The Other Side: Chapter Three

Chapter 3

I was dressed and ready to go before Mum had even woken up. Pulling her from bed (amidst Dad's sleepy protests) I got her breakfast, pushed clothes into her hands and got her in the car. She was just awake by the time the car was backing from the drive.

Picking up Harriet from her house, I was a bundle of excitement. We sat in the back feverishly talking about what we were going to buy with our pocket money - and secretly remembering who we were going to meet.

Mum dropped us off at the gate, said "Bye!" and drove off. We walked through the park, which was filled with removeable marquees filled with weares. Insuspiciously walking to the fruit and vege stalls, we saw the Xyrn - the only one who wasn't bustling past at a hurried rate.

She was gorgeous, with a scarf around her neck, a yellow jersey, demin jeans and plain sneakers. She had brunette hair in gentle waves and starling grey eyes.

We walked up, and said "Hi."

She gave us a lovely smile and said "Hello to you too."

Harriet blurted out "Are you from Xyrn?"

The lady looked around then said quietly "Yes."

"Do you know Johnathan Furment?"

The lady thought. "Was he a Catholic, a Dad and a Wife before coming to Xyrn in his 50s?" she said eventually.

"Yes," breathed Harriet.

"Then I do know him," She decided, "But in Xyrn we change our names to suite our personality. His name is Shryn (Shrine) for he loves to go to the Chapel and pray at the Shrine."

"Wow," Harriet said.

"How about Melody Harper?" I asked quickly.

"Aha!" said the Xyrn, "She came just last year. She is very tipsy, I know! Yes, she finds the praying every Thursday slightly annoying, but you don't say that in Xyrn."

Then she looked more closely at me.

"Tell me," she said, "What is your name?"

"Darcey Symmonds."

"Do you know... a James Symmonds?"

"N-No."

"Oh Dear." The lady looked around once more, before asking "Do you want to know?"

"Yes," I said.

"He's your brother."

All the excitement building in my chest exploded and I found it hard to breathe. "My brother?" I gasped.

"He is 17. You are...?"

"I'm 12." Tears were welling in my eyes. Snippets of memories floated to the surface of my mind. A boy of seven playing with me happily... a ten year old trying to teach me to spell... a rebelious thirteen year old screaming at his parents while I watched in fear...

All of these memories pushed away, because they were jumble. And now I knew what they were.

"I'm gonna kill my parents," I muttered.

But first, some detective work.

Reviews

[Hans von Lieven]

You have been busy. This must have been posted as I was reviewing the previous chapter.
You are keeping the pace and the story is unfolding well. Keep going, this looks like fun.

Just a couple of small errors this time:
what we were going to buyt with our pocket money (Typo buy) removeable tents filled with weares. (wares)

Good luck

Hans von Lieven