Endfall (2 page)

              “So, could you please tell me who you are?” Milo asked in a whisper. They were near a large pile of fallen trees that had frozen over with sleek ice. A light snow came from the sky.

              “Ssshhh! Come here.” The girl was hiding behind a fallen tree that lay off to the side of the enormous pile of trees, with only her head peeking out. Milo obeyed, hiding behind the tree beside her.

              “Do you live in Salem?” Milo asked. He got the same response as before. He decided now to be completely silent.

              “Do you want to see the lynx or not?” She whispered sharply. “Look.” Both of them slowly looked over the fallen tree.

              At the top of the pile of trees, was the lynx. It was magnificent. It held its head up high, with pride. It was a beautiful sight. The huge cat seemed almost godlike, the last of its kind. Milo and the girl looked at each other, both had the same expression. Wonder.

              Shift. Milo felt something dark. Deep in his mind, he could feel something.
Is it her?
She shot him a confused look. Milo had forgotten that this girl could somehow read his mind. But Milo knew something was wrong here. He looked back at the lynx, which stood in the same place, still as a statue. Then the lynx began to walk back down the side of the tree pile he came from. In just a few moments, he was gone. Milo got back down and let out a sigh of relief.

              Milo forced himself. “Who are you?”

              She looked away. “Does it matter who I am?”

              Milo was struck with a pot of confusion and a light dread. He began to speak, but then paused. He couldn’t think of the right thing to say. “Yes.” She was silent.

              Milo wondered about the scar on her face.
What happened? Perhaps I shouldn’t ask.
He looked at her. She seemed worried about something, the expression on her face, the look in her eyes. Hers were very dark, Milo noticed. He thought of the scar again. The moonlight was shining brighter now, the dim blue mist creeping into the forest and creating an interesting light from the falling snowflakes.

              “Why won’t you tell me?” He asked.

              Her response came sooner than he thought. “Some questions are not meant to be answered.”

              Milo took these words in and they made themselves a home inside the complex folds of his mind. It made sense, and he decided he wasn’t going to ask again, for now he realized that there was a very easy chance he won’t see her again. It was dark now, and much colder as it had been before. They had been sitting behind the tree in the snow for so long it was almost as if they had a layer of permafrost on their skin. Milo could feel the sharpness of the wind now.

              “Your ears are nearly blue.” She said and she laughed. They broke the quiet silence of the forest with their conversations on the way back to the dinner hall. But there was something that bothered Milo. Throughout the night, he still wondered what it was that he felt before the lynx wandered off into the trees. That dark feeling that something was wrong, it had drifted away once the lynx was away, but he still felt a small bit of it lingering in the back of his mind. It was dreadful.

              “Stop here for a moment,” said the girl, stopping. They stood now in the open field where the grass had frozen over; just a short walk’s distance away was the dinner hall.

              “What is it?” asked Milo.

              “Do you remember the days when they executed the children who grew blue eyes? Before that was outlawed by Amendment 66?” She asked. Milo felt darkness again.

              “I don’t remember much of it. It’s been a long time. My cousin died that way. I don’t remember much of him either.” Milo looked away again, but this time rather than turning towards the dinner hall he turned to look at the stars. There weren’t many visible, for it was foggy out and snowing. “Why?”

              “Your eyes will sprout a color soon.”

              “I will be six winters in just under a month,” Milo said. The darkness began to fall, deep into his mind. “It’s not likely that I will sprout blue eyes, right?”

              “Mr. Charlie want’s the amendment removed,” she said, “But he won’t tell the Parliament this, or the people.”

              “Can he do that?” Milo asked, curious.

              “He can’t but he will.” Her eyes drifted off, her mind leaving. Milo was silent. This was unbelievable. His father didn’t have blue eyes, nor his mother, but rather dark brown eyes. However, his aunt’s family all had blue eyes. Their eldest was unlucky, but the others fortunately were born after the passing of that amendment. Death was not something Milo was ready for. His head began to ache and this stomach twisted into a chilling knot.

“What about you?” Milo asked, “How old are you?”

              She looked at Milo. He could see her eyes clearly now. This was the first time he had looked into her eyes this closely; hers had a tone of every color shimmering noticeably over a blanket of black.

              “I have to leave now,” she said, turning away. “Mr. Charlie can’t win that election,” she said, turning back around, “But I can’t go back there. I need you to deliver this to Doctor Artimus for me.” She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small slip of paper that was folded.

              “Do you know Artimus well?” Milo asked, taking the slip of paper. She didn’t respond. He put the slip of paper into his coat pocket.

When he looked back up, there was no sign of the girl, other than the sounds of footsteps from somewhere nearby. Milo looked around, but she was gone. The cold was strengthened by wind. Slowly, he started his walk back to the dinner hall. But the walk quickly became a sprint when things began to click in his head. Milo’s world was now in danger.

SNOWFALL

Frost. With blood, this was the only thing in the dead grass of Pæraleth. The blood of many citizens was shed overnight in a massive revolt. Mr. Charlie had won the election, and during his speech he revealed more plans that the people of were not aware of. This caused much trouble all over the world within moments of hearing the words on the radio. Within three hours, a doctor in the South had been assassinated, reasons unknown. There was hysteria in Salem, people were worried about the doctors in the town, although there were only three. The politicians presented a few words of safety for the people in the town, they said that they would be safe and could continue their researches. But most appalling, was the promise of the removal of Amendment 66. The light snowfall covered the roof with a light layer of snow, which buried Milo’s shoes an inch deep.

              Milo hadn’t slept. He attempted it, when he arrived back at home late the night before, but there was no success. His thoughts kept him awake. An hour went by before he decided to climb onto the roof. He thought of his near future. It was Monday morning now, and he turned fifteen in just weeks. Sometime soon he would show the first signs of sprouting. If the color of his eyes were blue, he would be sentenced to death.

              He also thought of Artimus and the other doctors, including Milo’s father. What was to become of them? The politicians had promised he wouldn’t get rid of them, but how can a man like Mr. Charlie keep his word?

              He also thought of the girl he had met the night before. She almost didn’t seem real, like something from a dream.
But I didn’t just imagine it. I wish I had some sort of proof. I want to see her again.
He walked back from the ledge of the roof, and crawled through his open window back into his rain-soaked, dusty bedroom.

              He left his window open often, as he stayed on the roof often. Lots of storms occurred in Salem, so the wood in his bedroom near the window were stained with water damage. There was a wooden desk across the room from the window, where Milo temporarily set his items. On the desk, was a notebook, open to the middle, filled with scribbles. Milo read through what he had written the night before. He had written another piece of a story that he had started long ago.

-----

The next day was very uneventful for him. He moped around for most of the morning, drifting across the dusty floors on his light feet, pacing the various rooms of his house in search of interesting things to do. It was not unlike any other day, for he felt most of his life was like this. His father was away at work, so Milo was alone. He walked outside for a bit in the afternoon, taking a long path around Salem, enjoying views of his city in the whimsical snowfall. When he returned home he had a great meal to eat, and then waited for his father to return home before drifting off into an immersing sleep.

              The next morning came with a surprise to Milo. When he awoke, unusually early on this day, his bedroom window was cracked open slightly, with a chilling wind splashing through. When his eyes had fully returned to their awakened state, he quickly got up out of his bed and walked over the window. He didn’t see any other strange things near the window, nor outside the window, so he closed it shut and locked it. But something else was there.

Beneath Milo’s cold, bare feet, he felt the presence of something soft. He moved his foot and looked below, and there sat a small slip of paper. Milo knelt down and picked it up. He noticed there was text on it, but before reading it he took a look around the room and out the window. Seeing nothing peculiar, Milo read what was on the paper. In very small, fancy script, it read,
GOLBURN AND EDWARDSON.
He peered out the window once more.
The streets?

             
Thoughts came to Milo. He felt that this note could’ve been from the girl.
If it was her, how does she know where I live? Oh yeah, she read my mind.

-----

             
Snow fell from the darkened sky with a gentle force, creating a calm in Milo. He walked on Edwardson Street, towards Golburn, at the corner. The area was empty of people. He tried keeping himself company with his thoughts.

The sounds of gentle footsteps in the snow made their way to Milo’s frosted ears. It was quite foggy in the air, but Milo could see a distinct figure in the fog, that of a girl. As she came closer, Milo saw that this indeed was the girl from the dinner hall.

            
 
“So it was you?” asked Milo. She was now very close, within speaking distance. She didn’t respond right away, not even looking his way, but rather at the street. When she became closer, she spoke.

              “Yes,” she said. Milo could see her clearly now. She looked the same as before; dark hair, pale, a scar on her cheek.

              “How did you find my house?” Milo asked.
It was her who left that little note.
All he got as a response was a swift shrug. She seemed happier than before. It seemed to Milo like the last time, at the dinner hall, she was worried about something. Then he asked, “So can you tell me your name?”

              “My name is Lyrah,” she said.

-----

              “Where did you find these?” Milo asked, taking a bright red apple from Lyrah’s hand as she held it out to him. They both smiled, her smile being the most radiant that Milo had yet seen from her. They were just outside Salem, on the edge of the forest. Snow had covered the trees and ground with a thick layer of brilliant white. This was the third time this week that they had met. They had met twice the previous week.

              “There’s an apple tree,” she said, “on a small, lonely island in the sea. It stands tall and strong, although its branches are wilted like a willow. Its trunk has twists and turns and many holes and hollows for the company of animals. I’ve only been there once before. The apples from that tree are the greatest in Pæraleth.”

              “You didn’t get these from there,” Milo said. “Not unless you’re some sort of magic traveler.”

              “No,” said Lyrah.

              “So where did these apples come from?”

              “You know that old creaky shop at the end of Yellowill?” She tossed her apple up high.

              “Yeah?” Milo watched the apple; it almost didn’t look like it was going to come down.

              Lyrah caught it. “They had some extras,” she said. A dog barked somewhere in the distance. Moments later, several more barks joined. “It’s beautiful Milo, the tree. It’s where I would like to go someday,” she said. She looked to the sky. “When I have nowhere else to go and nothing else to do. When I feel free.”

              “Free from what?” Milo asked.

              She was still looking at the sky, but became expressionless. Then after a pause, she looked at him and forthrightly said, “Just everything, you know?” Milo agreed silently. “I have a gift for you,” said Lyrah, taking a step back and reaching into her bag.

              Milo was surprised.
A gift?
“A gift?” He asked.

              Lyrah pulled her hand back out of her bag, and in her hand was a beautiful snow globe. She handed it out to him, smiling, and Milo took it. He smiled back, as he looked at the magnificent piece. It had a round, wooden base, made of old wood. Atop the wooden base sat the glass globe that was home to two, wooden carved polar bears sitting on an iceberg. At first, Milo didn’t know what to say, but eventually he came to the words, “Thank you.”