Awakening

by Hayden Pearton

  *

  Barsch closed the book with a shudder. Every child on the planet knew the story of Goat’s mistake and the fall of the capital; but it was another thing entirely to read a first-hand account. He still had fond memories of late night re-enactments with his friends, where every boy had wanted to play the part of the valiant Mr Simmons, and the least popular kid was always chosen to play the treacherous Goat.

  When his father found out about these play sessions, he had angrily scolded Barsch, and warned him to never utter Goat’s name again. In those days, to do so was to call bad luck upon yourself and your family, or so the superstition went. Barsch had never quite believed it, but he had dutifully followed his father’s orders, out of a mixture of fear and respect.

  Replacing the book, Barsch searched for another, and was soon held captive by another of Kingston’s tomes. This pattern repeated itself again and again, as the hours of the day slowly faded into the hours of the night. The rain was still beating down on the thatch roof when Barsch finally awoke from his book-based stupor. Rising, he made his way to the kitchen, where he found Kingston busily preparing the duo’s supper.

  He spent the rest of the evening telling Kingston all about the things he had read, and debating the old man on some of the things he had learnt. Eventually, he began to tire, and, after bidding Kingston good night, he headed back to the study. On the way, he stopped at the door to the girl’s room, and opened it slightly. The nameless girl, the ghost with violet eyes, had not moved an inch from where she had lay before, and, not for the first time, Barsch wondered if she were truly alive.

  Closing the door, quietly so as not to alert Kingston to his actions, Barsch continued on his way. As he climbed into his bed, a strange feeling stole over him, one that he had not felt in a very long time. It was a feeling of… belonging. When he had been on the road with his father, moving from one abandoned town to the next, he had never had the feeling of being home. Now, in this strange place, with this strange hermit and even stranger girl, he was remembering how it felt to be a part of something… to have a place to call home…

  “Well, I guess things could be worse… I have a roof over my head, food in my belly and someone to talk to… but I know that things can’t stay like this forever. I need to return to the Station, and find out why I was awoken so soon. And if I can find a way to reactivate my pod, things will finally go back to how they were… how they are supposed to be…”

  Lying in bed, Barsch was left with only two sounds: the voice in his head telling him things that he did not want to hear, and the steady pitter-patter of the rain, which slowly began drowning out the former, as it lulled Barsch into a deep sleep…