Wings of Paper - Chapter 1

An Unexpected Meeting

I heard a rustle in the bushes behind me and my mind immediately snapped to the conclusion that it was a bear and I was going to die. Let’s just say I wasn’t an optimist. 

What popped out of the bushes was so much worse: a girl. 

I was out for my daily walk in the woods behind my house to clear my thoughts. See, I really enjoyed writing stories and the only way for me to get inspiration was to wander around the woods for hours on end. Not the safest option, I know, but it worked. 

“Alex?” I asked, recognizing the girl’s dark hair and bright blue eyes. Heat rose to my cheeks and I forced myself not to be weird, which was a struggle. “What are you doing here?” 

“Looking for you, actually,” Alex admitted. My stomach dropped.  

Why would a girl - a pretty girl nonetheless, be looking for me? Maybe she thought I was someone else. Yes, that was  it. 

“Oh, um, yeah, that’s great. You found me,” I shrugged and gave a nervous laugh, internally screaming at myself for being so stupid. Of course my brain would choose this moment to desert me. 

Alex gave an anxious chuckle too, her eyes darting around the trees and scanning for any sign of danger. “I was looking for you for two things,” she began slowly. “One, because we have an English project due tomorrow and you’re my partner. I guess you were too busy daydreaming to notice.” 

The insult burned and shame rose in my throat. 

Bad habits were hard to break and I couldn’t quite stop daydreaming in class. Alex probably hated me. No, not probably, she absolutely hated me. I could see the look in her eyes like she wanted to slap me. 

“Sorry?” Why did I have to be so weird? 

Alex rolled her eyes, sighing. She placed her hands on her hips before looking at me again. “It’s fine. I figured we can go back to your house and work on it there.” 

My parents would like that more than I cared to admit. A friend over for dinner - not to mention the fact that Alex was a girl! They would be ecstatic. I sighed, weighing the options. “Fine,” I answered at last. “You can come over. Oh, and what was the second thing?” 

Alex shrugged, now she seemed like the uncomfortable one. 

I began the walk back towards my house and Alex matched my pace before answering. “I’ve heard from some kids at school that you like to write and I was just wondering if, I don’t know, I could read some of your work?” 

Yeah, that was definitely not happening. 

The thing is, one of my characters may or may not have been subconsciously based off of Alex. And if she found out I would lose my only chance at friendship. Ever. 

“Sure,” I lied, hoping maybe Alex would forget. She probably wouldn’t and I would be screwed, so I changed the topic instead. “My parents won’t be home for about another hour, but my sister is home.” 

“That’s fine,” Alex said. “My parents won’t even notice if I’m gone, so I can stay for as long as it takes to finish the project.” 

“And start it, you mean,” I added before silently cursing. Alex was probably super upset that we hadn’t even started the project yet. She didn’t show it, but I could feel the tension between us like two magnets pushing against each other. 

We made it back to my house in silence and I slid open the screen door in the back. Immediately, screaming began upstairs and I sighed. 

“It’s just me, Hailey!” I called. The screaming silenced and I stepped inside, Alex at my heels. I noticed that she was carrying a bag full of supplies. Footsteps sounded down the stairs and a small figure appeared out of the shadows. 

Hailey’s pixie-like appearance made her look more innocent than she actually was. With straw colored hair and bright eyes she looked like a fairy straight out of a book. 

But her personality was one of a fierce lioness. 

“You brought someone with you. Is it a wood-nymph or a figment of my imagination?” Hailey crossed her arms over her yellow sundress. For being eleven she pretended she was older quite a lot. 

“Her name is Alex and we’ll just be going to my room now.” I grabbed my own school bag off the ground and slung it across my shoulder before turning to Alex. “My room is upstairs, we can work on the project in peace up there.” Alex didn’t seem to mind the fact that we would be alone together so I made my way up the steps. 

“You two better not kiss!” Hailey threatened as I slammed my bedroom door. 

Alex was looking around my room, taking in the surroundings. I made the layout simple; a bed, a bookshelf, a desk, and a closet. But maybe Alex was just as inexperienced with other people as I was because she seemed in awe of everything. 

“So, what’s the project about again?” I asked, flopping down on the ground and pulling a notebook off of the stack on my desk. 

“Imagery,” Alex noted blankly, still staring at my room like it was a foreign planet. 

Perhaps it was to her. 

  “Imagery,” I muttered under my breath. It seemed easy enough. “What exactly do we have to do?” 

Alex turned to look at me and rolled her eyes again. Yup, she definitely wasn’t a fan of me. “Seriously? How are you even passing?” I shrugged - I didn’t know the answer either. “We have to present something to share with the class what imagery is and how author’s use it.” 

Then she mumbled something about “pathetic” and “boys”. 

I traced my pencil over the blank notebook page absentmindedly. The small movement soothed my nerves until the door swung open and Hailey stood in the doorway. 

“There’s someone at the door.” The words were spat at me with disgust. 

“And? Can’t you answer it? We’re busy here,” I replied. A lie, of course. And Hailey knew it too.

“Mom and Dad said I can’t open the door to strangers. And you’re not busy.” 

“It’s fine,” Alex told me, but her voice sounded frustrated. I silently cursed again. The only chance to make a friend and I blew it. 

I sighed and made my way down the steps to the front door, muttering some words about my evil sister. I opened the door and didn’t hesitate to begin the speech I was forced to recite weekly. “We don’t want girl scout cookies, we don’t want solar panels, and we aren’t interested in your survey.” 

Saying that was clearly a mistake because someone punched me in the stomach. I doubled over, gasping for air as a group of people began to walk into my home. “Hey!” I yelled, but they ignored me. 

I counted five of them, but my vision was too blurred by tears to see anything more clear than a vague outline. 

“Is there anyone else here?” the person who had thrown me aside asked. The voice was male but still young, probably about my age. It was not the voice of a girl scout and I had underestimated these intruders. 

“I’m sensing two people upstairs, but their minds are strangely quiet.” This came from the person who had punched me, and it sounded feminine but also my age as well. 

“It’s the Darkness,” the first voice said. I couldn’t tell what they were talking about but by the way “Darkness” was said it sounded important. “What about him? Can you see who is up there?” 

Strong hands forced my back to straighten out and I stood tall, a blade was pressed against my throat. First bears, now kidnappers? 

The second voice seemed to sigh before continuing. “I can’t hear him at all.” 

Hear me? I wasn’t speaking. Yet earlier the second voice had mentioned something about sensing minds. Telepathy sounded familiar and my stomach plummeted as I realized that I almost recognized the voice too. 

“Kenzie?” The name passed between my lips before I could stop myself and I sucked in a sharp breath as my vision cleared. 

A girl who could easily be related to Alex was standing before me, her hair the same dark waves and her skin the same crisp tan, however her eyes were black as ink. She was just as I had imagined when I wrote her into existence. 

My dining room was filled with fictional characters I had created. 

The first voice belonged to a prince named Hiro, his dark hair contrasting against his pale skin, his eyes narrow. 

Beside him was a small girl with blonde ringlets and eyes as green as a forest canopy. Princess Sadie, of course, from an elvish kingdom. And standing protectively behind her was Sammy, her bodyguard but also her friend. 

So who was behind me? I couldn’t spin around far enough to see. 

“What did he say?” Kenzie whispered to Hiro. The sword in her hand flashed wickedly in the bright light. “Did he say my name?” 

“Kenzie,” I repeated. The sword flashed again until the tip was pointed at my nose. A slithery panic feeling was working its way down my arms and legs, making my knees shake and my fists clench. “Please don’t kill me.” 

“How do you know my name?” Her voice also shared a similar tone as Alex’s. Maybe because I subconsciously based Kenzie off of Alex. 

“Luke? Is everything okay?” It was Alex from upstairs. Kenzie glanced upwards and I tucked the opportunity to slam my foot backwards into whoever was holding me and dart away from their grip. My captor was a man, a young one at that. I didn’t know him at all. 

“I’m fine,” I shouted, drawing Kenzie’s attention back to myself. “Just some, uh, hostile girl scouts. Nothing to be concerned about.” 

I blushed and turned to smile at Kenzie, but her sword was already pointed at me again. 

“How do you know my name?” she snarled and I forced myself not to freak out. My mind was spinning from the fact that ALL OF MY STORIES WERE COMING TO LIFE! My heart was racing due to the sword pointed at my chest. I couldn’t think straight enough to answer at first, but a jab with the sword forced the lump out of my throat. 

“I know you because I created you.” The words came out soft and tender, but Kenzie didn’t seem impressed. 

“He’s puny but also adorable, can we keep him?” Princess Sadie asked, jumping up and down. I was surprised to see she wasn’t wearing a puffy dress but rather a t-shirt with kittens on it and a jean skirt. 

Kenzie ignored the smaller girl. “You are not the Creator. Tell me where he is.” 

“The Creator?” I asked. I was the creator of the world these … These people called home. But Kenzie didn’t seem impressed by my appearance. 

“The man who created our world,” Hiro confirmed. His voice was just as I imagined, tough but also sweet at the same time. “We were told by the ancient texts that he lived here, and we seek his help.” 

“Luke?” It was Hailey this time, her voice sounding a bit nervous. “They don’t sound like girl scouts.” 

“They’re hitting growth spurts,” I called back in reply to her. “Stay upstairs, they’ll be gone in a minute.” I directed the last part of the statement at Kenzie, who flinched but didn’t move the sword. “Look, I don’t know who ‘The Creator’ is but I’m the one who created your world. I created you.” 

She glared at me, but something clicked and her features softened. 

“It can’t be,” Hiro said, his voice barely a whisper. “The ancient texts described him as - well, they didn’t describe him at all. But I would’ve expected someone …” His voice trailed off as he met my eyes. 

So now the hero I created was going to call me puny? Wow, the universe really hated me. 

And at that exact moment I heard footsteps again and both Hailey and Alex appeared at the bottom of the steps. Hailey’s face lit up in surprise and Alex dropped my notebook to the ground with a thump. 

“Who are they?” Kenzie spat, nodding her head towards Hailey and Alex who were frozen with fear. 

“The little one is my sister and the other one is…” I didn’t know what to call Alex.

“Expendable acquaintance,” Alex finished for me, her eyes narrow. Crap, she was going to see that Kenzie looked like her and… 

“You look familiar,” Kenzie said, her eyes tracing Alex’s forms. “But we’ve never met.” 

“Obviously,” Alex rolled her eyes. “Luke, could you please explain what’s going on here and why a bunch of crazy people are in your house?” 

“I, um…” I didn’t know how to answer her. Apparently the hope that Alex and Hailey would stay upstairs was too far fetched. Hiro mentioned needing my help earlier, or help from ‘The Creator’. And there was no way I was dragging Hailey and Alex into this. 

“I can’t do this,” Kenzie sighed at last. 

Before I could react she swiped her sword across my shoulder, drawing a thin line of blood that trickled down my arm. I gaped at her but she held out the sword to Sammy. 

The bodyguard took a finger and wiped some of my blood off of Kenzie’s sword before sticking his finger in his mouth with my blood on it. Hailey pretended to throw up and Alex wrinkled her nose. Disgusting. 

Sammy’s eyes widened and he and Kenzie shared a look. I guess Kenzie was reading Sammy’s mind because they seemed to have a secret conversation before Hiro tapped her on the shoulder and she met his eyes. Hiro gasped another look my way, shock echoed in his features. What were they talking about? 

As much as I would have loved to find out, I decided that this was enough. Sending a helpless glance towards Alex and Hailey, I turned tail and ran. The door was open and my path to freedom was straight. I heard Kenzie yell for someone to grab me. 

Feet pounding, heart racing, thoughts blurring together, I ran. Confusion pooled in my stomach and I wondered if maybe I finally snapped. 

Alex coming to find me should have been my first warning. As for the whole book character thing, I probably hit my head somewhere. Maybe I was unconscious at the bottom of the steps or in the middle of the woods. 

I must have looked insane to my neighbors, but at this point I didn’t care. All I wanted was an escape from these crazy people in my house. 

Then I heard footsteps behind me. I went into panic mode, freaking out and slamming my fists around as I ran. Unfortunately, my flailing arms did nothing and something slammed into the back of my head. I tripped - not heroic at all - and fell face first, barely managing to catch myself before my face hit the ground. 

“I’m sorry it had to come to this,” someone whispered and I felt something wrapped around my mouth and nose. 

“Stop,” I tried to plead, but my voice was raw from whatever sedative these people were using. I felt my mind detach from my body and darkness crashed over me like a wave over a boat. 

“Shh, he’s waking up.” The words echoed around the dark cave that was my head. At first I thought I was in the hospital waking up after a bad fall and week long coma. The voice sounded very vaguely like my father’s, but not entirely similar. 

I opened my eyes, expecting to see bright white lights and scrubs, but instead I saw Hiro’s face. Features I knew so well yet had never seen before. 

The events of the previous day came rushing back to me and I groaned. 

“Is he hurt? Sick? Dead?” That was Sadie’s voice, panicked and fluttery. If the situation would have been different I would have been flattered. 

Except I was draped across an old sofa, the other characters I created sitting across from me and staring like I was their savior. They probably expected me to be - unless they saw my majestic trip on the sidewalk earlier. 

“I’m alive,” I said, trying to sound confident and failing miserably. My whole body hurt. 

“So, what was the whole ‘run away’ thing about?” Kenzie asked, her voice bitter. Part of me wondered why she hated me so much. The other part was screaming at me to run away again. I listened to the first one. 

“Well, it’s kind of been a long day. First a bunch of fictional characters decide to break into my house and interrogate me. Sorry, next time I’ll have a better and more reasonable reaction.” It was hard to keep bitterness from my own voice. These people didn’t understand that most humans in my world didn’t experience this sort of thing. 

“Sounds logical,” Hiro replied before Kenzie could say anything. “I would have done the same thing in your situation. And your sister and girlfriend did too.” 

“She’s not my girlfriend,” I said quickly, blushing and earning a snort from Sammy, Kenzie, and the other guy I didn’t know. So Hailey and Alex had run away too? Where were they? “And exactly where are they? I kind of need to talk to them and explain what just happened.” 

“They’re fine,” Kenzie answered. “We only need to speak to you. Kip, can you explain?” 

She gave a pointed look towards the young man I didn’t recognize. His blonde hair was cut short and his pale face was marred with scars. The name Kip wasn’t familiar to me. 

Kip’s voice was low and rough when he spoke. “First of all, I assume you know who all of us are and where exactly we are?” 

I shrugged, trying to gouge exactly where I knew him from. The more I thought about it the more I began to recognize him. The realization wasn’t entirely clear, but I knew he was from a different story than the others.

As for where we were… the walls were made of stone, suggesting that we were inside some sort of castle or tower. The two tiny windows were cracked but they were too far away for me to peer through. 

I tried to answer to the best of my ability. “I know Kenzie, Hiro, Sammy, and Sadie for sure. As for Kip, he comes from the world of dragons. And we’re in an abandoned tower, though I can’t tell exactly where. Probably in Sadie and Sammy’s kingdom because they use stone for most buildings.” I crossed my arms and a smug grin stretched across my face. 

Kenzie gave a slow clap. “Look who thinks he’s so smart.” I had to bite back a retort. 

“He’s right about the dragon thing,” Kip clarified, raising an eyebrow. “I’m a dragon trainer for your information. I trained Hux for Arya.” 

So that was where I knew him from. Arya was the main character in my story about dragons and she bought her dragon, Hux, from a man named Kip who trained and sold dragons. 

“And it is my kingdom,” Sadie said, sounding impressed. 

“Yes, but who would know all of this information?” Kenzie asked, her eyes sinking into a glare pointed straight at me. I shrunk back into the sofa. “Surely an assistant of our enemy would know this much.” 

“Calm down, will you?” Hiro raised his arm in front of Kenzie as if trying to protect me. I appreciated the gesture, but I was more confused by what Kenzie had said. An enemy? 

“I’m sorry, did I miss something?” I sounded weak and confused. 

Hiro turned to look at me, his eyes filled with pleading. “Our world is in danger, Creator. And we need your help to fix it.” 

Author's Note

The beginning might be a little rocky because it's hard to know what the reader knows and differentiate that between what I know. If it's too confusing just let me know and I'll edit for clarification.

Reviews

[JayG]

• The beginning might be a little rocky because it's hard to know what the reader knows and differentiate that between what I know.

A very wise observation. Damn few realize how much that matters. Fewer know that the solution is simple because that solution is professional knowledge of the Fiction-Writing profession, none of which we learn in our school days. Why? Because all professional skills are acquired in addition to the set of general skills traditionally called, The Three R’s.

There, we’re given skills to make useful to employers, which is why you were assigned endless reports and essays—nonfiction writing, meant to inform the reader. But no one ever explained such basics as the three issues we need to address on entering any scene—or even what a scene on the page is. And if you don’t know that, how can you write one?

In looking at this story, the methodology you used is to transcribe yourself telling the story to an audience. But that drops in all kinds of problems:

1. That kind of storytelling is a performance art. HOW you tell the story matters as much as what you say, because that’s where the emotional part lies. But can the reader hear the emotion in the narrator’s voice that you do? No. Can they react to your visual performance? Again no. Do they have even the slightest idea of the emotion you want them to place into the narrator’s voice? Nope.

But…you can hear that emotion as you read. And you perform as you read, with expression changes and gestures. You also know the characters, their desires and backstory, and more—plus your intent for how the reader should take the words. So for you, it works perfectly. Have your computer read the chapter to you. And if you’re brave, have a friend with no acting talent (the average reader) cold-read it to you. Don’t tell them it’s your writing, so they won’t “hear” the way you speak as they read. And while they read, stand where they can’t see the horror on your face as they read. It’s a humbling, but informative experience.

2. Because you wrote, and know the story in detail, the things you left out because they seemed obvious to you will be filled in as you read, and you’ll not notice that it’s missing. And because you lack the techniques the pros take for granted, you can’t fix the problems you don’t see as being one. As the great Mark Twain put it: “It ain’t what you don’t know that gets you into trouble. It’s what you know for sure that just ain’t so.”

3. On stage you’re alone, so, of necessity, the viewpoint is yours. You can make them know what happens, and talk about how the character feels, in overview. But you cannot take the audience to the place that writing does: into the protagonist’s mind, in the moment the character calls "now." You can’t make the reader BECOME the protagonist as they read. Watching a film I’m sure that you’ve been moved to shout advice to the protagonist. Reading fiction, I’m sure you’ve done the same thing. But…can you see yourself, when a storyteller mentions that the protagonist is about to go down the basement steps into danger, shouting “Don’t go,” to the storyteller? Of course not.

Why not? Because in the film and the fiction YOU were with the protagonist on-the-scene, and living the story in real time. But with a storyteller you’re only hearing it second hand, and in overview. The storyteller compensates for that through their performance. And as a storyteller, I can tell you that in person, it works. But reading a transcription of that has all the excitement of reading a transcription of the announcer at a football game.

So…why did I dwell on this as I did? Because the problem you face isn’t one of talent or how well you write. It’s that every medium has its own mandates, imperatives, and, “For God’s sake don’t do that!” You recognize that to write a script, or work in journalism you need more than we get in school. But like everyone, you missed the critical point that the word “writing,” that’s part of the profession, Fiction-Writing, does NOT refer to the skill of that name we’re given in school. And THAT’S the problem you need to address.

Nonfiction informs. Fiction provides an emotional experience. Go back to that spooky basement I mentioned. As you read, do you want to be told that the protagonist feels fear? Or do you want the writing to make a chill run down YOUR spine? As E. L. Doctorow put it, “Good writing is supposed to evoke sensation in the reader. Not the fact that it’s raining, but the feeling of being rained upon.” No way in hell can your school day writing do that.

So... I can help you solve that problem in two ways. First, the articles in my WordPress writing blog are meant to give a feel for the differences between the kind of writing we learn in our school days and what we need for fiction. So it might help to dig through a few. There are even a few stories there to show those techniques in action.

Then, if it makes sense, and seems worth pursuing, download, Dwight Swain’s, Techniques of the Selling Writer from this site:
https://ru.b-ok2.org/book/2640776/e749ea

I’ve found no book better at giving you the basic nuts-and-bolts issues on creating a scene that sings to the reader, and linking them into an exciting, and cohesive whole.

You’ll spent a lot of time saying, “But that’s so…why didn’t I see something so obvious.” That’s fun till the tenth time makes you wonder what’s wrong with you to have missed so much.

But when you master those skills and practice it till it’s as automatic as the nonfiction skills you now use, writing becomes a LOT more fun. You no longer tell the protagonist, and the other characters, what to say and do. They tell you. Try to make a character do something that makes no sense to them and they’ll put hands on hips and say, “Hell no. I won’t do that.” And when they do, they’ve become real to you, and the reader.

So jump in. And while you do, hang in there, and keep on writing.

Jay Greenstein
https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/category/the-craft-of-writing/the-grumpy-old-writing-coach/