROUS OTHER ACTIVITIES INIMICAL TO HIS MAJESTY'S PEACE. BODIES TO BE DISPLAYED UNTIL WHITSUNDAY AS A DISCOURAGEMENT TO CRIME. M. LUKÁNSKY, PREFECT OF POLICE.

Stojna bared her teeth and hissed when her eyes fell on Prefect Lukánsky's name. "What's all that mean? And why can't he just say Semak like normal people instead of Whitsunday?" She sneered. "Nastrántsy asshole." She looked at the bodies again and grew somber, bobbing a curtsey and crossing herself. "May God have mercy on their souls."

"Hey!" Magda cuffed her again. "You'll end up just like them, mark my words. Prefect Lukánsky isn't one to cross."

"I'll cross him," Stojna said, sticking out her chin at Magda. "I will, too, and see if I don't get away with it. That Nastrántsy asshole. Thinks he can tell us how to live!"

"You don't know what you're talking about, as usual," Magda said, shaking her head. "Now come on. We've still got meat and the washing to pick up, not that it'll make much difference in this weather."

Stojna trailed behind her, skipping through the puddles and chanting to herself: I'll cross him, I'll cross him, I'll cross him too...