announcing our Red Light/Green Light round three contestants. You’ve all
submitted great work, and no matter the outcome of the competition, I’d like to
encourage you all to keep putting your words out there. It’s been such fun for
myself and our judging agent, Kelly, to get a chance to peek at your opening
pages!
our top ten entries.
filled the autumn air, concealing the stench of the undead’s decaying flesh. I
sprinted through the orchards, occasionally stepping on a red apple rotting on
the ground. Squish. I almost wanted to pick one of the apples off a tree.
Apples were one of the few fruits I still got, but I had always adored them. I
hardly got to eat them fresh like this. New Seattle wasn’t far from orchards
like this one, but it wasn’t like I could go visit them and just get apples. I
wouldn’t go on the road with the zombies and road gangs.
I’d only evacuated New Seattle because of the road gang attacks, and I wasn’t
even sure this place was safe, even if it had nice apples.
I didn’t have time to pick fruit now. I had to go see my sister Trinity.
Because Trinity, her fiancé, and their daughters had been evacuated also, I had
seen her more in the last two weeks than I had in years. We would spend hours
talking about everything. Our mother, her kids, the dangers on the road,
everything. It was just like when we were kids.
Maybe better, because then Trinity had been convinced she was too mature to
spend time with any of her siblings, even Aidan, who was only a couple years
younger than her.
Still, back then she used to protect me from our father. From everything
really.
Usually Trinity’s fiancé, Jeremy, didn’t want her interacting with me or our
siblings.
label. Possible side-effects of association include: bad grades, missed
curfews, and lying to parental units. Or better, hazard signs. Caution:
majoring in narcissism with a minor in manipulation. Personal bubble
infiltrator. Heart-breaker for sport.
Except such a courtesy would be asinine and undermine a desirable first
impression.
Befriend the lie.
If I ever got around to putting on one I’d admit to, aside from being a
horrible liar, I deserved being branded… wait for it… a procrastinator. Guilty
of skipping requisite freshman science, I’d been sentenced to the high school
equivalent of a CIA black site, with busywork. An electric chair might be
cozier. Ninety hours of senior year wasted. Test-out options nonexistent, to
graduate I had no choice but to suffer through this class.
The room stunk of formaldehyde and juveniles. No amount of slumping in my chair
spared me the humiliation. And not the anonymous, solitary variety either.
Nope, I had to endure the torture with him. In the last row sat Jasper Calvary.
His warning label: Don’t.
He’d entered the room with the air and confidence of a leader, someone who
believed himself to be in charge and was not to be messed with. A strong
angular jaw and well-defined cheekbones replaced the boyish face that haunted
my childhood. The dark brown-almost-black hair and striking eyes remained
unchanged. A shot of concentrated Caribbean blue I wished I could bottle and
keep with me.
stone corridor to meet my half-brother for the first time, his name echoed
around me, whispered like a curse: Mordred.
my outlook, but that did not matter; his haunted name brought me no fear.
Finally. Finally. I had a brother. Family. Surely he would not shun me
as the others had. Surely he would understand what it meant to be an outcast in
one’s own family. All other thoughts were whispers on the breeze compared to
this resounding truth—I had to meet him, had to know him.
the Great Hall. Straightening, I walked toward the raised dais, careful to keep
my pace steady, though my legs urged me forward. A prince must always be calm
and collected. My muscles strained, but I reined in my eagerness. The dais
seemed so far away.
as I passed. Most paid me no heed, too absorbed in poisonous gossip.
one said, wringing his hands.
armored knight said with a sneer.
time this day. The hall had witnessed many such words since the news of
Mordred’s arrival. All over an unfounded—and unreliable—prophecy made decades
ago. My steps clipped the stones, leaving the boorish speakers behind. How did
they dare to speak thus?
front garden, picking at a loose thread that was threatening to unravel the
lace cuff on her left sleeve. As hard as she tried, she was never perfectly put
together. Her governess always knew exactly where to find something amiss with
her appearance. Madame Elyse had pointed out the grass stain on her pinafore
when Catia was seven years old, the first time they’d met. Even now, ten years
later, if her curls weren’t perfectly tucked away or her dress hadn’t been
ironed, she was going to hear about it.
lane before the stern-faced governess turned into the garden, followed by
Catia’s best friend, Adele Lockwood. With a flick of her wrist, Catia snapped the
dangling thread from the lace and clapped her hand over it. “Good morning,
ma’am,” she said, standing to greet Madame Elyse.
“Is something wrong with your dress, Catia?”
said, tucking her hand behind her and hoping with everything that the cuff
wasn’t going to start flapping as they walked to the schoolhouse.
Madame Elyse just shook her head. “Let’s hurry to knitting class. There was
some commotion in the Square when I came to retrieve you two. I hope it won’t
disrupt our walk.”
feet and fell behind the governess to walk next to Adele. She shut the white
garden gate as they left.
through the ruined Kisken city, over twisted metal and jutting pipes. The
once-bustling tourist destination is hard to navigate without moonlight but
there isn’t time to be careful. Not tonight. The handle of a sledgehammer digs
into my shoulder as I find the edge of town and follow a line of olive trees
toward the cracked highway.
fills my lungs. War is captivating, magnetic disorder. And it’s mine. Only the
God of War can decide when and how it ends, and right now I’m perfectly happy
to let it rage on despite what my brother wants. He may be older, and the King
of the Gods, but this is my decision.
my sister’s voice – especially this sister – but I don’t break my stride. “What
are you doing here, Astra?”
fatigues, her honey hair braided and tucked under a black beret. A round, blue
pin with a red triangle at its center is stuck through the stiff wool.
“Working.”
the uniform. It suits her, despite her small frame, but is nothing the Goddess
of Love would ever think of wearing. Not with pride, anyway. “When did you
enlist in the Asgyan army?”
and crinkles her nose. “Most of the men and women deployed on this forsaken
island have families waiting at home.”
then go fishing.
The giant jatoba tree, where the noose is set, shades the corpse but doesn’t
protect it from the heat. Winter is more merciful than our hellish summer, but
only slightly. Noon is fast approaching, and the stench of emptied bowels
permeates the village like early morning fog. I press an arm over my nose and
quicken my pace to the bakery ahead. At least there is some advantage to being
forced to wear long sleeves in warm weather.
Vultures circle the cloudless sky above the tree, but not even they dare to
defy Uncle Hector. Why does Aryeea insist I fetch flour? I glance over my
shoulder at the fortress’s four-story tower spiked on the Igjommi Hill. The
fluttering white cloth, billowing like a sail in the valley breeze, can only be
her skirt. My grandmother on the balcony, watching me as if I’d go anywhere
other than where she sends me.
I enter the bakery and shut the door behind me. The warm scent of dough
overwhelms the heat. Steps approach from an inside room, and the baker’s rosy
face beams at me as he ambles through the doorway.
“Lady Sophia.” He wipes his hands on his tunic. “What do you like today?”
I’d like someone to cut down that man and bury him before he rots. But if I
voice the request, the baker will feel obliged to carry out the order. No need
to tempt another hanging.
right on schedule, roaring down the green valley of Ceirk the day after the
harvest, just as they had done the year before and the years before that. Maybe
that was why Jane’s brother and sister didn’t seem scared. There was no reason
to be scared. This was normal. Nothing was going to happen. But if something
did happen…
mother, said. “Let them hear your voice. Tell them a story. Tell them about the
stars.”
bracelet on her mother’s wrist, the one that had been passed from mother to
daughter for generations, the one with the symbols of the stars. No one on the
planet Enisfre had seen the real stars for 500 Echelon Accorded Years. Most
people didn’t even believe the stars were real. Jane Mayul wasn’t one of those
people.
that story for the hundredth time?” Jane asked.
“Finn on the other hand… Just keep them distracted. Stay outside the village.
Keep to the fields.”
happen?” Jane tried not to sound too worried. She was 17 accordeds old, and
she’d decided that she was too old to be scared. Or at least, too old for
others to know she was scared.
fine. It always is. You just can’t be too careful.”
champion in the battleground known as the social arena. Dignity was her armor,
wit her blade. She could win allies with a glance, thwart rivals with a word.
And she never ever embarrassed herself in public.
point within the storeroom’s thick brick walls. “Gods, Cynisca! How could
you not remember Lord Polycles’ wife?”
retrospect, I probably should’ve known better than to assume the pretty young
woman accompanying the graying Assembly Leader to the town square was
his daughter. Hoping to cast my mistake in a positive light, I said,
“Maybe his wife was flattered–”
rattling the clay lamps within. “Maybe you should have thought harder
before opening your mouth. Considering how often you race against Polycles’
son, you should know the man doesn’t have any daughters.”
harnessing the horses,” I mumbled beneath my breath.
composure with an effort. Her anger was far from spent, but with
from Delphi in two days, she had more important things to do. “Anyway, try
not to insult anyone else. And fix your hair.” She snatched the hairpin
from my drooping knot and tossed it at me. “You’re the king’s half-sister.
Look like it.”
golden beauty and our father’s height, she was the darling of the upper
echelon.
entire village is a burden meant only for a person of great strength and power.
As my little sister perform the Gathering ritual, I know it is right that Mama
chose her to be the next Water Bearer instead of me. My energia has not
developed as Nyree’s has. Her young shoulders carry much weight, yet as she
dances among the damp tendrils of mist she appears to be as light as air
itself.
She raises her arms above her head,
grasping at the mist as it curls between her fingers, smiling at whatever
memory she just captured. I wish the memories I catch could bring me such
rapturous joy as hers.
spinning and swaying her body as the mist collects on her shoulders, midriff,
and long gangly legs. Her face contorts from joy into something less pleasant.
Because she is Ja, she has felt far more grief and suffering than
someone of twelve years should. I ache for her.
exposing as much of my skin as modesty allows, then lift my arms above my head
praying to snatch something real from the mist.
in the trees, gingerly carrying an egg in its mouth appears in my mind. My fist
closes over the mist as I clutch at the memory trying squeeze as much out of it
as I can before it fades.
pointless memory.
because the real nightmares were people. Folks like Will’s father or my old
neighbor or the person who cut Paige’s face. But this nightmare looked real,
like they all do.
down to the unusually deep curve between her jutting ribcage and her hips. When
she moved up my bed, her bones cracked, and when I moved back against my
headboard, she crawled halfway up my torso. Nose-to-nose, she smelled like
rain, and water dripped off her hair onto my sternum. This woman had horns.
Three horns as black as night and as difficult to decipher from the shadows as
her inky, stringy hair.
myself, what my mother told me, what my doctor promised me, what my father used
to say.
and I couldn’t help it. I screamed.
cue, as if she’d been anticipating another one of my midnight episodes, and as
much as I wanted to tell her that I was fine now—that I understood my
diagnosis—I secretly loved what happened every time she came. The hypnopompic
hallucination disappeared, a side effect of my narcolepsy. A reoccurring,
paralyzing side effect. They happened between sleep and wakefulness, and lasted
anywhere from a few seconds to a minute.
nightmares, because people tended to shy away from anyone who had
hallucinations, but they were nothing like nightmares.
