The Black Widow (formerly The Crystal Lake): Chapter 4 posted

[Almagest]

EDIT: Last version sucked. This one's much better, I'm happy to say =D

Chapter 1

I wanted to smash my alarm clock against the wall—I had absolutely no desire to go to school today. But Dad would kill me if I asked to stay home.

I dragged myself out of bed and into the bathroom, where I noticed my reflection in the mirror. The brown of my eyes was barely visible since my eyelids were fighting a losing battle against gravity, and the sight of my hair made me regret taking a shower last night and going to bed without drying it. It stuck up in odd directions and at strange angles, forming a tangled mess of brown hair. I resembled a cross between a lizard and It from the Addam’s Family.

Yawning uncontrollably, I started my morning routine in half-asleep zombie mode, not fully waking up until some heavy metal song started blaring from my brother’s room at an absurd volume.

“Thomas!” I shouted over the music as I pounded on his door. “Turn that noise down!”

The door opened so quickly that I almost hit him in the nose with my raised fist.

“Noise?” he asked accusingly, clearly annoyed. His unmanageable dark brown hair and the crazed look in his gray eyes gave him a positively deranged appearance. “That’s Master of Puppets for your information and—.”

“Alright! It’s not noise!” I hastily amended, my hands up in an attitude of surrender. “Could you at least turn it down a little bit?”

He rolled his eyes, muttered something about how he guessed he could, and then smiled at me and rumpled my hair like the loving, annoying older brother he was. “Hey! It’s messed up enough as it is!” I yelled, slightly disgruntled yet amused at the same time. As he walked over to his stereo to lower the volume, I stood in the doorway and peered around.

Stepping inside Thomas’s room was like entering another world. Various band posters covered the walls, from Black Sabbath to Iron Maiden to Metallica, plus other bands I didn’t know. A broken drum set slumped in the corner beneath the window, a relic of one too many cover sessions with his friends. A battered guitar and a bass that had seen better days leaned against it. A short-circuited amp occupied the other corner between Thomas’s cluttered desk and his unmade bed. It was here that Thomas placed his prized stereo system, the only thing in this room that looked like it still worked. With all these instruments, one might think that Thomas and his friends practiced here. But oh no, Dad would never allow that. This was simply their storage room for their broken equipment since it took up the limited amount of space Matt had claimed in his mom’s garage.

“I’m surprised Dad let’s you keep all this stuff,” I remarked in wonder.

Every day, Dad and Thomas argued about the same issues, bouncing between Thomas’s friends, to his music, to his grades, and back to his friends. Dad was not pleased that Thomas’s greatest ambition in life was to become a songwriter and create a metal band, to hell with his prospective colleges. He was always making some biting remark about Thomas becoming a murderer or devil-worshipper or something.

Thomas didn’t respond to my remark. I looked over at him and saw he was still staring at his stereo. He seemed to be wrestling with himself, as if he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how to say it. Or if he should say it in the first place.

“Hey…Megan…” he began hesitantly, not looking up.

“What?” I asked, puzzled.

A pause. “Nothing,” he finished lamely.

“‘Nothing’?” I echoed incredulously.

“Yeah, nothing,” he mumbled. Then he looked up and gave me his characteristic half-smile. “Now get outta here! We gotta get ready or we’ll be late for school.”

~

I stared forlornly out the window of Thomas’s truck as he drove, dreading the school day before me.

“What’s the matter with you?” He chuckled. “You look like you’re heading for your funeral or something.”

“Something like that,” I sighed.

“Oh, c’mon!” he protested jokingly. “You gotta give me a better answer than that.”

“It’s a whole lot better than ‘nothing’,” I quipped just to shut him up.

Silence reigned for a full minute before I finally caved. “It’s my history class today,” I revealed with a resigned sigh. “We’re debating the ethics of war.”

“Ah,” said Thomas, comprehension dawning. “And Andrew’s in your class, isn’t he?”

I nodded.

Andrew Carter and I had a longstanding feud, starting from when we began going to school together at age six. Ten years of venomous name-calling, mean-spirited pranks, and cruel jokes. With some vandalism of personal property thrown in for good measure. Like the time he and his basketball buddies dismantled my bike and hid its parts in the park. In retaliation, my friends and I spray painted their precious backboard a bright pink.

Our fathers also loathed each other for reasons unexplained. Their mutual hatred simply was. Sometimes I wondered if they had hated each other before they became neighbors. Moving in next door to your mortal enemy just to spite him seemed like something they would do.

“Let me guess,” Thomas said, his voice heavy with irony. “You and Andrew are on opposing sides of this war debate. And you’re losing. Badly.”

“That’s the gist of it,” I sighed again. “I’m against war and he’s for it. The stupid patriot that he is,” I finished scornfully.

“This may seem ridiculous to you,” Thomas carefully broached, “but have you ever considered looking at it from his point of view?”

I ripped my gaze from the passing houses and stared at my brother in disbelief.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’,” he said as he returned his attention to the road.

“What, are you taking his side?” I asked accusingly.

“Not necessarily. I’m just saying you should be more…open-minded.”

I snorted derisively. “Open-minded? With Andrew Carter? That’ll be the day,” I muttered, resuming my empty stare out the window.

~

“It’ll be fine,” Mikayla assured me as I headed for history class.

“Yeah, sure,” I responded feebly, lagging behind.

Mikayla stopped and gave me an exasperated look. “Come on,” she exclaimed. “It can’t be that bad.”

“Oh yes it can!” I retorted. “You’re not in my class. You don’t know what it’s like—.”

“Alright, enough with the pity party!” she declared as she grabbed my arm and dragged me to the classroom.

“Traitor,” I joked once we reached the doorway.

“Yep. Here, let me pull that knife out of your back,” she offered as she pantomimed the action.

“Oh, thanks, I feel so much better now.” I rolled my eyes and smiled as I realized I actually did feel a little better.

“See you after class,” Mikayla said with a reassuring smile as she headed for math.

I ceased to feel better once I took my seat. I could see Andrew’s dark brown, almost black hair from across the room. He stood with his back to me as he talked animatedly to his friends, but Josh, his right-hand man, pointed me out. They turned as one and sneered at me.

“Is the self-righteous pacifist ready to lose again?” Andrew shouted across the room, opening the hostilities.

“Shut up, you delusional warmonger!” I snapped back.

“Oooo!” he mocked with his hands in the air in a show of fake fright. “‘Warmonger’. That’s quite a big word for someone with such a small brain. But you probably spent most of yesterday afternoon coming up with that,” he taunted, a malicious grin lighting up his face.

I fumed silently, unable to form a comeback since I actually had spent a good chunk of time on that insult. Luckily, the teacher came in at that moment and spared me further embarrassment.

“Alright, we’re continuing our discussion on the ethics of war today. And let’s keep it civil this time,” he admonished us with meaningful looks at Andrew and me.

I thought we did rather well on that front. No raised voices or name-calling this time around. Our debate was essentially identical to yesterday’s though. And endless cycle of the same arguments and counterarguments. Dad had given me some good points at dinner last night though, so I felt more prepared as I opened the debate.

“War involves killing on a massive scale, not just soldiers but civilians as well,” I stated. “Such massacres are needless. Negotiations, compromise, and civilized discussion can be used to solve problems between countries.”

“But what if a country doesn’t want to negotiate?” Andrew countered. “What if war is the only way to preserve a people’s freedom?”

“Many countries today are against that,” I argued. “If one country threatened another, the democratic countries would rise as one and prevent such a catastrophe by threatening to declare war.”

“So you would use war to prevent war?” Andrew asked smugly.

“No, I’m talking about threatening to declare war. Not actually doing it.”

“But then a country would have to declare war if the invading country wasn’t deterred by that and said ‘Screw you! We have weapons, allies, God, etc.’.”

“Why the ‘what if?’ situations, Andrew?” I asked condescendingly. “Don’t you have a concrete argument?”

“My ‘what if?’ situations have all occurred in the course of history,” Andrew angrily declared. “Wars have been fought because of nationalism, religion, greed, you name it and someone’s gone to war over it. We don’t live in a utopian society. Yes, war is bad in many respects. But it is a necessary evil in our world. As long as we have countries that disagree, we’ll have wars in one way or another. And the only way we’d all agree, like a bunch of goody two shoes, is if we were ruled over by some all-powerful tyrant. He would act like a father-figure, controlling us and preventing us from speaking our minds. We’d be forced to agree with him or face his wrath and violence,” he proclaimed with a pointed glare at me.

How dare you! Dragging my personal life into this! Just because I obey my dad doesn’t mean he’s a dictator! Oh, if only looks could kill…

The rest of the school day passed uneventfully. Unlike yesterday, hardly anyone repeated Andrew’s insults to my face—but I did hear “self-righteous pacifist” a few times as I walked by clusters of people.

Thomas had a free period for his last class this semester, so he always left school early to head to Matt’s. This meant I had to ride the school bus. With Andrew Carter. He had totaled his car a few months ago and his parents refused to buy him another one.

My school bus always arrived last to take us home, so the bus platform was nearly empty. I took advantage of the opportunity and marched up to Andrew, exclaiming, “That was a really cheap shot you took in history today!” My breath formed a smoky fog before me in the cold, winter air, creating the illusion of an angry dragon approaching. At least, that’s the impression I wanted to give.

He turned around to face me with an amused expression. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he stated calmly, a mischievous glint in his hazel eyes. Oh, he knew full well what I was talking about. I glared up at him, wishing I were at least 6 feet tall instead of 5’ 3” so I could look him directly in the eye.

“You were talking about my father, weren’t you?” I whispered accusingly, more a statement than a question.

“What do you think?” he heatedly whispered back. “I saw your dad beat—”

“You saw nothing!” I cut him off, slightly panicked. This conversation wasn’t heading in the direction I had expected.

“Denying what I saw doesn’t mean it isn’t true,” he argued, glaring at me. Not out of anger…more like disgust. “Your dad hits your mom and you know it.”

There. He had said it. The awful truth that only my family knew about. Or so I had thought.

“How’d you find out?” I asked angrily.

“Your dad’s not exactly subtle when he hits his wife in front of the kitchen window.”

“So you were spying!”

“I just walked by at the right moment!”

We were no longer whispering and the few people around were starting to stare. Andrew took a step closer to me and lowered his voice once more. “Why haven’t you or your brother gone for help?” he asked accusingly.

“Why haven’t you?” I shot back in an angry whisper.

He clenched his jaw so hard I thought his teeth would crack under the pressure. “Because—because it’s not my place!” he spit out. “I’d help if I could,” he muttered, staring at the ground.

His last statement caught me by surprise. He’d help if he could? “Why?” I asked. “Why do you want to help?”

He looked up and said, “Because it’s the right thing to do. But I can’t help—your mom won’t let me.”

“You talked to my mom about this?!” I cried, my voice rising in pitch as I reached the end of my question.

“Of course I did!” he responded, anger in his tone once more. “Someone had to do something!”

“Well, w-we don’t need your help!” I sputtered.

“Good! ‘Cause I’m done offering it!”

~

Dinner that evening was unusually silent. Mom was always quiet, but she hadn’t said one word all day. I tried to catch her eye, wondering if I dared talk to her later about Andrew. But she kept her head down, her long blond hair obscuring her face. I kept glancing at Dad and Thomas too, surprised that they weren’t arguing. It had become something of a dinnertime ritual. Plus, I had been hoping their customary fight would distract Dad—.

“So how are your classes going, Megan?” Dad asked stiffly, as if he really wanted to ask something else but couldn’t.

I stared at my plate, desperately wishing I could disappear. Did I dare tell him that I was close to failing most of my classes? Or that I was definitely failing math?

“Oh, they’re fine,” I lied, hoping my voice was convincingly nonchalant. I looked up and spotted Mom looking at me suspiciously, indicating my fib had failed miserably. Luckily, Dad wasn’t really paying attention. He obviously had something else on his mind.

“Good, good,” he murmured. “And what about your classes Thomas?” he asked pointedly. Here was the question he had wanted to ask.

“Straight Ds,” he declared, sounding almost proud of this fact. “I’m thinking about dropping out next semester,” he casually interjected before Dad could respond.

It’s a good thing I wasn’t holding anything in my hand at the time because I would’ve dropped it in shock. What is Thomas thinking?! Dad’s going to kill him! He blew up at him when Thomas mentioned not going college—he’s really going to lose it if Thomas doesn’t even finish high school!

I braced my hands against the side of the table, ready to push myself away and run once Dad exploded. The event looked inevitable. Dad’s face had turned a splotchy red, his angry words ready to burst out in a volcanic eruption. I wouldn’t be surprised if he hit Thomas this time.

Thomas calmly met Dad’s angry glare and a self-assured, smug little smile appeared on his face. “Careful,” he mockingly admonished. “If you throw me out or hit me, I’ll just go stay at Matt’s place.”

My eyes widened in disbelief. Thomas’s insane! Dad’s going to beat him to a pulp!

But Thomas’s words seemed to have affected Dad. Instead of yelling or hitting anyone, he just angrily stood up and marched from the room. Thomas continued to smile smugly to himself, like he had a secret weapon. He picked up the salt shaker and used it to knock over its pepper counterpart near Dad’s plate. “Checkmate,” he murmured, chuckling, before standing up and leaving as well.

I looked over at Mom and saw she was just as shocked as me.

“What was that all about?” I breathed.

“I have no idea,” Mom whispered.

[Almagest]

Okay, another revision. The end of chapter 2 is essentially the same, but I added quite a lot to the beginning. Hopefully, I didn't give away too much with my excessive foreshadowing =P
------------------------

Chapter 2

Thomas always spent the weekend at Matt’s house, and this weekend was no different. Except for the stowaway hiding in the bed of Thomas’s truck. I needed answers, answers that only Thomas knew, and I was determined to get them even though it meant getting up earlier than normal on a Saturday morning.

We drove for hours it seemed. Or maybe it only felt that long since I was hunched down on a cold, metal surface and jerked around like a bead in a rattle. I do not recommend hiding in a truck bed if you want to go places.

Eventually, the truck stopped on a steep incline, indicating Thomas had pulled into a driveway. I waited until Thomas’s door had slammed shut and I heard his footsteps on what I assumed to be the front step of the house. I expected Thomas to knock or something, but instead I heard him put a key in the lock and let himself in. Thomas had a key to Matt’s house?

I climbed stiffly out of the truck bed since my muscles were cramping and my bones ached from staying so long in such an uncomfortable position. While I waited for my circulation to wake up my sleeping limbs, I took in the sight that was Matt’s house.

An impossibly steep driveway led to the one-car garage of the rather dilapidated two-story townhouse. A miniscule square of wilted grass occupied the area next to the driveway, and pots of withered flowers on the steps showed a feeble attempt to make the place more welcoming. Stubborn weeds sprouted from the numerous cracks in the concrete, and the faint remains of graffiti stained the sides of the house where the paint hadn’t peeled off first. Who would live in a place like this?

I hobbled up to the door and, after a brief moment of hesitation, knocked. It would be stupid to give up after coming so far.

The door swung open to reveal Thomas’s best friend, Matt, his dark blond hair unkempt and his light brown eyes sporting dark bags underneath them, like he hadn’t slept all night.

“What are you doing here?” Matt asked in surprise, although he sounded pleased to see me.

“I-I just wanted to talk to Thomas,” I explained.

“Well, sure, c’mon in,” he said, opening the door wider and stepping to the side.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, wondering where Thomas was.

“He’s upstairs,” Matt answered my unspoken question, leading me up the steep, narrow staircase crammed behind the door. Once we reached the landing, Matt turned to me and put a finger to his lips before cautiously opening a bedroom door on the left.

The room beyond was dark, lit only by a dim, 40-watt bulb in a cracked lamp by the door. A female figure with a tousle of dingy blond hair was sprawled on the bed, drool dripping from her open mouth onto the dirty sheets. An empty bottle of vodka lay on the floor beside the bed, directly below her outstretched fingers. Thomas was leaning over her, checking her pulse to make sure she was still alive. Apparently satisfied that she hadn’t drunk herself to death, he stood up and walked over to Matt, not noticing me in the shadows outside the door.

“I thought she was gonna make it this time,” he sighed.

“I thought so too,” Matt muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “She seemed to be sticking to AA after Aunt Susan talked some sense into her. I’m just glad I managed to spill half that stuff before she snatched it back from me.”

“Probably saved her life,” Thomas remarked quietly.

Matt nodded solemnly. “Oh, hey,” Matt said, suddenly remembering something. “Did something happen at your house yesterday?”

Thomas looked surprised. “Uh, yeah, Dad and I had a bit of a power struggle last night—a battle of wills. Why’d you ask? I haven’t even had a chance to mention it.”

“How else do you explain why she’s here?” Matt calmly inquired, pointing to me with his thumb.

“Megan?” Thomas asked in disbelief. “How—?”

I smiled sheepishly. “I hid in your truck.”

He smiled broadly and enveloped me in a huge bear hug. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you here,” Thomas exclaimed in a loud whisper.

“Why is that?” I managed to ask while being suffocated.

“I’ll explain later,” he said vaguely as he relinquished his hold on me and headed down the stairs.

“How ‘bout now?” I shouted angrily to his back as we descended.

“Shhh!” Thomas and Matt shushed me simultaneously. Matt pointed back up to the bedroom. “My mom’s got a massive hangover right now, so keep it down,” he whispered.

“Sorry,” I quickly apologized, my voice a mere whisper now as well.

“It’s alright—you didn’t know.”

“There’s a lot I don’t know apparently,” I hinted with a glance at Thomas as we headed for the kitchen in the back.

“No kidding,” Matt muttered to himself. I gave him a puzzled look, but he ignored me as he spoke to Thomas. “Do you think we should tell her?”

“Tell me what?” I inquired eagerly, my anger forgotten.

Thomas considered me, weighing whether he should or not. “I don’t know if you’re ready for it, Megan,” he finally stated.

“Why wouldn’t I be ready?” I asked indignantly.

“Because you wouldn’t believe us,” Thomas sighed. “You never question Dad. If we told you what he’s done…”

“What has he done?” I breathed anxiously, my voice barely audible.

Thomas glanced at me, took a deep breath, and asked, “Where do you want me to start?”

~

How could Dad do such a thing? That was the thought that played through my head over and over and over again. At first, I didn’t believe them, just as Thomas had said I would. It was impossible. Dad could never do something like that. But they had proof of Dad’s misdeeds. The more I tried to deny it, the more I realized it had to be true. Everything fit now. Everything made sense in some sick, twisted way.

But at the same time, nothing made sense. How could he? Why would he?

The rest of the morning passed in a haze as I tried to wrap my mind around this shocking revelation. I simply sat in Matt’s living room and stared unseeing through the window, not even noticing the gentle snowfall that had started.

My seemingly perfect life had fallen from the clouds of dreams and shattered on the cold ground of reality, irreparable, forever altered. I didn’t want to go home—I couldn’t look at Dad the same way again, knowing what I knew. The desire to run away had never been stronger.

“She’s taking it really hard,” I heard Matt whisper to Thomas in the kitchen.

“Actually, she’s taking it better than I thought she would.”

“Really? She hasn’t said a word since we told her.”

“Exactly. That means she’s thinking about it. If she were dead set against it, she’d be yelling at us as she marched out the door on her way home.”

I couldn’t help smiling at Thomas’s words. He knew me too well.

“I offered to let her stay the night, and she nodded.”

“That’s a good sign—she doesn’t want to go home. It’ll keep her from getting under Dad’s thumb again, so he can’t brainwash her.”

I had to strain my ears to hear them now, they were whispering so quietly. I silently got up and crept to the doorway so I could hear better.

“Brainwash?” Matt queried, a note of incredulity in his voice. “Isn’t that a little extreme?”

“You saw Megan’s reaction. She can’t comprehend Dad doing something wrong. He’s an authority figure, and she never questions authority.”

“Just like your mom.”

“Exactly like my mom.”

I retreated to the couch, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping. Was I as submissive as Thomas thought? My first thought was no. But, then again, when had I ever stood up to someone “higher” than me? I only argued with people like Mikayla, Thomas, and Andrew—my equals.

“I’m beat. I’ve gotta catch a few z’s before I head to work,” Matt muttered to himself as he passed through the living room and ascended the stairs.

I heaved myself off the couch and shuffled into the kitchen. “Where does Matt work?” I asked Thomas, desperate to talk about something normal.

“He’s a mechanic at that 24 hour service place in the middle of town. He works the night shift,” Thomas informed me, not looking up from the paper he was writing on.

“What about his mom?”

“Well, Vanessa hasn’t had a job for awhile.”

“Matt pays the rent for this place?”

“Yep. Good thing it’s dirt cheap. I’d help him pay the rent, but he’s too proud. He won’t take Alex’s money either, no matter how insistent he is.”

“Alex?”

Thomas glanced up at me. “Andrew’s dad,” he clarified, waiting for my reaction.

This was too much. I stared at Thomas in complete disbelief. I wanted to ask him why, but my brain seemed to have shut down.

“He and Vanessa were best friends when they were younger,” Thomas explained.

“B-but, you said—,” I stammered, finding my voice.

“Exactly.”

I paused, pondering the ramifications of this new fact. It didn’t take long for the light bulb to turn on.

Thomas smiled. “You put it together yet?”

I nodded slowly, speechless for the second time today.

“Are you okay?” he asked, looking at me with concern.

“Hmmm? Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” I muttered. “I just—I just need to get out, go for a walk or something. Clear my head.”

“This neighborhood’s not exactly the best place for a stroll,” he warned. “Besides, it’s been snowing for the past five hours.”

“Exactly. No one will be out in this,” I declared, waving my hand towards the rapidly falling snow outside the kitchen window. “I’ll just go to that park with the lake and be back before dinner.”

“Alright,” Thomas grudgingly agreed, looking like he was going against his better judgment. “Be safe, okay?”

“I will.”

~

A few streets down from Matt’s house was a park with a quaint little lake. A pond really, but people called it a lake because it was the closest thing we had. In the winter, it froze over and kids held contests to see who could walk across it without falling in. Not a scary challenge at all since the lake was only a couple of feet deep. Unfortunately, a toddler fell through the ice once while following her big sister many years ago. Both little girls lived, but my grandparents told me that because of the incident, the town fenced off the lake to prevent the possibility of a fatality.

I crunched through the fluffy snow at a leisurely pace, in no hurry to reach my destination. Cradling my fractured life, I picked up piece after piece, wondering how they had all fit together before this. It was like some of the puzzle was missing now, and parts from a different one had intermingled with my own. Part of me was glad that I knew the truth now, while the other half demanded my old life back.

Did Mom know what Dad had done? Did she know how he had betrayed us? How he had betrayed everyone he cared about? Probably not. I doubt he would’ve told her something so scandalous, and she would never have asked. Just like me. Thomas and Matt were the only ones who had dug for the truth.

Matt. I liked him. Even though I hadn’t known him for very long, he was already a second brother to me, someone I knew I could turn to if I needed help, someone I knew I could trust.

I had reached the park by now and wandered the deserted paths, alone with my thoughts.

Maybe that was my problem. Maybe I was too trusting of people in general. I trusted Dad and look where that got me. A world of hurt and betrayal at the hands of his secrets. I was now certain that the only people I could trust were Thomas, Matt, Mom, and Mikayla. Heck, even Andrew was more trustworthy than Dad at this point. At least Andrew was predictable.

Did Andrew know what I now knew? It was entirely possible. But if he already knew, why hadn’t he started spreading malicious half-truths? Could it be that he didn’t know? Had his father not told him?

As I rounded a corner, I saw the frozen lake before me, miraculously cleared of snow. A small hill sat behind it, and strategically scattered benches littered the narrow path winding among the trees. It was a winter wonderland, the pristine snow untouched, glittering like a million diamonds in the faint winter sun now peeking through the thick clouds.

I sighed dismally, my breath crystallizing into icy fog before vanishing. All I wanted was to leave this place, just escape everything. I stopped and gazed without seeing across the lake’s frozen surface. I shivered in the frigid air, grateful for the overly large winter coat Thomas had dug out of the closet. Without my crunching footsteps, silence fell thick and fast around me, creating the illusion that the rest of the world and all its problems had ceased to exist. I smiled disconsolately. If only.

That’s when I noticed something strange about the lake—a faint golden glow pulsed gently underneath the ice at its center.

I stared at it and then shook my head, thinking my mind must be playing tricks on me. I opened my eyes uncertainly. No change. I slowly walked along the edge of the lake, thinking it might be a reflection I saw. Still no change. Without giving the action a second thought, I vaulted myself over the waist-high fence surrounding the lake and cautiously approached the middle. The frozen water was slick and slippery under my soles, a frosty blue sky dusted by feathery wisps of cloud and graced by a warm golden sun—a softly beating heart. I stopped with my toes mere inches away from the strange hypnotic glow, wary for any soft or cracking ice. Nothing happened though. Perhaps it only looked warm. I reached out a tentative toe to find out.

When my foot touched the ice above the light, the lake’s surface did not crack or melt as I expected. Instead, I watched in shock and disbelief as the warm light seeped up through the ice and wrapped a wispy tendril around my ankle. It gently yet insistently pulled downward. My first instinct was to pull away. But the soft light was too strong—for me and the ice. The frozen sky shattered, and I screamed to the heavens as I plummeted into the awaiting sun.

[khfreak17]

wow. very well written, lots of detail, not moving too fast, i like it.

[Almagest]

Originally Posted by khfreak17

wow. very well written, lots of detail, not moving too fast, i like it.

Unfortunately, it is moving far too fast. That's why I added so much to chapter 2--I wanted to slow it down and give the reader more of an introduction to the characters before Megan falls in the lake.

Speaking of which...

Chapter 3

The warm light engulfed me and drew me down into the depths of the icy water. In some remote part of my brain, I realized this should be impossible since the lake is only three feet deep at the most. But my present predicament took priority. The warm light insulated me from the icy fingers of this cold, inky abyss, but my lungs demanded air so I started swimming in the direction of what I hoped was the surface. My heavy winter clothes weighed me down though. I panicked as I felt myself gradually sinking no matter how furiously I struck out with my arms and legs. I frantically pulled off my hat, scarf, and coat, letting them sink while I tried to reach the surface again. My lungs screamed in agony from the lack of oxygen. Suddenly, the light rose above me, and in the seemingly endless darkness, I dimly saw a gloved hand above me, reaching down through the light. I tried to grasp it but I missed. Truly hysterical at this point, I made a wild grab and clasped it. Someone pulled me up and my head broke the face of the lake. I gasped, sucking in lungful after lungful of the crisp, cold air, coughing and sputtering as my chest heaved. Then I realized my hand was empty. I started to look around for my rescuer but instead stopped and stared in shock at my surroundings.

Neither the light nor my savior were anywhere to be found as I floated all alone in a vast lake. Its glossy ebony surface reflected the thick layer of dark clouds partially obscuring the night sky. Snow-covered trees hid anything beyond the lake’s extensive shores except for the immense mountains behind them and a smooth-faced cliff along the shoreline directly in front of me. A massive castle perched upon the edge of this towering rock face. Deep shadows lurked in the arched windows except where small lanterns illuminated a few archways from below, turning the lit windows into unblinking eyes. Lofty towers soared above the impenetrable walls, as if trying to pierce the clouds. My eyes followed them, and I felt my mouth drop open in astonishment. Through the breaks in the clouds, I could see not one, but two, moons. One resembled a pock-marked pearl, while the other looked like a cracked egg, albeit a perfectly round egg. My eyes began darting back and forth between them as my bewildered brain struggled to process all of this information, tried to blame it on hallucination or stress, attempted to call it a lie and make it disappear. Eventually though, I admitted the truth to myself. A truth made glaringly obvious by the dual moons above me.

Wherever I was, it certainly was not Earth.

~

The icy fingers of the black lake still gripped my bones as I sat shivering in front of a roaring fire inside the castle, a large, warm blanket wrapped around me. Two castle guards patrolling along the lake had noticed me swimming sluggishly to the shore and helped me out. At least I assumed they were guards. They carried two long swords, one diagonally along their backs and another at their side. A bow and a quiver of arrows also lay diagonally along their backs, creating an “X” with the sword. No doubt they had other deadly weapons hidden beneath their thick, dark green attire. They had brought me to the castle and left me in this room. I could hear them whispering to each other outside the doorway, keeping their voices low and inaudible. All their efforts were needless though—the snippets of conversation I caught were in a language I neither recognized nor understood.

I wrapped the blanket tighter around me and looked around the high-ceilinged room, curious and uncertain of my surroundings. Gray stone walls soared up to the arched ceiling where deep shadows hid in the corners, away from the torches sputtering in their brackets along the walls. The blazing fire was the main source of light and warmth, shooting fiery fingers across the russet furniture. A thick rug covered the stone floor and colorful tapestries adorned the walls. I felt small and lost in such a grand room.

I stared into the fire and thought of my mom, Thomas, Matt, Mikayla. Did they know I was gone? Would I see them again? My heart plummeted within me, and my throat constricted, nearly choking me as I felt an intense urge to sob uncontrollably. Of course I would see them again, I told myself, my heart rebounding at the thought.

Suddenly, a third voice, filled with undeniable authority, addressed the two guards outside. I looked over my shoulder at a tall, imposing woman just outside the doorway. Like the guards, she too wore dark green garments, but I guessed the black accents must indicate a position of power since the guards displayed such deference towards her. Her ink-black hair shone in the flickering light, and her dark eyes flashed in impatience. Suddenly, she glanced at me and I quickly averted my gaze. I didn’t know who she was, but she inspired a fearful respect nonetheless.

I returned to staring at the fire until I heard a voice to my left. I looked up and jumped slightly—the imposing woman had seated herself in a nearby chair. She must have moved as silently as a shadow across the room.

She smiled reassuringly at me. A small smile—more like a grin. Merely turning up the corners of her mouth. “Sorry to startle you.”

“Y-you s-speak E-English,” I stammered due to surprise, relief, and uncontrollable shivering.

“Yes, yes I do,” she chuckled. “I apologize for the rudeness of my guards. They are rather suspicious of newcomers.”

“Oh, th-that’s f-fine,” I managed to stutter.

She smiled again, leaning forward and extending her hand. “My name is Sysenqua.”

“I’m M-Megan,” I responded, shaking her warm hand with my icy one.

“Well, Megan, you should get out of those wet clothes and put on something dryer. One of the guards will direct you to a room,” she said as she stood. “But let me be the first to welcome you to Delralor.”

~

I stared at myself in disbelief as I stood before the full-length mirror hanging on the wall. I now wore green garb similar to the guards’. I looked so different now—somewhat dangerous. I could almost picture the sword, the bow, and the quiver of arrows hanging behind my back. The bottoms of the pants were tucked into the tall boots, and a narrow belt wound around my hips. I wore two shirts, one under the other, because the outer one resembled a jacket of sorts and had a diagonal opening across the front. I felt much better now that I was out of my drenched clothes. They lay in a pile on the floor by the fireplace, steaming a little in the heat.

“Oh, good, you’re dressed.” I jumped at the sound of Sysenqua’s voice. I quickly turned and saw her standing just inside the doorway. Once again, I had not heard her entrance. Silent as a shadow.

“Come, follow me,” she said, beckoning with her hand as she began to walk down the dimly lit hallway. “Now, no doubt you have quite a few questions you wish to ask,” she remarked once we were walking side by side, our footsteps echoing through the nearly deserted corridor. We were alone except for the presence of a few guards doing rounds.

“Well…where am I?”

“You are in the country Kemavka on the planet Delralor. And this is my castle.”

Immediately, two different thoughts ran through my mind, both of them overwhelming in their implications. First, I was talking to the ruler of a castle. Second, I was on another planet. For some reason, the first one seemed more important. “You—you’re the queen or something?” I stammered.

“Only by marriage. My husband, Qaltor, is king by blood.”

“So…so why are you talking to me? Seems kinda beneath you.”

She chuckled. “Well, it’s not every day that someone arrives from Earth.”

This whole situation was unbelievable. Mind-boggling. Like something out of a movie or sci-fi novel. I must be dreaming. But if that were the case, this was the most vivid dream I had ever experienced.

“So, you said I’m on a planet called…Delralor?” I asked, wanting to make sure I hadn’t misheard.

“Yes, you are,” Sysenqua patiently repeated. “You’re not the first to come here. Many have come before you in fact. That’s how I learned English.”

“Oh…but…how—how did I get here?”

“Actually, we were hoping you could help us on that one. We think that lakes, ponds, and other bodies of water are somehow portals to your planet. Ilyra Lake, otherwise known as the Ebony Lake, brought you,” Sysenqua said, stopping at an arched window that looked out upon the vast lake below. “Did you come through a lake on you planet?”

“Uh, yeah. Well, a pond really.”

“A pond? Interesting,” Sysenqua muttered, apparently fascinated by this piece of information. “Did you see anything unusual about this pond?”

“Um, there was this weird light in the middle of it.”

“Ah, yes, the elusive guide,” Sysenqua mused. “We’re not sure what it is, but apparently whenever the light is present, the lake becomes a portal.”

“Wait. Does this mean—does this mean that light could come back and I could go home?” I asked excitedly.

“Not likely,” Sysenqua answered sadly. “As I said before, it’s not every day that someone arrives from Earth. It’s difficult to predict when the light will come. You’re the first person to come here in 40 years.”

My heart plummeted again, and this time, it did not rebound—it shattered into a million pieces. And each part was a memory, a glittering shard of a broken mirror, cutting me in sharp, painful remembrance.

~

With nowhere else to go, I decided to stay at the castle. Sysenqua gave me a room on the south side, facing the lake. A chilly breeze swept across the lake’s ebony surface and into my room, causing the flickering flames to dance feebly in the fireplace. I sat hunched near the arched window, my back to the dying fire. An untouched tray of food fit for a king sat on the table beside me.

I cried sporadically during the night as I realized time and time again that I would never see my family again. The awful truth hit me over and over again, an excruciating stab to my heart each and every time. Well, I got my wish, I thought bitterly. All my problems are gone. The thought did nothing to comfort me though. As the first faint rays of sunlight began to lighten the night sky, I slipped into an uneasy sleep.

I was back in the lake and three hands were reaching down to me. But the faster I swam, the farther I moved away from my family. I looked down and saw the light wrapped around my ankle, pulling me into the dark depths of the lake. And then the light changed into Andrew, laughing soundlessly as he dragged me down. Then Andrew became my dad, yelling at me, demanding to know what Thomas had told me. Finally, my dad transformed into Sysenqua, who smiled and promised to save me as she continued to pull me down into the inky abyss. I jolted upright in bed, gasping as if I had nearly drowned.

[khfreak17]

wow........... that was better than the first 2. Nicely done!

[Almagest]

New title. The last one was rather wimpy, and this one fits better with the ending, I think. Anyway, here's Chapter 4. Come on, people! Comment!

Chapter 4

Glaring sunlight streamed through the window, turning the insides of my eyelids red. I groaned, not wanting to wake up so early on a weekend. I turned onto my other side and groped around for my alarm clock. After a few moments of flailing my hand through the air in vain, I suddenly remembered where I was and what had happened.

Despair threatened to choke me again, renewed as if I were experiencing my loss for the first time. Why did I go to the park? Why did I even walk onto the lake? Why…? The questions circled ceaselessly in my mind, chasing each other round and round. I curled up under the covers, the desire to sleep overriding everything else. Wasn’t that what people in mourning did? Just sleep all the time?

A tentative knock on the door ruined this plan before I could implement it. “Come in,” I called out in a half-groan.

“Oh, good, I did it right,” a female voice exclaimed happily as its owner stepped into the room. “This ‘knocking’ custom of yours is quite strange.”

I cracked open an eye and looked up into a pair of cyan ones that were much closer than I expected them to be. My look of surprise did not go unnoticed.

“Oh, sorry!” she said, pulling back. “I forgot—Earth people don’t like you to get too close to them.”

“How do you know that?” I asked.

“My grandfather met someone from Earth once. He told me that they were uncomfortable if you were too close.”

“Oh. Well, I think that’s just an American thing actually.”

“What’s ‘American’?”

“Huh? Oh, it’s—America is a country on Earth. The one I’m from. So I’m an American.”

“What’s it like?” she asked, her voice filled with wonder.

“I’m the first person you’ve met from Earth, aren’t I?”

She nodded, causing her short brown hair to bounce up and down slightly. “Sorry. I should probably introduce myself. My name is Valkiva.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Megan.”

“Nice to meet you too,” she said with a warm smile. “C’mon, if you get dressed quickly, we can eat breakfast and then I’ll take you on a tour of the castle.”

~

The dining room was long and rectangular, filled with narrow tables and benches. A large fireplace sat at the far end, a blaze already roaring in its heart, slightly warming the cavernous room. The chatter of hundreds of different conversations reverberated through the air, making it difficult to talk to Valkiva as she weaved her way expertly among the tables. She was heading for the end of the line snaking its way along the edge of the room. Feeling like I was back in the cafeteria at school, I followed her as best I could until we stood at the end.

“Who’re all of these people?” I asked Valkiva rather loudly in order to be heard.

“Soldiers in Sysenqua’s army,” she yelled back.

Soldiers? An army? “Are you at war or something?”

She turned around and gave me a quizzical look. “Of course we are.”

I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me. What a stupid question to ask. That was why everyone wore the same dark green clothes. Nevertheless, I needed answers. “Are you—are you a soldier too?”

“Yes, I am,” Valkiva declared with a broad smile, obviously quite proud of this fact.

Figures. I argue against war one day and the next day I end up in a country in the midst of one. Just my luck.

Once we collected our breakfast of stew, bread, and water, Valkiva led the way to a table near the fireplace that a group of soldiers had recently vacated. We ate in silence for awhile. Well, Valkiva ate anyway. I just sat there and stirred my stew listlessly, lost in thought. Eventually, I asked the question that had been weighing on my mind.

“Valkiva,” I said hesitantly. She looked up at me and gave me that quizzical look again. “Do I—do I have to join the army?”

She seemed surprised by this question, pausing before she answered. “Well, I don’t really know to be honest. You’d have to ask—.” She stopped in midsentence as her blue-green eyes lit up like sunlight sparkling on the ocean’s surface. “Tazon!” she called out as she waved to a young man with dark blond hair walking towards us.

“Hi Valkiva,” he said. “And you must be Megan,” he continued as his periwinkle eyes turned towards me.

I nodded. “How’d you know my name?”

“Everyone in the castle is talking about you,” he explained as he sat down next to me. That’s when I noticed that everyone around us was sneaking curious glances at me out of the corners of their eyes. I suddenly wished I could vanish into thin air.

Valkiva must have noticed my embarrassment. “Hey, Tazon, let’s eat outside today,” she suggested.

He looked surprised. “But we can’t take the dishes out—.”

“Then hurry up and eat the stew!” she declared, exasperated. “We can take the bread outside.”

“Alright, alright,” he grumbled, obediently shoveling down his meal.

~

Valkiva led the way through the labyrinth of twisting passages and up onto the ramparts, which provided front-row seats for the gorgeous scenery below. The jagged mountain peaks dotted the sea of clouds like little islands, the bright sunlight nearly blinding me as it reflected off of every white surface. The sky gracefully arched overhead, a brilliant sapphire dome that seemed close enough to touch. A freezing wind nipped at my fingers, and I shivered from cold and fear as I realized how high up we were. I had never been good with heights.

It was while I was staring up into the sky, with my hand shielding my eyes from the sun, that I noticed something more shocking than dual moons. This planet orbited two suns. What were those called again? Binary stars. This place was simply full of surprises.

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” Valkiva breathed, her voice hushed, as if speaking loudly would break some unseen spell.

I nodded, utterly speechless.

Tazon noticed my awed expression and smiled. “It never gets old,” he murmured, looking out on the fluffy sea. “Never ceases to amaze.” I suddenly realized they were talking about the ocean of clouds. Two suns were normal for them.

We stayed on the ramparts as long as we dared until the biting winds drove us inside. Valkiva and Tazon then proceeded to give me an extensive tour of the castle, although Valkiva did most of the talking, pointing out so-and-so corridor leading to so-and-so room. Oddly enough, I felt more lost after exploring the castle.

Valkiva ended the tour at the library, a room that looked much like the rest of the castle. Gray stone. High ceiling. Large fireplace. But tall bookshelves lined the walls here instead of tapestries, and lanterns replaced the torches. This room boasted more furniture as well, and an ornate chandelier hung from the ceiling.

I began to wander around, staring at the books that were much different than the ones I knew. These books were scrolls, and the bookshelves were comprised of squares, one for each scroll. Some were fatter than others, but their size was the only distinguishing factor I could recognize. Otherwise, they all looked the same to me.

A multitude of maps littered one of the many tables scattered about the room. As I stared at the calligraphy style of script flowing across them, I absentmindedly wondered what the words meant.

“Ah! You must be Megan,” said a kind, elderly voice from behind me. I whirled around and found myself face to face with a partially bald, gray-haired man. His light brown eyes were framed by a rickety looking pair of spectacles that matched his thin, wiry physique.

“Uh, yeah, I am,” I managed to say, still recovering from my surprise. What was it with people suddenly appearing out of nowhere around here? “Who are you?”

“Oh, pardon my rudeness, my dear. My name is Ethralor, and I am the keeper of the histories.”

“More like the enthralling teller of lore,” Valkiva interjected from across the room, where she was perusing scrolls.

Ethralor chuckled. “I see you have already met two of my prize students,” he said to me, indicating Tazon and Valkiva with a wave of his hand.

“I thought you two were soldiers,” I exclaimed, momentarily confused.

“We are,” Tazon said, walking over. “But anyone can learn from Ethralor if they are so inclined. Quite a few people choose to come here because this is the only chance they have to get an education.”

“And it’s a nice break from training,” Valkiva added as she joined us.

“Speaking of which, Sirok’s going to have our hides if we don’t show up before lunch today.”

“Oh, calm down, Tazon,” Valkiva said dismissively. “He’d rather jump in Ulkron Swamp than go against Sysenqua’s orders.”

“Sysenqua’s orders?” I echoed.

“Well, not everyone speaks English, and this castle’s really big,” Valkiva explained, “so it only made sense for her to send an English-speaking person to show you around. You basically gave me a day off,” she finished with a smile.

“Oh.” Sysenqua must’ve wanted me to feel more comfortable around here. “What about Tazon?”

“I think he gets off the hook too just by association.”

“But it’s only for today, unfortunately,” Tazon amended. “Tomorrow, we resume our regular training schedule.”

“Joy,” Valkiva muttered, her voice practically dripping with sarcasm.

“Oh, come now, I thought you two liked being soldiers,” Ethralor playfully prodded them.

“We do!” Tazon declared. “It’s a…a lovingly hateful commitment.”

I laughed at Tazon’s phrasing. “On Earth, we call that a ‘love-hate relationship’.”

“Oh, is that how you say it?”

“English is such a complicated language!” Valkiva exclaimed. “I don’t even know why I wanted to learn it.”

“You speak it very well,” I said. “I would never have guessed that it’s your second language. It’s just the phrases you don’t know.”

“I have an idea,” Ethralor quietly announced. He waited until we all turned towards him and gave our full attention before he continued. “I can teach Kema to Megan during the day, and after you two finish your training, she can teach us more about English.”

Tazon and I nodded enthusiastically while Valkiva gave an emphatic “yes”.

“Good!” he said, clapping his weathered hands together, his eyes twinkling with merriment. “Then shall we begin?”