Chapter 1
Dark. That, irrevocably, was the only possible word to describe me at that time; or, possibly, at any moment up until then. Clearly that was what my parents thought about me, too. Even the weather agreed. Of course, I had heard the story many times, and even heard my parent's apologies for the dreadful name that they had bestowed on me.
The night was stormy, loud, and dreary. Not a ray of sunlight had been seen for hours, and yet something that could either be seen as a miracle or a disaster happened. I was born.
You see, it has been a tradition, since who knows when, that all the children in our family would be named after a word that describes what the weather was like that day. Hence the ironic surname that we all were subjected to: Merryweather. Whoever thought up that one must have had a sick and twisted sense of humor. If anything, our naming system was anything but merry. This was, of course, my own personal interpretation. If you were one of the lucky one's who received names that were uncannily happy- such as Joy, or Grace, then your observation would probably differ from mine. However, I found the entire matter both unneeded and horrible.
"Kiara," my mother summoned me from the kitchen where she was cooking. The steam from the pot filled our entire five-room, cramped home with a mouth-watering aroma. My reverie ceased at the sound of my name, and I stood up from my seat near the window. I tugged at the bottom of my dingy tank-top, making sure that it covered all of my midsection and slowly maneuvered to the kitchen. My mother was standing beside the small fireplace where a pot was boiling our dinner.
"Yeah?" I asked quietly from the doorway, tucking a strand of my chestnut hair behind my ear.
"Go get your sister. Dinner's almost ready," she ordered, her eyes never leaving the pot that was suspended above the flames.
I nodded wordlessly and shuffled over to the door. The dingy, muddy ground met my feet, and I shuddered in surprise of how cold it was outside of our small home. Rowdy children lined the streets, and I strained my eyes in search of my younger sister. I soon found her small head of bouncing blond curls, surrounded by the smelly, mud-covered children that lived on our street.
"Joy!" I yelled in her direction, and her lively brown eyes met mine. "Dinner's ready."
Joy then ran in my direction, waving goodbye to her many friends. I unconsciously felt a pang of envy in my gut. Never had I been as outgoing and cheerful as my eight-year-old sister. As you can probably tell, our names strangely fit us both perfectly.
We both walked back into our shabby living quarters. While we walked Joy rambled on about her day, and I nodded and laughed when needed. When we crossed the door frame, I discovered that my father was sitting at our small table, a small smile placed upon his lips. Joy’s immediate reaction was to jump into his lap and repeat the pointless accounts of the day that I had already heard.
The family and I sat down for a wimpy meal of soup and bread, but none of us complained; this was the typical Merryweather meal. My father and sister shared stories, but I remained silent and only responded when necessary. Of course, by then my entire family, brother and sister-in-law included- were all used to my reticent behavior. Talking wasn’t usually an easy thing for me; every time I opened my mouth, something that I didn’t mean to say, or even wanted to say, escaped my lips, and embarrassment quickly followed.
After our meal, my brother Corwin- whose name means white, for he was born in the middle of a snow storm- and sister-in-law Leisa came to visit. Huddled around the fire, we all mingled and smiled, happiness filling the tight quarters we were all forced into. Corwin was sitting beside me as always, but he wouldn’t usually try to talk to me that much. He knew that him being there was enough.
“Kiara?” he unexpectedly called my name, turning his head to study me with his pale eyes.
“Hm?” I responded, staring back at him.
“What do you think I should get Joy for her birthday?” he whispered, a slight smirk on his lips.
I thought for a moment before answering, weighing the options carefully. Although we didn’t have much money, giving birthday presents was an expense that we all risked.
“She’s been asking for a doll lately,” I softly informed.
Corwin nodded his head in thanks. Soon my brother left, promising to come back in the morning to wish Joy a happy birthday. At the mention of her upcoming event, the little girl began bouncing up and down and making up a song about her birthday. Corwin smiled happily and left with Leisa close behind him.
Because it was getting dark and my father had to work the next day, we all headed off to bed. My parents cautiously climbed the steep staircase, while Joy and I headed off into our room down the hall. Since my little sister was so excited about the next day, she could hardly stop fidgeting.
“Joy,” I called in a warning tone. “You need to go to sleep, dear. I know that you’re excited, but you need to go to bed.”
Joy, unnerved by my orders, crossed her arms in a huff and stood there with fury in her eyes. “But I’m not tired, Kiara.”
Rolling my eyes, I plopped down on my mattress, sleepily removing my shoes. “Okay, Joy-Joy. Have fun passing out on your birthday.” The blond seemed to be taken completely off guard by my remarks. Her eyes widened as she thought over the horrible events that could happen if she slept through her entire birthday. I smiled faintly at her attitude while I slipped the thin quilt over my bony legs. Within five minutes Joy was snoring under her blankets.
While the child slept soundly beside me, I stared out the window, wishing that I would somehow fall asleep. After what seemed like ages, I sat up and gazed out the window. The stars were beaming down at me; their shining faces taunting my every move. Everyone knew the bright night-lights were there. We all knew that they were there for a reason. In a way, the stars and me had everything and nothing in common.
The stars could be seen from miles away, I could only been seen at my home. I was always in the background, not really known by many; all know the stars, and yet they’re always set into the background, rarely the center of attention.
I sat at my window for a while before I recognized the odd noise from below. Something was hitting the miss-matching wood of my home. My eyes widened and I swept my eyes across the perimeter. Nothing was there.
“H-hello?” I stuttered, my voice taking on a high frequency. I heard the faint tapping once again, yet no voice responded to my voice.
“Is anyone there?” I continued stupidly, not bothering to look down. Silence greeted me. The odd noise had disappeared, and only the cricket’s song could be heard. I bit my lip nervously, hoping that it was just an animal or something else that wouldn’t harm me. A few minutes passed without a sound, and eventually I found myself crawling back under the covers.
Sleep was about to overtake me when I heard it again. This time, though, it was exceedingly louder. My eyes popped out of their sockets when I noticed that the sound was slowly moving higher up on the wood, creeping towards my window. I guardedly turner over towards the window, and I hoped that a scream wouldn’t escape my throat. Standing there, barely visible in the moonlight, was a dark figure. Immediately, I jolted upright in bed, ready to start screaming for help. Right when the word ‘Papa’ was about to break through my lips, I heard the familiar voice of one of my neighbors.
“Oh, shit!” he swore, jumping through the window and clamping his hand on my mouth. Instantly I knew who it was, and I glared brutally at my best friend.
As soon as he saw that I knew who was pretending to kidnap me, he burst into quiet laughter, failing to support himself. “You… should have… seen… your face!” he quietly exclaimed through laughter.
“Very nice, Chance,” I sarcastically rewarded him.
“I’m just here to help.” He grin devilishly, a strange light in his eyes. “Ya know,” he began before I could retaliate. “We haven’t done anything in ages. What’d ya say, Kiara? Let’s go… burn a barn, or something.”
I raised my eyes at his unconventional request. This was the beginning of Chance Alberik’s phase that involved wreaking havoc on the small village that we grew up in. I knew that I wanted to spend time with my childhood friend, but I also knew that I didn’t want to risk getting in trouble. I knew that one night of fun and games wasn’t worth the punishment that usually followed it.
“I think I’ll pass,” I informed, pulling the quilt closer to my bare shoulders.
“Awe, c’mon!” he whined unattractively. “You know you want to.” He wiggled his eyebrows in a playful fashion.
“Can’t we do something else? Something that doesn’t involve getting arrested?” I begged.
Chance stared me down for a while, his right eyebrow arching so high that it hid behind his long, shaggy black hair. “Fine,” he gave in, “but I get to chose.”
I nodded solemnly, not wanting to break into arguments that lead to absolutely nothing. Chance pondered for a bit, his eyes staring over my shoulder. Finally, after a few seconds of silence, a grin appeared on his lips, and the glimmer of impish plotting shone through his green eyes.
Before he could explain himself, Mr. Alberik grabbed my hand and towed me out the window, attempting to make as little noise as possible. I felt oddly cold outside of our home, for I was only wearing a ratty tank top and holy jeans. While my best friend ushered me through the streets of Deadalus, I couldn’t help but rub my arms to try and prevent frostbite from nipping at my bare skin.
Chance must have noticed my shivering form, for he removed his old, worn jacket off of his shoulders and lightly dropped it over my torso. I smiled at him, thankful for his act of kindness. Chance then bowed silently, in a ‘that’s right, you know you love me’ sort of way. Smiling at his childlike pride, I hugged the coat closer to me as we shuffled through the deserted streets.
The outline of a large, distorted mass came into view, blocking any possible line of sight to anything past it. The humongous lump was made up of old telephones, televisions, and DVD players- anything that was connected to the old world. The ‘ruler’ of Labyrinth, or the oppressor, as most would have chosen to refer to him as, had outlawed all such object. Why? Well, Mr. Malachi Talbott believed that they gave us too much freedom. So, instead, he kept such devices for himself, or whoever he felt pity for. Clearly, very few had this privilege.
Talbott began his rule when my father, Donovan (which means dark, similar to my own name), was close to my age. Not many remember what it was like, when we could actually leave the semi-comfort of our homes without fear of getting shot or persecuted. Schooling was no longer a subject of interest, because books had become outlawed when I was a baby.
Neither of my parents agreed with Malachi Talbott, and yet they didn’t do anything to revolt against him. Instead, Mr. and Mrs. Merryweather chose to teach my sister and I as much as they can without drawing attention to the family. Only one book was kept in the house, and that was hidden inside a heavy safe under the floorboards. This book, of course, was only used when a new child was born; it was a book of different names and their meanings. Yeah, I don’t completely understand my family’s tradition, either.
“I wonder,” Chance suddenly mused while he plopped down on the mud that surrounded the ditch that contained the broken electronics. “How much trouble do ya think we’ll get in if we steal one o’ the many do-hickies that are here?”
I shrugged, not really knowing how to answer. “I don’t know, but you already promised that we weren’t going to get arrested tonight.”
“Tonight,” he sighed, staring up at me with pointed eyes, “we won’t, but what about tomorrow? What if,” he began, excitement painting his voice. “What if just taking one of these-“ he kicked an old T.V. with his boot- “is enough to prove that ol’ Talbot ain’t no match for us?”
“I don’t know, Alberik,” I sighed.
“You never know, do you?” he teased. Sticking my tongue out, I plunked down beside him, ignoring his observation. Chance and I remained there for what seemed like hours without any trouble. Of course, all good things have to come to an end at some time.
Voices reached my ears, and the sight of flashlight beams being aimed in our direction caught my attention.
“Chance!” I panicked, gathering myself up off the ground and scouring around the clump of junk. I lowered myself down
to my haunches and sat there, holding my breath and waiting to hear the threats- and possible gun shots- that were sure to be aimed in my direction. The sound of someone clumsily coming to my side captured my thoughts. By my side was Chance, breathing heavily from running, and a rascally smile on his lips.
“Chance,” I repeated in a menacing tone. “I can’t get arrested again.”
“Relax, Kiara. We’ll be fine,” he assured. Although my odd friend seemed to be convinced of his own reasoning, I couldn’t bring myself to be as calm as him. The police were only ten feet away from us, and I could already feel the punishment coming on.
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