by S D Wile
A sacred number had been broken.
Number 9: You may leave Orsa once granted the permission to redeem your soul.
A Rourke had entered upon the lands without this intention. Nevertheless it was clear that the journey Christian was to embark on would be seen as the ultimate betrayal! Christian knew it was inevitable that in due course he would disobey more of the numbers.
Number 2: Never pursue any curiosities about a human as all there is to know is in the lessons of the elders.
Number 3: Each elder teaches the lesson passed down from Morbidma.
Not moving a muscle, Christian stood still in the first step he placed upon the sand. He was astonished by how simple it had been. He was shocked that no one had sensed the breaking of the numbers. After all, the elders spent most of their time reminding the soldiers of the consequences of committing forbidden crimes and how swiftly they would abolish them. Yet here he was, having done just that and he was still standing. No one had risen from below and slain him.
Christian knew he had to be strategic to achieve his goal. Find the girl and learn everything he could. Surely that should be enough for him to figure out the right course of action.
Children of Orsa were masters of water and on land Christian was dry, as water would never touch him unless he allowed it to. His dark grey trousers were woven from the many treasures of Orsa which the waters left untouched. On the far corner of the beach, below a cliff, Christian saw an old wooden shack. He decided to make his way towards it.
Christian knew that humans wore footwear, something his kind never did so the first thing he needed was to find a pair of boots. Confidently, he knocked on the half-rotted wooden door which barely held its place. Abruptly the door opened, revealing an elderly man in his sixties wearing a knitted grey sweater, combats and khaki green wellington boots. His chin barely reached up to Christian’s shoulder yet his stocky build was not something to be taken lightly.
“What are you doing out at this time of night lad?” the old man croaked as he itched his frosty stubble. As soon as Christian opened his mouth to respond, the old man turned his back to him and walked off, leaving the door to swing further open as if it were inviting him in. Christian contemplated going in when the man suddenly returned.
“Here, put these boots on, they should fit yer.” Christian accepted the immaculate looking hiking boots. He could see this was the old man’s way of being polite. They were a perfect fit, but how did the old man know he came to ask for boots? He looked up to say thank you when SLAM! The rotted door was now staring back at him. That was probably his way of saying ‘be on your way now’ he thought. Not what he expected from his first proper human encounter. Maybe the wind slammed the door shut. At that thought he raised his hand to knock again but something inside told him to stop.
Suddenly his attention was drawn to an unnatural alignment of rocks and stones outside the shack. Christian remembered that this alignment was not there a couple of minutes ago. Curiously he stepped back to get a wider view, only to find a spiral of pebbles appear in the sand. Each spiral led to one of the stones aligned in height order, leading up to a rock. It was almost impossible for a Rourke not to sense movement within its surroundings yet all this movement had occurred under his radar. One thing Christian was sure of was that this was not the doings of a human.
Now that he had the boots, he needed to get hold of a top and trousers which responded to water. Walking along the beach he came across a small clock tower, striking one o’clock. It stood on what looked like an abandoned street filled with derelict factories. Sheltered under a starry blanket, the reflections in the smashed factory windows looked like crystals.
Chapter 8
Something struck me as sharp as thunder, frightening me out of my nightmare! Quickly, I sat up wondering where I was. Was I still in my room? The sudden rush of panic had blurred my vision. Everything just looked dark with shades of blue moonlight shining through the gaps between my curtains. Desperately, I looked around trying to focus when I realised I could feel the warmth of my duvet. This familiarity enabled me to calm down. Even though I could hear my heart pulsating through my chest I was able to make sense of my surroundings. Thankfully, I was still in my room and it was night-time.
Thunder clattered through my ears as lightning flashed upon my white dressing table, highlighting the violet diamonds in my favourite earrings. Relieved by the realisation that I was safe in my room and that everything I had just seen was just a nightmare, I tried to go back to sleep. However, I just couldn’t shake off the horrific fear that ran through me. If nightmares were not real then why didn’t every bit of its effects disappear? If my heart didn’t slow down it would surely find its way out very soon, I thought.
Through my window the rain smashed its fierce bullets. This was the weather in my nightmare. Disturbing flashes of images started to re-enter my mind. I usually remembered most of my nightmares as soon as I woke up but for some reason I could only remember parts of this one. If I was going to face college tomorrow I needed to be well rested and not get worked up over this. Luckily, it was only one a.m. so I still had a couple of hours to catch up on my sleep. As I lay back and closed my eyes I saw a clock face, which struck midnight. It appeared to be wet, a bit worn out and the numbers were larger than I expected.
Suddenly I opened my eyes, sprung out of my bed and raced to my bedroom window only to find that it was the clock tower in front of the beach, not far from the derelict factories opposite my house. It read five minutes past one. Confused, I tried to make sense of it all by tracing all the moments I could remember: I fell asleep just before midnight and for some reason I’m sure that was when the dream started. The clock read one a.m. and that’s when I woke up. How could real time correspond with the time in my dream? Does that mean I had been dreaming for a whole hour? Even if I had it doesn’t matter I thought, it’s only a dream. I couldn’t recall all of the events chronologically but deep down I felt as if I needed to be more cautious.
Whilst gazing out of my window, a sudden movement caught my eye. Within seconds it disappeared making me almost doubt what I had seen through one of the smashed windows of the old shoe factory. Probably a cat. It’s not like anyone would want to enter that place anyway. Especially after the murder that took place there, five years ago.
As soon as I closed my eyes again I saw dark hiking boots racing towards me. That’s when I remembered that I had been running. There were empty crates surrounding a cold and damp room. It looked like an open plan floor with an exit sign at the back. The sign lit up amongst the darkness of the night and I ran towards it but tripped over a box. Swiftly, I managed to crawl behind the crates that were stacked up only to find a large parcel behind it with the word ‘Fragile’ stamped on it.
Next I was on the beach, the sand was wet against my skin and the breeze swept the rain aggressively into my face as I lay there in fear, watching him walk on the surface of the sea, towards me, barefoot. Something about him seemed different and unusual. Filled with horror I jumped up to get away. When I woke up, I was still in my room. Again I had fallen into my nightmare again.
How was this possible? Who was that barefooted man? That’s when I realised I was getting too carried away. My imagination was starting to run wild; no one could walk on water, I told myself. However, there was also someone else in this dream, wearing hiking boots. I could only see them from the floor when I was crouched behind the stack of crates. Were there two people? Two men? Considering the difficult time I had been going through lately, it was inevitable that this would happen, I thought. Covered in goose bumps I made my way to the kitchen. Hopefully some chamomile tea with honey would help me get back to sleep and reality.
Chapter 9
Christian didn’t understand why such constructions would be built, only to be left and forgotten about. In Orsa everything that was built was needed and it remained that way. Ironically, a sign with the words ‘waterproof traveller’ hung lopsided off the top of one
of the old factories, which looked like three floors of emptiness. Christian took this as a welcome sign and entered.
He barely touched the front door when it fell back as if it had been holding onto its hinges just for him. Anxiously, he walked onto the cool, hard concrete floor, lit up by the rays of moonlight that was seeping through the cracks of the aged building. On the right side of the room sat an old crooked fireplace expecting to be lit up by the remaining pieces of wood scattered on the neglected floor. Amongst them were wellington boots and other waterproof footwear. Ironically, a shoe factory had invited him in, even though this was the one item Children of Orsa never had the need for.
Christian pushed a few crates in front of the doorway then picked up the front door and propped it on top of the crates, covering the entrance. This room was quite small but to his left was a metal, spiral staircase which led Christian onto a larger open-plan floor. The twin of the wooden fireplace below was on his right and it seemed to be in better condition. Holes in the wooden floorboards were filled with puddles. There were two large windows to the right which looked out to sea and two windows on the left which looked onto a street with a house and some flats. One window was boarded up.
Opposite the fireplace was a shorter wooden staircase with an oval mirror on the wall. Seeing his reflection reminded him of how far he was from Orsa. The surroundings looked alien and the more he stared into that mirror the more he felt unsure about himself. The top floor looked like a small office, with an old desk to its right and a large window overlooking the sea. To the back of the room was a black metal bin overflowing with old shredded bits of paper. Christian found this room to be more habitable than the others. Whilst walking towards the back window he accidently kicked a parcel. The words stamped on the box made him wonder why anything marked ‘Fragile’ would be left in such a lonely place.
Chapter 10
Anxiously I approached the bottle-green college gates with a proud welcome sign above it. As I glanced towards it I caught the eye of a petite Asian girl with long black silky hair, wearing a red trench coat, a blue wool scarf and black jeans.
“Izzie,” she beamed as she ran towards me in her heels, attracting attention to the both of us. Excitedly, she plunged straight into me not realising she had stopped a bit too late. This was a typical Sonia hug. She was quite short so heels were a must for her. No matter how long she’d been walking in heels, she was still a bit rusty when it came to stopping in time. This was one of the things that made Sonia so funny and likeable.
“How are you? It’s so good to see you.”
“Much better thanks. How’s everything been?” I asked, hoping she’d tell me if word had spread about me being rescued at sea and ending up in hospital.
“It’s been OK.” Then she looked up and sighed.
“Listen hun, are you sure you’re ready to come back?”
“Why? What’s been said about me? You can tell me exactly what’s going on. Nothing will really surprise me. I sort of have an idea already.”
“Well, people have been gossiping about you, saying you tried to commit suicide and horribly failed.” Rapidly the words rolled off Sonia’s tongue like water. I was the latest gossip and it all started with Jenny Summers. My first college day absence started with Jenny telling my tutor, in front of the whole class, that her dad had rescued me from drowning in the sea.
“Jenny isn’t a saint. She knew she was planting a seed by saying this and, just for the record Sonia, I did not try to end my life! You know that’s not me. You can believe what you want, but that is the truth,” I explained frustrated.
“I believe you. I know you wouldn’t do anything like that. I just wanted to warn you before you entered,” she answered softly before putting her arm in mine like she always did.
“Well, I’m on your side as always but being late to Chidlow’s class will not help, so let’s go,” she marched on dragging me with her. It was nice to see that some things hadn’t changed.
Luckily everyone was rushing through the bright corridors. The college had undergone a refurbishment five years ago (before I started) but it always looked immaculate. The white shiny floors always gleamed from the sun shining through the many windows that made up one side of the corridor. Personally I preferred looking up at it from the outside as I wasn’t keen on heights and, with most of my classes on the fourth floor (top floor), I found myself trying to avoid looking through the windows.
As I entered I could see Chidlow, a heavy-set, well-groomed woman who always dressed like an executive’s personal assistant. She noticed me, which was a first, and walked towards me slowly showing an unusual Chidlow expression: a smile.
“How are you Isabelle?” she asked.
“I’m fine thanks, oh.... erm my assignment, I handed that in before erm… have the marks been given out?” I grovelled. She responded with her usual expression: furrowed brows, an intimidating pause followed by a brief reply.
“Yes, you can collect your assignment from the office.” Abruptly she turned, reminding everyone that their assignments must be collected from the office as they needed to be signed out. Apparently, a student had accused a lecturer of having lost their assignment when it had already been given back.
Sonia had saved me a seat at the back of the room. However getting there was a bit awkward as I had to walk through many fake smiles, kind hellos from people I didn’t know followed by the stares. Like a heavy weight I fell into my seat, almost nudging Sonia who had managed to fold her coat, jumper and scarf into soft balls and used them to attempt to turn her chair into a soft armchair. Even though she was small she appeared taller in her chair than me. This enabled me to sink lower and block myself from the view of all those that were sitting on the right side of the classroom. Not that it stopped Jenny from leaning forward every ten minutes to catch a glimpse of me.
Half way through the session I got fed up with her and stared back. If she had something to say she should say it straight to my face, I thought. Even though I could only express anger towards her I had managed to calm down by the end of the session. I had never been the kind of person to hold a grudge but if someone kept on frustrating me it wouldn’t be long before I gave them a piece of my mind. Every time I confronted Jenny in the past, she would soften her tone of voice to explain how she had been misinterpreted and as always was a ‘victim of hateful gossip’. This time she clearly had gone too far, telling everyone that I had attempted suicide. It was even more hurtful knowing my own dad had done the same. When I felt at my lowest I always asked myself, “What’s the worst that could happen?” In this case I was a little relieved to know that the worst had already happened so hopefully things would get better.
“Hi Isabelle, how are you?” I had raced out of the class like a cat and was about to leave through the back staircase, which no one really took as it led to the fire exit. Now I found myself facing a slender blonde, covered in all the make-up her mother could buy. She barely gave me a chance to respond before she clasped her hands and took a step forward with her wide hazy-green eyes observing me cunningly, like a wild tigress.
“Well you must be feeling a bit weird being back and so soon…”
“I didn’t realise you took such notice of me Jenny,” I smiled.
“Well after my dad returned from work and told me about what happened at the beach, I just became really worried about you.”
“And what was it that happened at the beach?” I asked her firmly, trying not to slap the cattiness out of her.
“Well,” she paused before speaking in a softer tone. “Honey, we know you tried to end your life and I can’t imagine for one moment how low you must have felt to have actually taken such a shocking step.”
That was the last straw! My skin was vibrating with anger and I found myself shouting at her.
“I did not try to end my life! Maybe your dad should get his facts right before he goes around spreading false information, and isn’t this something he should be keeping to himself any
way, as a professional?”
“Excuse me, who do you think you are talking to?”
“Oh give it a rest, just shut your stupid…,”
“Izzie,” shouted a deep voice. I ignored it and swung my arm to slap Jenny when someone grabbed it.
“What are you doing?” I screamed at him but he was too tall and strong for me to push off as he dragged me off the staircase. Angrily, I started to shove back so that he would let go but with great force he pushed me into the closed photography studio. I fell back into the hall with the contents of my bag everywhere.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing? I was going to knock that stupid cow out and you butted straight in!” After realising the great opportunity I had just missed I was struggling to control the urge to scratch this guy’s eyes out.
“Everyone would have found out. What were you thinking hey? That you’d beat that girl up and get away with it? The argument echoed through the third floor and from what I’ve heard the last thing you need is exclusion,” he yelled, clearly annoyed.
For some reason I couldn’t look at him. I didn’t care what he looked like. I just felt that by looking directly at him he would see that I was on the verge of breaking down. I sat there with my head in my arms, panting trying to figure out how all of this had happened. Jenny wanted me to hit her, to prove herself right and I, being the hot-headed wreck, almost fell straight for it. Suddenly, it dawned on me. I had lost control and was about to ruin everything. What was I thinking? I felt like a fool. Sitting there on the cold, wooden floor my heart sank. There was a lump in my throat, pins and needles all over my body and my eyes were starting to well up.