The City and Its Creatures

R. Ruvinsky, Issue 06

Mama first showed me The City when I was ten, waking me from a nightmare at dawn. As I sat up sweating and shaking, she said, “Come on, baby, I’m gonna show you something. I think you need it.”

She didn’t comment on the nightmare, though it had certainly been my screams that had woken her up; she just got me dressed while I rubbed at sleep-dusted eyes. Out the door and down the stairs we went, her hand clasped tightly around mine. 

Hardly anyone was out on the barely-lit streets. There were cars, yes, but there were always cars. The sound of cars driving and honking and braking had long been my lullaby; back then, I had no idea what true silence was. 

Down a block, then two. Half the streetlamps were still on, the sunlight too weak to tell them their duty was done. Half the shops were still closed; the other half blared comforting electric signs of “24/7” and “OPEN.” The street rumbled under my feet for a few seconds, the subway speeding off to some other corner. People hurried by, to home or from. 

Mama looked down and smiled at me. “You see it, don’tcha? The City.” She lifted her gaze again; I kept my eyes fixed on her, trusting in her to keep me from tripping. “You look at the street and know its workings. You look at the people and see their lives. You’ve got my gift, baby girl.”

She always said it like the first letters were capitalized: The City. We lived in the city, but we drew our magic from The City. The city was the body and the bones, but The City was the marrow. And Mama, she knew the magic in its heartbeat, she knew how to make it beat for her.

After looking for cars, we crossed the street without waiting for the light, then stopped at the stairs for the subway stop.

Bleary-eyed strangers passed by as Mama asked me, “Can you feel the life here? So many people, all connected to the city. Coming, going, thinking, living. These tracks are the ley lines of The City.” She crouched down to my level. “We’ve got the right time and the right place. You just need to know what you want, darling girl, ’cause you’ve gotta do it with your own will.”

“I want to stop having nightmares,” I blurted out. We had never mentioned them out loud before, leaving it unspoken in the way my mama burnt sage before bedtime and kept hanging dreamcatchers. Nothing had made the dreams go away.

Mama smiled. “You can make it happen, and I’m gonna show you how.” She reached into her pocket, pulled out a penny, and tossed it to land a few feet away. “We’ll make a charm, a lucky penny. Picking up a penny has been good luck for centuries, across cultures, so the energy is easy to reach. The idea is grounded in this city, in every city. Before you pick it up, focus on that idea of luck. Reach into The City, borrow its energy, and push it into the penny.”

I stared at the penny, practically going cross-eyed till I became sure there was something in the air. Feelings flowing along paths, bright energy filling the streets.

Mama took my hand, murmuring to me, “Magic is true, because everyone knows what an action means. It’s a game of association, baby. A pinch of salt over your shoulder wards off bad luck because people know that’s why it’s done. It doesn’t matter if they believe in it. If you tap into the energy of The City, you use the strength of that meaning, that association, to make it true.”

I had seen her work before; in my emboldened eyes, she glowed oh-so-brightly with all her hidden magic. She could work on so slim an association that when she put a bouquet of flowers into a vase, all the cracks in our walls faded, all the floors and counters looked new. When she wanted to give someone bad luck, she knew a thousand ways to curse them. She’d helped women get pregnant, then showered charms upon the new family. She was magical. I wanted to be just like her.

I let my mother’s words guide me, lull me like she was reading a bedtime story. The longer I looked, the more I saw. Every step that someone had taken was illuminated with their energy, thousands of paths, a city of vivid emotion underlying our own. I tried to push the energy into the penny, but struggled against its natural flow.

She kept whispering into my ear. “The City needs us to believe in it, and oh, we do. It thrives, so do we. We are alive, so is it. It feeds us and bathes us, and we keep it running on our exhaust and our dreams. Everyone in the city is a dreamer. We gave up the stars so we could see the sky.”

The City was crowded and chaotic, and it was beautiful. So many people, so many dreams. I wanted my dreams back. I lodged my will like a rock in the river of energy, pushing a stream of it to the penny. Not enough, I could tell instinctively.

As if sensing my discouragement, Mama gripped my hand tighter. “Hold to the idea. Give a penny, take a penny.” The last part was said like an incantation, a prayer to the city. I whispered it after her, let her words take my own form.

I saw my own trail winding through the threads of everyone who had recently walked these streets. I could even see Mama’s energy, brilliantly shining. The city, beautiful, dazzling and dauntless, was mine. I wove my will through the strands like digging my feet in, using them to bolster me as I pushed.

The tide changed, following my guidance as I dreamed of luck, luck strong enough to keep me protected. The penny seemed to glow before the vision burst, and I was staring at the city without any of the hidden City.

Mama let go of my hand. “Go on, pick it up. Check the year.”

My birth year shone on its face, though it was dull copper before. I looked at Mama in awe. “I did it!”

She winked and swung me up into her arms, though I was far too old for that. “You’re a natural.” 

I clasped my arms around her neck as she headed home, walking back through streets brushed with dawn. When I fell asleep again, deep and dreamless, it was with the penny still clutched in my hand.