Young Writers Society

CHAPTER ONE - White Corridors, Flying Rooms and a Hospital Ward

The front doors of the centre drifted apart automatically as a man strode through them, observing the entrance to the building. It was a busy place: a magnificent, plain white hall with a high ceiling met the man’s eyes, and it was filled with the buzz of hundreds of people shifting around and talking. There were no visible sources of light, for windows, torches and lamps were absent: light seemed to be issuing from the whiteness of the place itself.
The man came to a halt a few yards inside and noticed that the air, like the walls, was clean and pure; no new smell met him, though it was perhaps a little warmer. He also noted that every person crowded in the vicinity was wearing the same uniform as him: white trousers, a white shirt under a white jacket, white shoes with white laces and a white bowler hat; in fact, it was only the people’s faces that were easy to see because all the attire was camouflaged against the walls and floor of the large hall.
He stood there a little longer to get an idea of what all these people were doing, so that he knew what he was supposed to be doing. Halfway across the hall was a line of what appeared to be ticket barriers, about ten of them, each being operated by (the man blinked and looked closer) a man wearing the same uniform as everyone else, but in a rich scarlet colour. A huge sign hung over the ticket barrier, which read in large black letters: New Dreamwatchers Check-in Here, with a thick arrow pointing down towards the barriers. As the man watched, people approached the guarded barrier and were given a ticket by one of the men in red; they would then be admitted through the barrier and (the man had to stand on his tiptoes to see) taken away by a second man in red uniform, but he couldn’t see where to. He knew the red people had a certain name, or title, but it had presently escaped him.
The man decided to advance to the ticket barrier instead of standing around, because a few of the people were giving Proxy-Connection: keep-alive
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oks, as though he was someone who had stumbled in unintentionally. He was soon caught up in the bustle of everyone else and the chatter became louder as the men in red handed tickets to the white people. He dimly observed that everyone was travelling in the same direction within the hall; no-one appeared to be leaving through the doors that he’d entered.
He now had a better view of what was happening ahead of him; there were rows of white doors along the two walls past the barrier and the people with their tickets were escorted through a certain door by a member of the men in red. The door on the opposite wall had the words ‘Guards Only’ scored in large letters.
Guards. That was it. They were the Guards.
‘Next, please!’
The man realised that he was next. Taking his eyes off the doors, he looked at the man in red uniform before him. He took note of his slightly chubby, but friendly face and small toothbrush moustache. Apart from the fact that it was deep red, the only difference in their uniforms was that the guard had a name badge, but the man couldn’t read it properly. He was clutching a clipboard, which was supporting a thick wad of paper.
‘Name, sir?’ the Guard asked, peering at the man.
‘Zebulon12,’ the man replied, and waited as the Guard began to run his finger swiftly down the clipboard.
‘Zebulon, Zebulon… Zebulon12… aha – yes, you are linked with Jack Hayden, born no more than six minutes ago.’ A little machine on the counter coughed up a small yellow ticket and the Guard whipped it off and read it quickly.
‘Right, you take that,’ he said to Zebulon12 once he’d checked the ticket, ‘and if you’d like to follow Red332 – the young lad on the left, see him? – he’ll take you to Jack’s dream island.’
‘Thank you.’ Zebulon12 accepted the yellow ticket and walked through the barrier gate. On this side of the barrier, the crowding was much less so, as everyone was being led through the various doors on the sides. He looked down at the slip of paper and read:

Jack Hayden
Born: 02.06.1995
Predicted First Dream: 08.03.2000
Assigned Dreamwatcher: Zebulon12

Zebulon12 tucked away the ticket in the breast pocket of his jacket and strode towards the second man in red by one of the doors that the first Guard had indicated to him.
Red332 looked much younger than the Guard at the barrier, perhaps in his six or seven hundreds. He had deep-set black eyes, and his longish fringe was the only part of his bronze hair left untamed by the red bowler hat.
‘Good evening, sir, your name is?’ he asked kindly once Zebulon12 had approached him.
‘Evening ... Zebulon12,’ he said again clearly.
‘Good to see you, Zebulon12 – if you’d like to follow me,’ Red332 said, and opened the door he was standing next to, which was labelled Entrance 3. In spite of himself, Zebulon12 couldn’t help feel a sense of excitement: he was about to enter the mind of a Human; or maybe he already had, it was hard to tell.
‘So how much do you know about this, Zebulon12?’ asked Red332, as they began to walk down a pure white corridor, which also had numerous doors leading off the sides. Engraved at the very end of the corridor on the back wall were the words Doors 33-48 and Zebulon12 quickly counted eight white doors on each side. The ceiling was a great deal lower as well, rising only a foot or so above the men’s heads. The constant talking of the other Dreamwatchers and their Guards, which had been so noticeable only moments ago, was much less pronounced now, though there were still many white- and red-uniformed people appearing through random doors as the two men walked. Red332 was nodding to other Guards so regularly he looked as though he was listening to a piece of music with a particularly heavy bass line, in addition to keeping up a steady stream of ‘Hello’s and ‘Evening’s.
‘Erm, only that we look over our Human’s dreams, which are stored on the dream island,’ Zebulon12 replied with a degree of uncertainty, as Red332 led them through Door 47 on the left at the back. This led to another corridor, also with sixteen doors. ‘But I really don’t understand most of it.’
Even as he said this, Zebulon12 wondered whether he was really prepared for this. After all, he was still rather young and inexperienced – he could only trust he’d feel more confident when he got there.
‘Well, that’s a good place to start,’ said Red332 reassuringly, though Zebulon12 wasn’t hugely reassured, ‘but you’re right, it does get much more complicated as the Human lives on, you know, filling the island with its dreams – remember, we Dreamwatchers are neither here nor there as far as the Human is concerned. The subconscious of a Human is extremely delicate and complicated ...’
Red332 continued to fill Zebulon12 in with all the concepts, as well as the finer details, of everything the experience included; the latter listened very attentively because he needed as much information as he could get. Apart of the men’s discussion, it was completely silent as they made their way deeper and deeper through the white labyrinth, for the comings and goings of other people had become much less frequent. To Zebulon12, they seemed to be walking round aimlessly in a huge circle, even though the numbers on the doors were undoubtedly different, as well as getting bigger. He was on the verge of asking Red332 how much longer it would take to find the right place, but –
‘Aha,’ said Red332 triumphantly, coming to an abrupt halt at a door that looked exactly the same as the millions of doors they’d already passed. However, when Zebulon12 looked closer, he saw that there were more engravings than usual on this door:


Zebulon12 felt his jaw and heart drop slightly as he read the last part of the etching: how long would it take to find the right island when there were one billion to go through?
Red332 seemed to read his expression, and laughed heartily.
‘Quite a few islands aren’t there, sir?’ he said with another chuckle. So saying, he opened the door and gestured to Zebulon12 to step through.
Zebulon12’s initial impression was that he was looking at yet another corridor, but soon realised he was wrong. It was much smaller – Zebulon12 guessed it was probably long enough to lie down in; there were no doors except for the one they had just opened, though the walls still remained colourless and unblemished. On the ceiling was a small microphone and one of the walls was dotted with countless buttons and dials.
The two men huddled in the compact room. Red332 snapped the door shut, which locked itself automatically, raised his head and spoke clearly into the microphone:
‘Jack Hayden.’
There was the slightest of hesitations in which Zebulon12 barely had time to form the thought as to what was going to happen. Next moment, the room itself lurched to one side violently and sped off, evidently detached from the corridor. Zebulon12 and Red 332 were immediately slammed against the wall with the door, which, to Zebulon12’s great relief, remained firmly shut.
‘Blimey,’ Zebulon12 breathed, refraining himself from saying anything worse.
Red332 laughed again.
‘You can never prepare yourself for that bit, and I’ve been doing this for a long time,’ he said. ‘You might think it logical to use these lifts all the time instead of walking through a maze of corridors, but the risk of smashing into each other would be far too high. Dead useful for getting to the dream island, though – takes a very direct route.’
Zebulon12, who was a man of few words in any case, was momentarily stunned into silence by the sheer speed at which they were travelling. Surprisingly, the flying room made no noise of rushing winds as Zebulon12 would expect it too. He wondered how many islands were zooming across underneath them, and again was itching to know what Jack’s would look like. He also remembered that, because it was night-time, he may even see other islands gradually fill up with new dreams of their sleeping Humans.
‘How much longer?’ Zebulon12 asked eagerly.
‘Still a while yet I’m afraid,’ responded Red332 patiently, while adjusting a couple of the dials. ‘Dream islands are being born all the time, but when the Human dies, their dream island goes as well, so the space can be replaced. But because the Human population is slowly increasing, most islands have to be added around the outside of the world, which is where we’re heading. Like I said, without these detachable rooms, it would be a nightmare – would take far too long, and it’s the easiest way.’
It took another uneventful hour or so, in which Red332 informed Zebulon12 of more details about the job, until Red332 announced that they had reached Jack’s island. The room slowed down until it hit a soft surface and Zebulon12 heard a slight grinding noise. Eager though he was to see what was waiting outside the room, he waited as patiently as his body would allow him as Red332 hit different buttons and twisted dials here and there. When he was satisfied, he took a stride to the door, his hand holding the handle.
‘Ready?’ he asked.
‘As I’ll ever be.’
Red332 opened the door and Zebulon12 stepped out, his heart thumping in his chest.
For the second time that evening, Zebulon12’s jaw dropped as he stared ahead him. No matter how excited he had been, nothing could have prepared him for this. He absent-mindedly stepped out of the cubic room and his view of the island expanded in all directions.
The room had landed on a broad strip of yellow sand, which explained the grinding noise when they had impacted; the sand ran in a very wide circle – so wide that it was impossible to see the other end of the diameter. On the outside of the ring of sand was a vast expanse of ocean – in contrast to the vivid sunshine-coloured sand, the water was a dull iron-grey mixed with the usual blue, and the energy of the waves was just as dull, as though bored of lapping against the sand. A long jetty stretched about thirty feet out to sea and, if he squinted slightly, he thought he could just make out another dream island out at the horizon.
Zebulon12 took his eyes off the somewhat inadequate ocean and turned to see just what was on the island itself.
The island was perfectly circular but it was near to impossible to distinguish what was inside the circle. It seemed solid enough to stand on and yet it didn’t seem substantial enough to really look at, let alone exist – it was as though it was a solid, liquid and gas all at once. The floor appeared to be completely flat across the whole island and a misty grey colour. But the strangest part of the island was in the atmosphere, which contained a mass of mysterious, formless swirls, cutting through each other like dark snakes.
‘Ah, yes,’ Red332 said, following Zebulon12’s upward gaze. ‘In the air are thoughts, dreams and memories that are undefined. Humans will start having clear dreams when they are about a hundred and fifty years old – five years old in Human terms – and that’s when the island begins to fill up properly. The average life of a Human, in Human years, is about seventy-five to eighty, but, of course, that is an average, so remember that Jack could be here any time before that.
‘Shall I leave you to it, then?’ he asked.
‘Yes, thanks,’ Zebulon12 responded, still staring around, only half-listening when Red332 had been talking. ‘Thanks for all your help and advice,’ he added, in an attempt to look focused as well as merely being polite.
‘The pleasure’s all mine, sir,’ Red332 said with a small bow and smile. ‘Oh, I almost forgot ...’ He starting rummaging through the inside of his red jacket and withdrew something thin and shiny.
‘You’re going to need this,’ he said, displaying the stick to Zebulon12 and handing it to him. ‘We use it for communication; just rub it until it starts vibrating, then it forms into a screen. Just tell it the name of the Dreamwatcher or Guard and they’ll appear on the screen to talk to.’
‘Great, thank you.’ Zebulon12 stowed the glass rod beneath his own jacket pocket.
‘Best of luck, then, Zebulon12!’
And with that, the Guard turned on his heel and stepped into the white box again, which Zebulon12 had forgotten was still there. A few seconds passed, and then the room left the sand and whizzed in a giant arc over the island and into the distance until it was nothing more than a tiny white speck in the grey sky.



Dazzling sunshine flooded through the hospital ward’s long windows, illuminating two rows of four plump, white beds. Pot plants, displaying an array of colours, stood on each bedside table, as did an empty tray, whose contents had been consumed by the patients in the beds during lunchtime not long ago. The sounds of the nurses and midwives scuttling around, clearing up the trays, empty coffee cups and used cutlery mingled with the cries and wails of some of the newborn babies in the ward. Each bed was occupied by a mother-to-be or new mother cradling her recently-born son or daughter, with their husband and other relatives and friends crouched down at the side of the bed, doting on their small child and comforting their wife.
Presently, the ward doors swung inwards and a couple and their own child tottered in, smiling at the husband and wife at the bed nearest the window at the back of the ward. The Quinn family had not been in this hospital since their young daughter, who had just started walking and was presently gripping her mother’s hand as she kept up with her excited, had been born about eight months ago. The trio made their way up to the couple at the window, beaming more widely.
‘Congratulations!’ the woman squealed as quietly as possible when the three of them reached the bed, though it was clear she was struggling to hold back her excitement. She was a very elegant woman, with long black hair and good posture; she was clothed in a peacock-blue summer dress and matching flip-flops, with sunglasses perched on her head. The strap of a black leather bag was draped over her shoulder. Her little daughter, despite being less than a year old, also had a shock of black hair and big, green eyes that glinted like emeralds. The young girl stared curiously at the diminutive figure in its mother’s arms on the bed.
‘Good to see you, Juliet ... hello, Leonard,’ the mother replied weakly, though with a smile. Her own husband looked up and greeted them both warmly and gave their daughter a wave, but he wasn’t sure that she noticed, for she was still watching the newborn intently.
Then it seemed the girl’s mother could contain it no longer and let out a small gasp –
‘It’s a boy!’
The boy’s mother responded with another watery smile while the father grinned and the pair of them looked again at the infant, which they hadn’t been able to stop doing for the past ten minutes.
‘How much does he weigh?’ Leonard asked, also gazing at the child.
‘He came in at exactly eight pounds,’ the father replied happily.
‘Wow…’ Juliet crooned softly, gazing at the baby again. ‘How are you, Alice?’ she asked the mother on the bed, drawing up two chairs for her and her husband; their daughter settled on her father’s lap.
‘I’m fine, just really, really tired,’ replied Alice. She certainly looked it; her eyes were red and puffy from crying and her blonde hair, usually so long and silky, was all wavy and thinner, as though someone had recently ruffled it. Her pretty features had been spoilt somewhat by her smudged makeup and dried tears, though she was still smiling brightly enough. She was dressed in thin cotton pyjamas since it was very warm outside and the sun shone directly on to her bed.
‘Yes,’ Juliet said sympathetically. ‘Still, it’s all worth it! … Has he got a name yet?’ she added, again trying to restrain her obvious exhilaration.
Alice looked to her husband to answer, as he had thought of the name. He was in his late thirties, which explained his recently receding hairline and full stomach, though he was powerfully built with muscly arms and legs, which were covered in scars and burns. The June heat had forced him into a plain white T-shirt and navy shorts and he, like the visiting mother, was sporting a pair of smart sunglasses.
‘Jack Tom, we decided, after my great uncle and Alice’s grandfather,’ he told Juliet and Leonard, who both nodded appreciatively.
‘“Jack Hayden”,’ said Leonard aloud. ‘It does have a nice ring to it!’ he concluded happily. ‘What do you think, Ella?’
The father looked down at his daughter on his lap and stroked her hair.
‘Jack,’ she said suddenly, and her parents and the boy’s father laughed. Embarrassed by her outburst, the little girl plunged her head into her father’s stomach and curled up. He was still in his work suit as they had come to visit during Leonard’s lunch hour. He usually looked rather serious: his face could only be described as ‘normal’ and he wore glasses over his grey eyes. However, he was good-natured and had a subtle, but good, sense of humour.
‘Ooh!’ Juliet suddenly appeared to snap out of her reverie and quickly unzipped her black bag. ‘We have a little present for him actually, I nearly forgot ...’ She put her hand into the depths of the bag and withdrew a little spongy football. She got up and handed it to the other mother.
‘Aww, thank you, you two,’ Alice said gently, accepting the soft ball. She drew it down to her baby’s eye level, who stared at it with big eyes, as though transfixed by it. He extended a chubby little arm and pressed his hand against the ball, keeping his expression unchanged. Everyone watched him for a couple of moments, even the mothers in the other beds. Alice smiled down at her child adoringly.
‘Which means that Ella can have Jack’s other present, had he been a girl!’ Juliet added, waving another squishy ball, though this one was pink and patterned with what looked like unicorns.
‘He loves it already,’ Alice said, beaming dotingly.
A few more moments passed, in which just the cries of babies from the other beds interposed the sweet silence.
‘Well, I’m afraid we can’t stay any longer, Leonard needs to get back to work,’ said Juliet, looking at her husband. ‘It’s been lovely seeing you both – or you three, should I say!’ she added with another furtive look towards Jack. She bent down to kiss Alice on the cheek and her husband once he’d stood up.
‘Hope to see you up and about again soon, Alice ... good to see you, Kevin,’ Juliet said, swinging her leather bag over her shoulder again.
‘Thanks for dropping by,’ said Kevin, as he shook hands with Leonard. ‘We’ll see you again soon I expect ... have a good rest of the day!’ He waved again at Ella, who waved her little hand back with an uncertain smile; she grabbed hold of her father’s hand as they began to walk out of the ward and Alice and Kevin thought they heard another sharp ‘Jack!’ from the little girl before the double doors swung shut again.
Kevin pulled up one of the chairs and settled on it next to the bed. He stretched out a finger towards the little baby, who clasped it in his tiny fist, his eyes still wide as he took in details of this strange world. Kevin and Alice smiled as they both gazed into Jack’s wide blue eyes.
‘He’s perfect, isn’t he?’ Kevin grinned.
‘Yes,’ Alice said throatily after a pause, ‘he’s perfect.’

It's a interesting story, there are somethings that you should take note of though. It's a little long, making it harder on reviewers, like myself, to read. Try putting it into two separate parts. An example would be: Chapter 1 (part one). This will make it easier on reviewers. Try to avoid using parentheses too often. Every now and then is okay. Up in the beginning, realised is spelled realize. I hope this helps!
Could you inform me when you put up the next chapter? I'd be interested in reading it.