Friday, December 27, 2013

Beginnings

I doubt many people have actually read any of the previously abandoned project that is written here, but if you have been reading, I apologize for not working on it in so long. I have decided, as aforementioned, to drop the story, as I was running out of inspiration, and hadn't even thought about the direction in which the story was headed. As a result, the story had a weak plot, poor planning, and even worse storytelling. However, I will be starting a new story which has been planned out far better, and, in my opinion, is a far better plot anyway. Please enjoy the story, and I appreciate any feedback you might have, so feel free to comment.

Arya out.


The Beauty's Beasts.

Book 1.
Wolf

It was dark. Dark and hot. Low voices were chanting strange words somewhere nearby, and candles flickered their dim lights. There was an overall feeling of foreboding hanging in the warm air. He was sitting at the center of a ring of cloaked figures, unable to move. His breathing was heavy, his eyes wide and full of fear. Then there was a sudden burning pain in his wrist.
Logan sat up suddenly. His breath came fast as he looked around at his bedroom. He swallowed, rubbing his eyes with one hand. It had been that same dream again! That same nightmare he had every night for months. He rubbed his wrist, still feeling the pain. Without looking down, he knew what was under his hand. It was always the same. That burning pain under his tattoo. He looked down at the black mark permanently etched into his skin, the symbol of his clouded past and uncertain future. He saw no point in trying to go back to sleep, so he got up. He noticed that his roommate was missing from the bed beside him. Looking around, he saw a bag sitting by the door. He walked downstairs to the small kitchen to find Chris making a pot of coffee. Chris turned as Logan walked in.
“You’re up early.”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“Nightmares again?”
“Yeah.”
Logan sat at the shabby wooden table and rested his head and arms on the top, sighing deeply. Chris put down the coffee and came over to Logan, nudging his head playfully.
“Hey, wake up. I made coffee for us both. Let’s share it outside, okay?”
Logan smiled a bit and nodded. The dawn was just breaking outside, and the birdsong was loud and cheerful. The two young men sipped at their coffee and watched the sunrise quietly. Finally, Logan gathered his wits and his curiosity.
“What’s with the bag upstairs? Are we moving again?”
“No. Not you, anyway.”
Logan turned to Chris in shock.
“You’re leaving me?”
“Calm down, Logan. It’s not like that. I don’t want to leave you, you know that.”
“Then why?”
“Well, l let me finish. The hunters have been getting too close for comfort, and I don’t want you to get hurt. They don’t know about you, see, and if I leave, they’ll follow me, and you’ll be safe.”
“But you-”
“Look, I’ve already bought a train ticket, and my bags are packed. Don’t try to change my mind. Maybe someday I’ll come back, but for now, it has to be goodbye.”
Logan nodded and looked down into his coffee mug. Chris sighed and continued.
“I’ve enrolled you in a high school near here. You can stay here in the house and go to the school. I’ve left you plenty of food, and some money. If you run out, there’s a woman not too far away who can help you. I’m leaving tonight, okay?”
Logan nodded silently. Chris sighed again and stood up. Glancing down at Logan, he turned and walked inside.


Chris was leaving. Logan was still trying to wrap his mind around it. He and Chris had always been together, ever since Logan could remember. True, he couldn’t remember very far back, but he also couldn’t remember a time without Chris there next to him. What would life be like without him? Logan didn’t want to think about it. That night they walked together to the train station to say one last farewell. As they stood waiting for the train, Chris put his hand on Logan’s shoulder. Logan looked down at the tattoo on Chris’ hand. It matched his own closely. How did they get the same tattoo? Another mystery of his past that would remain unsolved.
“Do well for yourself, okay?”
Logan nodded silently, not trusting his own voice. Chris sighed and walked off to his platform. Logan watched him go, then turned and walked from the train station, his face solemn, his eyes holding back tears. In the distance, Chris turned and took a final glance at Logan before the foggy air wrapped him in it’s cold embrace. Little did they know that there was another witness to their sorrowful parting.


From Outside, Myoqi Layra watched with tears as the two friends separated.
“No!” she cried softly.
“You can’t leave him! Why are you hurting him?”
Layra was an Osmatrcian. An Observer. Tasked with watching the world and reporting to the Balancers, she was forbidden to interfere with the human affairs in any way, shape or form. Unlike most Osmatrac, this job gave her much pain. She was a sympathetic and empathetic creature by nature, whereas most Osmatrac weren’t bothered in the least by their job. She sat in her place, both her hands locked on the screen as she cried over Logan’s aching heart, her own heart beating with the same pain. She had chosen Logan from birth to observe, but now regretted it. She couldn’t see his whole life, but she could see a little bit of what would happen next. His life had been so sad, and what little joy could be found was now leaving him. And so Layra cried.



Anna was a high school student. She often came to this rooftop to listen to music, read, or watch the skies. She felt so free and close to the sky up here. Today the moon came out early, so Anna had brought with her a telescope to look at the beauty of the gentle white orb that hung from the endless blue. As she put the glass to her eye, she failed to notice the teenage boy climbing the building behind her. His tall form silhouetted against the afternoon sky, and swiftly descended to the lower roof with a few practiced leaps, landing with a roll and glancing over his shoulder at a group of masked men who also came over the edge behind him. He turned back, his eyes flaring red as he took off at a run, leaping over an AC unit as he hurried to escape his pursuers. He ran down into the abandoned building, underneath Anna as she listened to her music and slowly fell asleep.
It was dark when she finally awoke. Slowly and carefully climbing down from her perch, she began the long walk home. As she walked, the streetlights above her flickered, as though like a bad omen. She nervously glanced at them, continuing onward through the streets. She was just rounding the corner when a hand clamped over her mouth and she was dragged backward forcefully. She tried to scream, sure she was being kidnapped, but her kidnapper stopped still, frozen in place as a group of masked men whisked by, shouting unintelligible words at each other, and running as though chasing someone. As soon as they were out of view and earshot, the hand was removed from her mouth, and her assailant, or rescuer, pushed past her and began to run off. She grabbed his sleeve, and he spun around, for a moment looking into her eyes as she looked at him with mixed gratitude and suspicion, his face locked in her memory forever. He turned again and disappeared into the night like a vision, leaving Anna bewildered and afraid.


The next day at school, she sat amid the usually chaos of the classroom, smiling and laughing with her friends, but inside she was still questioning her experience. Had it all been a dream? it had to have been, right? But it couldn’t have been. Her cell phone’s camera bore the evidence of her outing the previous day. Then the boy must have been her imagination. He must have been, because there would be no reason for him to save her otherwise. He could have just left her be, and she never would have seen him. But then, if he was her imagination, were the other men unreal as well? Well, obviously so, seeing how she had hallucinated the entire experience. Her life was just too dull, that was it. It couldn’t have been anything else. And in any case, why bother herself about it. It wasn’t important. She’d never see the boy again, so what was the point? She nodded to herself, coming back to her senses as the bell rang for class to start. She took her seat and watched as her teacher, Mr. Black, walked in, followed by a new student. He turned and closed the door behind himself, so that she didn’t get a look at his face. Then he turned and bowed as Mr. Black introduced him as Jun Logan. He straightened up as the rest of the class also bowed respectfully, and she got a good look at his face. She sat back, startled, and his eyes locked onto hers, flickering in recognition. It was the boy! The boy from last night! What was he doing here? And how was he here? Then she looked down and realized that…
“Take that empty seat over there, Mr. Jun.”
And he came closer to her, their eyes locked on each other, and he sat down right next to her. She glanced at him in suspicion, slow to trust him. He caught her gaze and smiled a bit, a look of strange innocence about him.


Logan was amazed at the coincidence that the same girl he had rescued the night before was at the school Chris had enrolled him in. He marveled at this as he walked to the locker room for PE class. Today’s sport was soccer, something he used to enjoy playing one-on-one with Chris before he left. This thought only stirred up memories, so he shook his head, trying to get rid of them.
“Problem?”
He looked up in surprise. A boy his own age was standing there, a friendly smile on his face.
“Oh, no, just letting my mind wander, I suppose.”
“Well, make sure it comes back. You’ll need it for practice. I’m Julian, by the way.”
He offered his hand. Logan shook it.
“Nice to meet you.”
They walked along the hallway as they talked.
“Thinking of joining the team?”
“Oh, I’ve always liked soccer, but I don’t think I’m very good. I’m probably better at football or track. Those are more my style.”
“I’m sure you’ll do fine. No one’s perfect the first try.”
“What about you? Are you on the team?”
“With this body? No, I’m in writing club and student body stuff mostly. But I do like sports a bit. Now, Kyle, he’s the sport guy. Pretty popular. He’s in wrestling, soccer, high jump, and good grades besides. The ladies love him, but Anna’s the only one he’s got his eye on.”
“Anna. My deskmate?”
“That’s the one. You might not get along at first because of that, but he’s not a jealous guy, so you’ll be fine I guess. Come on, I’ll introduce you to the gang.”
“Gang?”
“The guys, the fellas, the bros, you know, the group of compatriots that every school has. We’ve got a truckload, ten, to be exact, myself included, all different types and statuses. You’ll like ‘em, I promise.”
They got to the locker room, and were immediately thrown into another world. Julian introduced him firstly to Stuart.
“He’s Student Body President, Class President, and honors student. Altogether, our leader.”
Next was Chandler and Blake, who seemed to be trying to wrestle each other into a locker, Chandler, a small giant, was winning, and both were laughing like idiots.
“Chandler does basketball and track, not very good grades though. Blake helps him out in that aspect, but neither are really that bright. Blake also does track, and soccer as well. He’s team captain. They spend a lot of time together, so tease them about being ‘in love.’ They’re not, but it’s still funny.”
The next guy was a tall, blonde, quiet kid who seemed almost emotionless at first. Julian introduced him as,
“Seth. King of the chess club and highest grades in the class. He’s on honors with Stuart and myself. Don’t be fooled by his looks. He’s a sweet and funny guy when you get to know him.”
The threesome they met next were called Laurie, Charlie and Shane.
“Laurie’s our medical student. Says he wants to be a doctor when he grows up, so he helps out as the nurse’s assistant most weeks. Charlie is in our school choir, but he’s still pretty popular, and he’s good at most sports. He could get on any team if he wanted, but he prefers singing, for some reason. He’s also an honors student. Shane here is my companion in the writing club, he’s in the chess club, and the book club. He loves sports, but as you can see, our bodies were built along the same lines, so it doesn’t work out mostly.”
The next member of this “gang” fit the description of gang perfectly. Trent had multiple ear piercings, a silver chain necklace with a bullet on it, and slanted eyes with dark circles under them, his black tank top and cargo pants adding to the effect. But contrary to his looks, He smiled and shook hands in a warm and friendly manner, with a polite hello.
“Trent is our martial arts expert here, not to mention he’s on the basketball team with Chandler and Laurie. Oh, did I forget to mention that Laurie does basketball too? Yeah, they’re all pretty tall. Oh, and this is Kyle.”
Logan met Kyle with a stiff handshake, but after a short conversation, they as good as old buddies. During soccer, they all had a chance to play, talk, and generally get to know one another, so by the end of the game, Logan had been widely accepted into their “gang,” and Anna, watching from the sidelines, began to wonder if she had just imagined his look of recognition. Perhaps her mind was playing tricks on her. Perhaps the boy she had hallucinated looked nothing like him, and she had simply linked the first new face she saw to the imagined memory. Of course, it made perfect sense. She tried to fool herself, but the only conclusion she could come to was that he had really grabbed her last night, and that his coming to this very school was all an insane coincidence. She buried her head in her hands and gave up on thinking.
“What’s wrong?”
The voice by her ear made her jump. She looked up to see Kyle sitting next to her.
“Oh! Kyle, you surprised me!”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out. So what’s the matter?”
“Nothing really. Just thinking, I suppose.”
“A dangerous path. What about?”
“Nothing. How’s soccer going? I can’t tell what’s going on out there. It makes no sense to me.”
“Soccer’s going fine. I think their team’s winning, though. But, I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while, and… well… Um…”
“What? What is it?”
“Will… will you go out with me?”
Anna stopped stock still.
“What?”
“Will you go out with me?”
She turned to face him. His face was earnest. Her heart fluttered, and she grinned widely.
“Yes, of course!”
Kyle smiled in relief.
“Great! Does this Friday work? I can pick you up at five.”
“That’d work fine! I’ll see you then!”
“Awesome! See ya!”
He walked away with a big smile on his face, and Anna was left sitting with her heart fluttering. She cheered his team on from the sidelines, smiling broadly. Logan glanced over at her, a brief light in his chest, as if a feeling of happiness had taken over for a moment. Then he looked back to the game, and it was gone. He pushed it aside unconsciously, the rest of the “gang” calling him back to the game, and as he kicked a goal, many high-fives and light punches in the shoulder ensued.


From high above, in darkness, Layra smiled, tears hanging from the corners of her eyes.
“You have at last found happiness and comfort in this sad life, Logan. I’m happy for you. Please, don’t ever be sad again.”

Tuesday, September 3, 2013

Apology

Alright, I realize this is super late, but I've had a super busy week, so I haven't written anything new on this story, and I know that's a lame excuse, but hopefully I'll have something new by next week. Again, I'm sorry. Maybe I'll turn it into a bi-monthly, or just a monthly blog, but for now, just be patient with me. Thanks! ;)

Monday, August 26, 2013

Time Shadows Chpt. 3

Enter the Enemy.


Megan had copied down the song from the sampler and was in her room reading it back to herself over and over again. No meaning sprang from the paper to her ready mind. She flopped back on the bed with a groan of frustration.
“Sheesh. You’d think Great Grandaddy would make this a little easier, wouldn’t you?”
Rolling onto her stomach, she responded to herself.
“Of course not. Great Grandaddy wanted to make it hard, so only a few people would find it. Namely me and Mason. Yeesh. Ya know, sometimes I wish I was as good at riddles as I am with stories.”
She rolled over again, lying with her head hanging over the edge of the bed, holding the paper in front of her eyes.
“This is going to be harder than I thought.”


In a small apartment about 50 miles away, two men slunk through the door. They stood behind a black swivel chair in sheepish silence.
“Well?” A quiet voice inquired. One man cleared his throat, then shoved the other man forward and stepped back. A small scuffle broke out, then the voice hissed, “Stop it!”
They both stood still, and one man said quietly,
“We followed him to her house, but the we lost them on the freeway. We still don’t know where he is, and he’s taken her with him.”
The person in the swivel chair stood up slowly.
“So, what you mean to tell me... is that not only have you made no progress at all with the McSanford boy, but you’ve lost the girl, too!”
“In so many words, yes,” said the second man. A hand lashed out, striking both men and flattening them to the ground.
“You idiots! The first lead in three years, and you bungle it! You are more than idiots! You are incompetent fools! Why do I even bother using you? You are useless morons who can’t even carry out a simple mission!”
The tongue lashed out just as harshly as the hands and the two men crawled away as their master slowed in wrath.
“Ah, what do you know. You aren’t even a part of the family. Just get out of my sight, and don’t bungle again. This time, keep a tighter watch on him. Or her, if you happen to see her. Maybe next time you won’t be quite as incompetent, and maybe I won’t kill you. Get out.”
The two men stumbled out of the apartment as quickly as bruised limbs would carry them. The figure sat back down in the swivel chair and looked out the window.
“It’s been a long time, McSanford, but this time, I will kill you, and end your line forever. You will never live to find the treasure. It’s all mine!”
A quiet laugh followed this statement. A laugh to freeze the blood in your veins, and turn your limbs to stone.


Mason was in the parlour inspecting the frame the sampler was in. He removed it from the wall and turned it over and over.
“There has to be something here. That song doesn’t make any sense as a clue.”
He looked over every inch of the picture and found a latch at the back. He flipped it open and the back of the picture fell open.






The door of Megan’s room flew open and Mason rushed in. Megan fell backwards off her bed in surprise, uttering a small cry. Mason stopped short.
“Are you okay?”
Megan groaned as she got to her feet.
“Sheesh, knock first why don’t you?”
“Sorry. I found something!”
“What!”
“Yeah! There was a piece of paper behind the sampler in the frame!”
“What’s it say?”
“Will you do the honours?”
Megan took the paper he handed her and read it out loud.


As verses tell of terrace cold,
Forget-me-nots and roses grow.
The search wears on for treasure old,
Know what you reap is what you sow.
Beneath the earth, though not the ground,
My secret waiting to be found.
A grave awaits the simple mind,
My clue is quite the clever kind.


Mason frowned.
“What does it mean?”
Megan facepalmed and sat down on the bed.
“Not another riddle! These stupid poems are driving me insane! How many more do we have to put up with?”
Mason sat next to her to get a better look at the rhyme.
“Hopefully not too many more.”
Megan handed him the paper and walked to the door.
“I’m getting a snack. Want anything?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
Megan shrugged and walked out of the room. Mason pored over the short rhyme, searching for meaning.


Again, 50 miles away in the “nearby” town, a teen boy by the name of Kyle, not much younger than Mason, was running through the streets, trying to avoid being seen by the two henchmen from the apartment. His shaggy brown hair hung in his wide brown eyes as he ran. His long legs took him out of town and into the woods just past the last shop. He knew their car couldn’t make it in the woods, and they would have to follow on foot. If he could keep away until nightfall, he’d be safe. But as he ducked into the fringe of the woods, two shots rang out from behind him. The men had caught up and were shooting at him. He freaked and ran further into the woods.
“I am so dead!” He gasped to himself. He ran as fast as he could, glancing constantly behind himself to see if they were close. He knew that there was a house deep in the woods, but he didn’t know how far in the woods, or if his legs would hold out that long. It was nearly an hour later when his legs finally gave out, and he collapsed into the brush, exhausted. He lay there for a moment, catching his breath, then giggled to himself.
“I’m being chased by two men with guns, for no apparent reason.”
He sat up and looked around.
“Well, I could turn around and head back to town...”
He scratched his head.
“Wherever that is.”
He giggled again and fell back into the dead leaves again.
“Or, I could stay here and figure out how to survive for as many days as it takes to find a way out of these woods.”
He put his hands behind his head and grinned.
“But first, a little nap couldn’t go wrong.”
He closed his eyes and fell asleep in seconds.


Kyle woke to the sound of yelling and gunshots.
“Aw, shoot! I was just at the good part! Guess I’m running again.”
He scrambled to his feet and took off again. The shouts followed him through the woods as he ran. Then, he suddenly tripped straight down a hole and landed awkwardly on his ankle. He fell hard onto a concrete floor. Wait... concrete? Kyle was just as surprised as anyone, but kept his mouth shut until he couldn’t hear the men anymore. Then he attempted to stand up, but fell back with a loud, “Yowch!”
He sat down again and looked at his ankle. It was red and swollen, and he knew he must have twisted it.
“Well, this puts a kink in the whole surviving thing.”


He scooted backwards until his back was against the grubby wall of a half-buried concrete building, then fell back asleep.

(Side note) Sorry for the short, and late, post, but I did warn you, to be fair. School started, and I've had a busy day. To anyone who read this, thank you for cooperating.

Monday, August 19, 2013

Time Shadows Chpt. 2

Of Manors and Mysteries.

Megan returned to the third floor after grabbing the flashlight from her room. It worked fine, and she began to search through the rubbish and cast-off furniture for anything interesting. She looked for hours, it seemed, and found nothing. The house was huge, and even one floor was hard to search properly. Following the floor plan, she returned to the staircase and walked down to the first level. Searching the third floor was tough, what with the dim light, the clutter, and the cobwebs. The first floor was a safer and easier idea, she thought. So she proposed the idea to Jared. He agreed that it might be easier, and even offered to help.
“I know my way around this place pretty well, as you might have guessed, so it’s probably a good idea for me to come.”
Megan agreed readily. So they set off, if that is relevant. Down many hallways and many rooms they looked, searching for something, anything, that looked interesting. Nothing was found. They returned to the parlour. Megan was disappointed. If Jared was, he hid it well. He sat down in a big armchair before the fireplace and stared at the empty grate. Megan sighed and flopped down on the fainting couch. She was sure there would be something there, but there was nothing anywhere. She looked up at the picture of James McSanford over the fireplace in resignation. That’s when she noticed something strange. His left hand was resting on a pace stick, but his right hand was pointing down and back, as if gesturing to something. She looked closely, and confirmed her suspicions. Inside the frame, just behind him, there was a low door, almost blending into the wall, but open wide enough to be visible. She looked around to see where it was. The room had changed so much since the picture had been painted, that she could no longer tell where it was.
“Jared, where was this picture painted?”
“Right here in this room, why?”
“Right there, under his right hand. Do you see it?”
He looked closely, then his eyes widened.
“A door! I can’t believe I didn’t see it before! I’ve been staring at this picture every day for four years and never noticed that! And the picture was painted here, so the door would be... right over here.”
Where he pointed was a wall covered by a big tapestry. He touched the wall gently, then pushed. There was a click, and the tapestry was pushed out slightly. Megan pulled it aside, and, sure enough, there was the door.

Both Jared and Megan stood dumbfounded for a moment, then Jared crouched down and pushed his way into the space behind the door. It was a small room with no light, filled with dust and cobwebs. Megan followed Jared inside. There was a small wooden table with a small metal box on it. Jared picked this up. He glanced at Megan, and they retreated from the small space. Megan crowded around him as he looked over the box slowly.
“What is it? Is it the treasure? A clue? What is it? What’s inside it?”
“Well, hold on a second while I figure that out, okay?”
Megan almost held her breath as he found the latch and the box fell open. She let out her breath in a harsh sigh of disappointment. There was nothing inside the box. Jared frowned.
“Nothing? That doesn’t make sense!”
“Maybe it’s, like, a false trail! You know, to keep people off track. People who shouldn’t be looking for the treasure. So, maybe we’re missing something important.”
Jared sighed and set the box on the end table.
“Maybe. Or maybe we’re just not looking in the right place. Maybe it’s not here at all. Who knows?”
He walked out of the room quietly, leaving Megan to her private thoughts. She left soon after for her room. In the big room, surrounded by old furniture and an old atmosphere, she felt strangely compelled, and knew what she could do. She pulled out her trusty ol’ laptop and searched mystery stories and the solutions. She came up with all sorts of ideas and theories for the metal box, but there were so many, she fell asleep at the desk, her head on her arms and her hands still on the keyboard. Jared, coming up with a late dinner and to check on her, found her thus. He carried her to her bed, then took the tray of food and went back downstairs. He sat in a little study on the first floor, fiddling with the little metal box. There was more to this puzzle than it appeared.
“What secrets do you hold, hmm?” he whispered to himself. After a while, the metal cube fell from his limp hand and he let out a sigh, finally asleep. Outside the mansion, shadows roved in the moonlight, the wind whispering to the trees secrets that the old house hid. And what other mysteries did the manor still hoard?

The next morning, Megan awoke in her bed and sat up. She had an idea as soon as her head left the pillow. She swiftly dressed and rushed downstairs. As she reached the parlour, she found it empty, and looked around for Jared. She eventually found him in the little study across the front hall. He was leaning back in an old armchair, fast asleep. He looked so peaceful, so calm. He actually looked like he was not being hunted by trained assassins out to murder both of them. She left him to get the rest he needed, and went to the kitchen to see what she could dig up. She found some biscuits and fresh fruit. She soon put together a nice meal with jelly biscuits, fruit smoothie and bacon that she found. She brought two plates of it into the parlour And set them down on the little table. As she began to eat, Jared came into the room, looking very tired and considerably ruffled. He sat down across from her and ate his food silently. She didn’t speak to him, knowing he was probably still waking up. Finally, he spoke.
“You make this?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s good.”
“How late did you stay up last night?”
“I dunno.”
“Go to bed. You look tired. Sleeping in an armchair probably doesn’t help, either.”
“I’m fine. We still need that clue.”
“I can find it myself, and you need sleep.”
“Fine. I’m going. Happy?”
“Perfectly.”
So Jared went up to bed, and Megan again examined the box, and much as she suspected, found nothing. So she went back to the secret room and searched the table. she found, carved on the underside, a rhyme in the wood. She quickly copied it down and took it out into the lighted sitting room. She went over it with great care.

The secret I hold,
What with greatest of care,
Hidden within,
None can find where.
Decipher this code,
And my secret I give,
The key is a letter,
A note of missive.
Begin with the darkness,
It’s not in the light.
The same as the ocean,
Nor the highest height.
I, not a soldier,
Nor over eighteen,
Not highest or lowest,
The key is between.

She put it down in despair.
“This is hopeless!” She groaned miserably.
“I knew I didn’t know anything, but this is ridiculous!”
She sat back and thought hard, but came up with nothing. She read it again, more slowly, and thought as hard as she could.
“The riddle seems to start here at ‘the key is a letter.’ What letter? What kind of letter? Like a letter in an envelope with a stamp, or one from the alphabet? I don’t get this at all. It was nearly twenty minutes later when Jared came back down, sporting a new outfit and looking well-rested. He found her sitting on the fainting couch with a grumpy look on her face.
“What’s wrong?”
“I found this, and I can’t figure it out.”
She flung the paper out at him, and he caught it in one hand. Straightening it out, he read through it.
“Wow. That is confusing. I have no idea.”
“See?”
“I thought you said you would figure it out all by yourself.”
“You know I was only trying to get you to bed.”
“So you can’t figure it out?”
“Stop teasing.”
“Fine, fine. I’m sorry. Now, let’s get down to business. How to decipher the clue.”
“I think the actual clue starts here, but I have no idea what it means.”
“Well, let’s look at it. It says a letter. What kind?”
“I dunno. What?”
“Let’s look at the next line. Maybe that’ll tell us.”
“Okay, um, ‘a note of missive.’”
“So it’s a letter from the alphabet.”
“How do you know?”
“I’m a musician. It has to be A, B, C, D, E, F, or G. Those are all musical notes. It’s gotta be one of them. See, it says ‘key,’ in the line before. That just insinuates that it’s music. Now we have to find out which note it is. What’s next?”
“Let’s see... It begins in the darkness, it’s not in the light.”
“Hmm, no, next.”
“The same as the ocean, nor the highest height.”
“Yes, I get it. The same as the ocean. It’s a C. That rhymes with ‘sea’. That’s what it is. But That’s not enough information. Where do we play it? Keep reading.”
“I, not a soldier, nor over eighteen, not highest or lowest, the key is between.”
“Middle C. But what’s all that about soldiers and eighteen?”
“I dunno. How old are you?”
“Seventeen. Why?”
“What would you call yourself, since you’re not in the army, or over eighteen?”
“A civilian?”
“I was actually thinking more along the lines of... um... What’s the word... Oh, yeah! Minor! Under eighteen, you’re a minor!”
“That’s genius! C minor! That’s a chord! I get it! Where do I play it, though?”
“Let’s check the box.”



Excerpt Diary Entry, March 19, 2013.
So there’s this big mystery that we’re solving, looking for that treasure, and It’s loads of fun, even if it is frustrating and hard. But I think I’m beginning to settle into this kind of fugitive life, and I’m not worried about my family anymore. Though I wonder what they’re saying about me at home.

They retrieved the box and looked it over. Then Jared pointed something out.
“Here, see? It’s a keyboard, like on a piano.”
“Well? Play the chord!”
So Jared played a C-minor on middle C, but nothing happened.
“What’s wrong?”
“Read the poem again.”
“Um... The key is a letter, a note of missive, begin in the darkness-”
“That’s it!”
“What?”
“It starts on the black key! Here, like this!”
He played the chord again, and this time there was a click, and a secret compartment opened, and inside was a small piece of yellowed paper with burn marks on the edges. Megan carefully took it between her fingers.
“This is the next clue then?”
“Looks like,” Jared said.
“Can you solve this one? I’m feeling a little hungry. I’ll go get some food for us both.”
“I’ll look it over, and we’ll see. But I’m not that hungry. Get something for yourself.”
“Okay. I’ll be back.”
Megan pored over the piece of paper for several minutes, then went to find Jared. She didn’t see him in the kitchen, then realized that she didn’t know what room he was sleeping in. She looked around, then came to the little study off the foyer. Except...
“Hey Jared, I think I...”
Jared spun around, surprised. But... Was it Jared? Megan’s hand dropped, the paper falling to the floor.
“M-Mason?” she faltered. The boy in front of her was not a brunette, nor did he have brown eyes. His hair was blonde, and his eyes were shocking blue. They both stood frozen, Megan a tear sliding down her cheek. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. He groped for words, nothing coming to his mind.
“I... I’m... so sorry...”
“Mason? You’re... Mason?”
No words came from Mason’s mouth. Megan turned and ran from the room, crying. Mason sat down hard on his chair, picked up the wig and contacts and threw them into the trashcan angrily. He put his head in his hands and sat still for a long time. A tear fell through his fingers and onto the floor. Megan had collapsed onto her bed upstairs and was crying silently her pillow soaked with tears.

Excerpt Diary Entry, March 19, 2013.
I... I can’t believe it! Mr. Mystery is Mason! I thought he died! But here he is, alive and well, and hiding out in the country for no reason. And he brought me out here with him! What on earth is he thinking! I can’t... I don’t... Why? I see puddles on the desk, and I’m afraid I’ll short-circuit the keyboard if I cry any more.

That night, Mason came in with tray of food and placed it on the window table. He glanced at Megan, who was lying on the bed. He saw tear stains on the pillow, and left quickly, his eyes downcast. When he had left, Megan glanced at the tray. She slowly got up and walked over. On the plate, next to some tomato soup, was a folded note. She picked it up and unfolded it. She read.

Megan,
I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I know it’s a shock, but I had to keep my identity safe from the people after us. I wanted to keep us both safe, and I don’t know how I can make up for it, but I’m very sorry. Please don’t hate me.

Megan dropped the note back on the plate and flopped back onto the bed. It was almost two days until she and Mason saw each other again. Megan came down to the kitchen for breakfast. Mason put out two plates, and they sat down to eat. They both kept their eyes down, Megan in contempt, and Mason in guilt. Finally, Mason spoke.
“Megan...”
“No. Don’t say a thing. You’ll only make it worse.”
“But I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to upset you!”
“You don’t get it! Three years! Three years I thought you were dead, and I cried over you. And the whole time you were just hiding from some people who probably don’t even exist!”
“They do exist! And I was only hiding to keep the people who I love safe!”
“Keep us safe? What about all the people that cried over you? What about the people who still think you’re dead? What about your family, who go through torture every day remembering you, and seeing nothing but an empty room, and an empty grave with your name on it? How would you like to be them, eh? How many people are you going to hurt just for some stupid treasure?”
“You don’t know what it’s like, Megan! You have no idea! Having to stay here all the time! Not being able to see anyone I know, not being able to speak to my friends, my family! Not being able to leave without fear that I could be killed at any second!”
“But I was here with you, to stay, I suppose, and you still didn’t trust me enough to tell me!”
“I’m sorry. But it was for your own good! I don’t want you to die, Megan!”
“You know what! Goodbye! I’m going upstairs to pack my things!”
Megan stood swiftly and slammed her fork on the table. Mason jumped up as she turned to go.
“You have no idea how I feel! Do you know what it’s like to have to lie like that? To have to make the decision I had to? Run away and hide, or come home, reassure my loved ones, and have them all die for me? Which would you do? Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I’d rather have you hate me then have you dead! I’d rather watch my family cry over me then cry over their dead bodies!”
Megan stopped and came back and sat down, her eyes still down. Mason sat down as well. They both began to eat again. Megan glanced up briefly, and saw Mason wipe his eyes on one sleeve. A tear fell into his plate. Megan turned away sorrowfully. She had no idea it hurt him this much. No wonder he had seemed so stiff before. They finished their food, and Mason brought out the scrap of paper. Few words were between them still, but there had been a quiet acceptance for both of them. The poem on the paper was short, but as confusing as the one before. Mason read it aloud.

“The next of keys is hidden
Within a morning song.
The rain of man which sees no end
Until the final wrong.
Placed beside the former clue,
The note to set you free.
Frozen inside cherrywood,
The work of Italy.”

Megan frowned.
“Well, I’m stumped.”
Mason nodded his agreement, then pointed out one line.
“Here, it says ‘placed beside the former clue’. Could that mean in the secret room?”
“Or beside the picture of our ancestor.”
“Good idea.”
They traversed back to the parlour and looked about the room. Megan glanced at the wall on both sides of James’ portrait over the fireplace. A thought occurred to Megan as she looked about.
“What does it mean, ‘frozen inside cherrywood’?”
“I’m not sure. Do you know what cherry wood looks like?”
“Well, as a matter of fact, I do. We went on a nature walk at school last year. It’s a kind of pinkish wood, and people usually finish it sort of red, like cedar.”
“So, like this.”
He pointed out a small picture on the wall.
“Yeah, sort of. More like this.”
She gestured to a frame hanging next to James’ portrait.
“Hey, could that be it?” Mason asked, walking over.
“I guess. What is it?”
“A sampler. It’s got a song stitched in.”
“What’s it say?”

I’m holding on to my dear life,
To the railing on the roof.
And the ground below me looks up
And says, “What are you gonna do?
Are you gonna throw it all away?
Are you gonna end it all,
Or not?

And I’m waiting for the phone to ring,
To hear your voice again.
‘Cause you’re the only one who can save me
From this dark and lonely end.
And it’s getting colder by the second
Surrounded by these forget-me-nots
And second thoughts.

And I want them to stop.
Please stop.
Stop.
Please stop.

Well, the concrete’s looking softer
Every second that I wait.
And the rain is stinging on my skin
As tears fall down my face.
And I hold your picture in my hand,
So you’ll be with me when I go.

And I recall the moments that led me to this,
All of my mistakes.
I say goodbye to all my memories,
And lies to my face.
‘Cause I was hurting on the inside,
So I hurt myself on the outside, too,
But then came you,

And you begged me to stop.
Please stop.
Stop.
Please stop.

And I walk up to the edge,
And I kiss your picture goodbye,
And I turn around and lean back,
And I see you with your hands out,

Screaming, Stop!
Please stop!
Stop!
Please Stop!

But you were just a little too late.
I touched your fingers on my way down,
Falling faster than I fell for you.
And when I look up,
I see you looking down on me,
You’re screaming, crying, begging, pleading, sobbing,

That’s when everything stopped.
Stopped.
Stop.
Stop.*

Megan had tears streaming down her face, and even Mason was wiping something out of his eye.
“That’s so sad!” Megan said, her voice shaking with emotion.
Mason didn’t say anything for a moment.
“Do you think it’s the clue?” he asked when his voice returned to normal. Megan shrugged, wiping her eyes dry quickly.
“I don’t know. What would it have to do with anything, and what’s this about ‘the work of Italy’?”
“It could be the writer of the song. Right here. His name’s Louis Rapattoni. That’s an Italian name. That could be it.”
“But the whole ‘song of morning’ part doesn’t fit in. There’s nothing in it about morning. No birds singing, no sunrise, no breakfast-”
“Wait, wait, say that again.”
“There’s no sunrise in it?”
“No, before that.”
“Nothing about morning in it?”
“No, no, earlier.”
“The whole ‘song of morning’-”
“That’s it!”
“What?”
“It’s not ‘morning song,’ it’s ‘mourning song’.”
“Huh?”
Megan looked confused.
“See, one is ‘morning’ like you said, with sunrise and birds and stuff, but the other is ‘mourning’ like grieving, and sadness, and stuff.”
“Oh! I get it! You’re a genius!”
Mason glanced away with a smile, and Megan blushed. Then Mason became more serious.
“But we still don’t know what the key is. How are we supposed to figure that out.”
Megan glanced up at the sampler and stared at it.
“I wonder what went through the head of whoever wrote this,” she said quietly. Mason didn’t answer. His eyes slowly turned from the sampler to Megan, then to the ground. Absorbed in her own thoughts, Megan failed to notice his expression as she turned around.
“Well, let’s get cracking, eh?”
“Yeah, I suppose,” Mason said, as cheerfully as he could.
___________________________________
Song written by Dalton Rapattoni of IM5. All credit to him.