Chapter 1: A Closed Mouth

Ottolie Whishart lives in Sect 23 of the Waneral Clan happily with her family and her best friend Indigo Odinshoot. When she finds a strange book on the beach, should she keep it despite the rules?

"A closed mouth catches fish. An open mouth catches flies." I thought in my head. It was a saying in our clan, reminding us that if were silent, our prey would be caught. I reminded myself of this as I slunk through the reeds, watching for any sign of movement. Waiting; it was something I was superb at. My patience was unmatched in my sect, which made me quite the exceptional fisherman (or woman).

After many minutes, I heard the high pitched squeak of a door opening. I slowed my breathing and relaxed my body, letting myself become almost invisible in the water. He walked through the back doorway, pushing his arm through the hole in his tank top. Straightening out his shirt, he stepped down off of the small wooden porch behind his house. A few more steps and he was right in my path. Feet away from me, he stood unsuspectedly, yelling to his father that he was going to his best friend's house. My house.

Without wasting any more precious time, I leapt up from the water and knocked into him. He grunted in surprised, falling over with the force of my weight. I grabbed his wrists, pinning him down with my weight. He stared up at me in surprise, his mouth agape.

"You'll catch flies like that Indie." I growled playfully. His astonished face slowly turned to that of recognition. Indigo laughed and let his body relax under me. I let go of his wrists and watched as drops of water from my hair fell on his face.

"For the love of Seros, don't scare me like that!" He chuckled, wiping the water droplets from his freckled, tan face. Before I had a chance to answer, he flipped me over and was on top of me, pinning me down just like I had done to him. "And I just got this shirt off the line," he commented. I looked down at his shirt, soaked by my clothes, which had been in the pond moments ago.

"Sorry, I couldn't help myself. You're just so easy to scare." I giggled, shaking my head and causing more water to spray right in his face. He stood up and offered me a hand. After pulling me up, Indigo used his tank top to wipe his face and neck. Without having to discuss it, we started making our way into town. Whenever we got together, we went into town to get some food together. My younger sister Winnow always bugged me, saying that they were dates. Indigo was my best friend, nothing more, not yet.

We stopped at a small bakery just inside the edge of town, and he bought a fresh loaf of bread. Keeping it wrapped safely in a cloth, we raced each other to the docks. A pastime we shared only with each other was going to the docks to eat, with our feet dangling just above the water. When Indigo stretched his feet down, he could dip his toes into the small waves. I, being a couple inches shorter than him, had to sit of the edge and stretch one leg down with much effort just to graze the water.

We sat down, panting with the effort of running. He'd beaten me by one stride, and he held the bread just out of my reach, his prize. After messing with me for a few more moments, we broke the bread in half and sat silently next to each other and ate. These were some of my favorite moments, those we shared in silence. It wasn't that I didn't cherish and heartily enjoy our conversations and our laughs. I just valued the importance of slowing down, letting silence take over. The ability to be perfectly content with one's company without a word being spoken was the mark of a true friendship to me.

I looked at my best friend sitting on my right, wordlessly munching on his 'prize' which he had oh so graciously shared with me. Indigo was pointedly darker, since it was nearing the end of warm season. His tan skin seemed to go perfectly with his wavy dark brown hair, parted at the side and pushed back carelessly with his finger every day. His thin nose, which he hated, crinkled as he turned and smiled at me.

"What?" he asked, catching me staring. I shook my head, looking back out at the ocean. He elbowed me, almost making me drop my bread. After having it bounce from hand to hand for a few moments, I regained balance and caught it. Indigo chuckled, looking back out at the ocean like I had been. I glanced at him again, looking just long enough to capture his serene smile. He always looked to be completely content. If I didn't know him so well, I would have believed it too.

Indigo had a painful past. We all did, in our own ways. His was raw though, something he never forgave himself for. His mother, who I'd heard from adults around the town was the kindest woman one could meet, died during child birth. Indigo survived, but his mother didn't share his lucky fate. His father handled it quite well, and took care of Indigo as a single father better than most couples would have been able to. His older brother Raff, however, did not share his father's love for Indigo. Being six years older than his younger brother, he remembered losing his mother. Ever since Indigo was born, Raff hated him. Over the years Raff had targeted Indigo, making him the brunt of all of his cruel jokes. He hurt him, sometimes to the point that I had to nurse him back to health for days before sending him home.

Raff was living on his own then. After all, he was twenty-three years old. Indigo was thankful for the peace finally, I could tell. But sometimes he still brought up the beatings, trying to figure out if there was anything he could have done. My words were always the same. "You can't change the past, so leave it there." He'd always just nod but continue on. I would always listen dutifully, taking in every word he spoke, every drop of his pain. I loved the boy, and wished I could take his past from him and fix it for him. Every time he'd come to my window beaten and cast down, I'd wanted to protect him. 

We'd been sitting quietly for the better part of the afternoon, and the bread was long gone. My thoughts had taken the time away from me, and I turned around and looked at the sky over the town. The sun was making its way down to the horizon, just touching the tops of the small buildings. The dull pink and orange colors told me I had to be home soon to cook. My father always got home late from the port, hungry after a long day's work. My mother, who was a school teacher, came home exhausted every day. I prepared supper to make things a bit easier on them.

"Hey Indie, I better head home. Supper." I said, breaking the long silence we had been sharing.

"No problem, I'll see you tomorrow right?" He asked. I nodded as we both stood and made our way off the old rickety dock. We parted ways in town, and as I walked home, I decided to treat myself to a walk on the beach along my way. Weaving through short buildings, I quickly found the shore. A sslight smile crept onto my lips as I felt the cool sand weave its way between my toes. The beach was my home, the place I truly belonged. Most people in the Waneral Clan felt that way. It was our source of food, energy, and life. We depended on it just as a child depends on its mother. I felt as comfortable on the sand and in her waves as said child felt against its mother's bosom.

As I was walking, studying the waves carefully, wondering how our ocean continuously danced for us, I noticed something dark brown in the wet sand. Unable to fight my curiosity, I quickly jogged over to pick it up. I should have known better, knowing the rules of our clan. The only things to be taken from the ocean were sources of food and the occasional seashell. Anything else from the ocean belonged to her, unless it was a human object. Then it was the property of the clan's leaders. 

When I turned the object over in my hands and realized it was a book, that was when I really should have left it where I had found it. Books were the worst things to find, and if it was known that a citizen found a book and didn't report it, they were severely punished. We never knew what the punishment was, but in school it had been made overly clear that it was a punishment you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy.

Regardless of my knowledge of my potential punishment, I tucked the damp book into the waist of my shorts and continued on my way. If only I had known all the trouble it would bring me.

That night, under my blanket and with the window closed, I opened the book carefully. Holding a candle in the other hand, I strained to see the faded writing in the low light. It seemed to be a journal of some type, written in a strange, gray sort of ink. I wondered what it was, and how it had not run in the water like normal ink did. I frowned, trying to interpret the messy, loopy writing. Whoever had written the book had absolutely terrible penmanship. All of the letters seemed to connect to one another in each word. After a bit of squinting, I was able to distinguish the letters apart. 

Tuesday, April 11th, 2034

Today on the news, they showed the burning of the White House. It's really happening, this war. I'd always kind of thought it out of reach, that somehow it wouldn't get to this point. We're here though, all of us. The whole world is at the point of no return now. This is World War III.

I stared at the blurry letters, rereading the sentence again and again. World War three? I couldn't imagine a war involving the whole world. All eight clans fighting each other would be a nightmare.

Thursday, April 13th, 2034

Soldiers came to my door today, demanding food. Everyone in the city is scattered. It's like the whole country has given up and is folding in on itself. Soldiers who are supposed to protect me, raiding my home for supplies? This isn't right at all. I hate to say it, but I'm scared.

The president is still alive according to the news. He wasn't there when it was bombed, so that's good. It still doesn't change the fact that we were attacked though. A lot of people are saying it was China. The older people won't budge on their view that it was Russia. With the Soviet Union days so long gone, I really doubt it's them, especially with the bombing in Moscow yesterday. Some are even saying that it was us who did that. I doubt that either. I don't know what's going on, or who is to blame, but this is a big mess we've gotten ourselves into as a country.

There's talk of a nuclear attack. I pray to God it doesn't happen. I don't even know who would be attacking who. The government has been so secretive with us. I'm not the type to pump out government conspiracies or claim withheld information, but I'm wondering if what they tell us is all that's going on…

Friday, April 14th, 2034

How, in just a few days, the country lost all of its morals is beyond me, but there's nothing we can do to make a turn around now. There are fights in the streets, a man dead outside my apartment building's front door. Sides have been taken. I don't know how this world war turned into such a civil war. People are looting buildings and stores. 

While everyone has been fighting with each other, there were more bombings from outside the country. Queens is in ashes, same with San Diego, and St. Louis. They're targeting our power cities, the cities most highly populated and important. I think I should get out of town. I think Philly will be one of the next targets. 

I've packed two bags, one for clothes and sentimental belongings. The other is a survival kit, including a sleeping bag, a first aid kit, and things I'd need to survive out on my own. I'm even bringing my pistol, the one from my grandfather that I keep in the safe below my bed. Once I leave this apartment, I doubt I'll ever be able to return.

I'm going to go to Lily's place before I leave, to try to convince her to join me. We haven't been together that long, only about half a year. I can't stand the thought of leaving her to die in this city though. I'll go to her tomorrow. I hope she agrees join me. I don't want to do this alone. 

I decided to stop there, I forbidding feeling slicing its way through my chest. I was violating somebody's privacy, even though they were more than likely dead. I thought hard on the events unfolding in the book, wondering if they were really true or not. Maybe it was just a fantasy story someone had been writing in their free time. I wrapped the delicate book in a kitchen cloth and slid it underneath my mattress, saving it for the next day.

Once I'd blown out the candle, I opened the window slightly, just enough to hear the ocean. I sighed, letting my body relax in my familiar bed. Questions raced through my head, and I tried to quiet them, but my mind kept turning back to the book. By the time I fell asleep, it was extremely late. I was going to be very tired the next day, I knew it. 

Author's Note

Please let me know what you think. The next chapter will be longer I hope!

Reviews

[Talal Hussain]

Great stuff...went through the intro and it looks awesome..great use of words and a very sharp content..

[Physiology Fan]

Thank you! I'm hoping I'll keep up with this book well.