Ch.1 My TurnA Chapter by Bri Shadow lives with his brother in another dimension. We are slightly familiar with this dimension yet we know nothing of what goes in inside. Care to find out? Dimensions By: Bri Rodriguez Ch. 1 My turn.
I know you're there. You watch us through those windows that you call books. I'm not going to tell you a fantasy like Cinderella or Snow White, I'm the real deal. My mother told me not to speak to the Watchers. Told me that you're meant to watch us. To haunt our lives, ruin our privacy. Well, now it's time you learn about us. I plan to break the glass that seperates the bond between your dimension and mine. First, I should probably introduce myself, I'm Scott Hunter but most call me Shadow. I live in a new book called "Dimensions", it's the story that I'm creating right now and you're in it. You're a Watcher, and I can see you right now. You have slight confusion in your aura mixed with contentment and glee. Shall I explain further? Us "Characters" in your books are real people. We live, breath, and feel. We come in many shapes and sizes. You may be wondering: "How is that possible when there are book writers?" Well, those book writers are your gateway to our world. They pick and choose which stories that they want to display. Some book writers can only write what is put right in front of them. They put our lives on paper, giving you, the reader, a look into our lives. Us Characters have no choice but to let them in, once our story is out, we have to re-live it for every single reader that happens to come by our story. If we're lucky, you'll put the book down. If not, we (and every other person in the book) has to replay every single moment over and over again. Kissing scenes are the worst. Try kissing a bad kisser a hundred million times and see if it's as magical as it was the first time. Thank goodness we don't have to work over night, or our lives would truly suck. You readers are a pain. When I look at you, I see a dark hole in front of me, looking into my thoughts. Your emotions are displayed in your aura, a gas-like thing that hangs above your dark shadow of a face. The farther you get into the book, the more I can see your face.
"Shadow, hey get up, you have a Watcher on your shoulder.", Jack says sleepily. I yawn and roll myself out of bed. "Hey, is Edward up yet? Bella wanted me to tell him something.", I say with another yawn. "Uh, yeah, I thought I saw him getting up.", Jack says, handing me my comb. I brush through my thick black hair, the same hair as his. Our eyes are both mutations: left eye green, the other a bright violet with long lashes that get us out of trouble pretty quick. I have my father's: long straight nose, full lips, and large eyes. While Jack has my mother's: bumpy nose, wide lips, and deep set eyes.
You might know my brother Jack from Jack and the Bean Stalk. He's pretty famous for that one so, that's his job as a Character, he has to go replay that book over and over until the book loses its value. Then Jack can ditch that book and retire into Book history in about a hundred years or so. Thank goodness I'm still just a small character in other books. So, I only have to work three days a week, then there's always our three day weekend. "Hey, how come the Watcher came so early, did you make a story?", Jack asks suspiciously. "I dunno, I guess a writer thinks I'm worth taking a story out of.", I lie.
I'm a good liar. Dad taught me how to get myself out of trouble while Ma was giving Jack the family cow. Besides lying, my father told me how to use my looks for the greater good, how to 'defend' myself, how to blend in with almost anything, and among may other things, I'm one of the best pick-pocketer on this side of the dimension, making me unstoppable. But, they don't know that. The Story Instructors, I mean. If they found out I had all these skills, they would either decide I deserve to be in jail, or stick me into some sappy love story about how a bad guy goes good to get the girl.
That would suck. So, that's why I stay undercover, pretending to be a loser while I steal and trick things into my hands.
"Hey, you going to do any stories today? I need you to go get me something.", Jack says, breaking through my thoughts. "Uh, yeah, I mean no. I'm not doing anything. What do you need?", I ask, hoping it won't interefere with the day I planned, breaking into Cinderella's palace for some food. "I need you to go get some medicine for the Characters in Sector five, the plague has spread there and I need you to deliver the medicine to one of the hospitals before the Watchers get suscpicious.", he says, I can see that his nerves are getting to him. My brother has never been one to handle things very well. Just the thought of innocent people dying makes him want to cry but, I can't blame him, he has never been tough. "Why do we have to give it to them? Why doesn't the Brotherhood go give it to them? Why am I the one that has to risk my life for a bunch of people I don't even know?", I ask, confused. "Fine, if you want me to do it, I will.", he threatens, knowing I could never let my little brother anywhere else besides Sector three.
I sigh, defeated. "Fine, I'll do it but, you owe me little bro.", I say, ruffling his hair. It doesn't take much effort to mess with his hair, he stands a foot shorter than me, three years younger than my sixteen years.
He brushes out his hair, fixing his curls to frame his face in a perfect- childlike way. He was eleven when he first started Jack and the Beanstalk. The story has lasted hundreds of years but when a story is as famous as his, time picks up in our dimension when he replays it, making it easier to go through the story in just one work day. "I knew that one would work on you. Okay, you can't steal the medicine, that's why we're delivering the medicine to Sector five, because all the Brotherhood are too scared to do it themselves. Sector five ran out of medicine so I need you to go get the packages of medicine and deliver it by next week.", Jack says urgently. "How do you know about this? You're only thirteen!", I exclaim. "The Brotherhood were talking about needing a delivery boy to go take it to them. I heard them talking about it near my beanstalk.", he shrugs. "Oh, so, this is for money? Why didn't you just say so? I'll leave tonight. How much am I getting paid? That's a week of travelling.", I say, wanting to get paid more for my troubles that I'm going to make up as soon as I get to the Quarters. "I don't know, they said that there was a prize but, I don't know what.", he says with a sideways glance.
I'm going to pretend that I didn't see that.
"Okay, I'm up for it. I'll pack up the car and go get the meds then I'll leave by sunset to get a headstart.", I say, already grabbing my satchel and stuffing it with clothes. He grabs my arm, stopping me. I look up at him and see a face full of fear. "Please Shadow, be careful, we don't know what the plague is like, only rumors that cannot be trusted.", his voice is urgent and his mutated eyes are thick with pain. His body language suggests that he is very worried and strained. I put my bag down on the pile of blankets on the couch and plant my hands on his shoulders, looking him straight in his eyes. "Jack, I will be as careful as possible. You're right, we don't know anything about the plague but don't worry, I got this under control.", I lie. He appears to have bought it judging by the relaxation in his shoulders and the small vein in his neck popping back into place.
He's right. We really don't know anything about the plague. Some say the Characters go crazy, ruining their stories and killing people and themselves in the process. Others say that the plague is just merely a myth, something to keep Characters in their Sectors. No one really knows how it started. It just appeared. Killing millions of Characters, shutting thousands of Watchers out of our world.
"Okay well, I guess I'll see you next week?", Jack says, shrugging out of my hands which are still firmly placed onto his frail shoulders. "Uh, maybe, might take a week or two, depending on if I have to make any more deliveries.", I say, turning my attention back to packing. "Alright, see you then big bro. I'm going to go to work. Love you, man.", he says, giving me a firm slap on the back. A trademark sign of affection in the Hunter family. I return the gesture and watch his back as he leaves our apartment. I relax and look around for anything else besides clothes that I might want to pack.
Our apartment is big, we can afford luxury due to my brother's wealth with Jack and the Beanstalk. The walls are a pale blue (Jack's favorite color) and we have nice hard wood floors. To my left is Jack's wooden desk where he keeps all of his awards and Character licenses. Directly across his desk is our large kitchen with wide granite countertops, a large stove, a glass dining room table, a sleek metal fridge and a few appliances along with a trash can in need of being thrown out. On the other side of the room, across from where I am standing is a hallway with three doors. One is Jack's room, the other is mine, and the next pale blue door is the bathroom.
I don't really sleep in my room. I prefer the couch so I can keep a close watch on thieves. The couch behind me is a dark leather sofa with a pile of blankets and pillows along with my leather satchel. The front door is behind me to my right, in front of the couch. I jog to my room and rummage through my closet for my Communicator. I find it, knowing that Jack is going to call nonstop for the first few days of travel. I cross my room to the foot of my bed where I keep my footlocker. I reach into my pullover and take out my key. I quickly unlock the locker, placing my key back into my shirt. Then I carefully lift the top off the locker, revealing shiny blades and darts. I pull out my favorite bow and arrows and strap them to my chest. I then take my sharpest switchblade and replace the knife in my left boot with it. Then I take out my newest leather gloves, they're thick and soft, yet sturdy. They hide the scars on my knuckles from old late night fights. Plus, they are pretty handy when it comes to pick pocketting. I finish packing my stuff and get dressed in a long black cloak with a black button-up shirt and some dark blue trousers.
In case you haven't noticed already, my favorite color is black. That's kinda why I'm called shadow.
I throw my satchel over my shoulder and head out to my car. This is just Sector three so, we don't have floating cars or anything like that but, we have smuggled in some hoverboards. I jog out to where my car is parked across the lot and hear a faint footstep behind me. My eyes quickly dart towards the sound, my fingers already grabbing for the blade at my side. I look to see a tall blond girl walking towards me with a curious look in her eye. Her body language suggests that she s anxious and nervous, mixed with bold pride and confidence. She has ivory skin, thin red lips, bright blue eyes and platinum colored hair. Judging by the way she is dressed in a short, floral skirt with a creased pink shirt, she is wealthy. I let her approach me, standing there patiently with my fingers still planted on the handle of my blade. She finally reaches me, a wide smile on her face, revealing straight white teeth. "Hello, what's your name?", she asks, her accent is foreign, British. I stiffen and put on a dark and mysterious face, hoping to get a few coins out of her. "I'm James, what's your name beautiful?", I ask in a charming voice. I pull my fingers through my thick hair and let it return to my forehead. Dad taught me that one. It works. She blushes and looks down. Her body language switches from stiff and proud to relaxed and flattered. "I'm Elizabeth. Just wanted to warn you about the Watcher on your shoulder.", she says shyly. She looks about sixteen, I could get about ninety coins out of her, easy.
Crap, why do you Watchers have to be so noticeable? Life would be easier is you were invisible.
I keep my face masked, keeping the cool look on my face. "Maybe it's here because it wants to see a love story.", I wink at her, about to ease in my sudden need for gas money. She blushes and grins, taking a step forward. "Yeah well, I was just about to deliver some stuff to the homeless shelter but alas, I am out of gas and I just spent all of my money on clothes for all of the homeless children.", I say with a look of pure saddness on my face. She buys it. "Awe, you're so sweet.", she says, placing a hand on my arm. her gray/blue eyes radiate worry for my fake homeless children, making me want to laugh aloud. "Yeah, I guess I'll just go walk the twenty miles to the shelter. Anything to give those poor chikdren their clothes. They wear burlap sacks, you know.", I say sadly, looking down. "I would be more than happy to take you there.", she says hopefully. "No, I couldn't ask you to use your car when I have a perfectly good one right here.", I say, my voice deep and sad. "Oh, you poor thing, how about I give you some money for gas?", she asks. I can tell that by the tone in her voice that, if I protest, she won't offer again. I look up at her and my eyes light up. "Thank you so much! The children of the Sector three thank you.", I say as she pulls a sack of coins out of her purse. She smiles brightly at me as she places the sack in my hand. I put a look of genuine thanks on my face and stuff the sack in my satchel. "No thanks is neccessary.", she says proudly. I turn to leave and she puts her hand on my arm, stopping me. "I was thinking that maybe we could go out sometime ...", she trails off in her cute little accent. "Um, I'm trying to devote my life to the shelter until I feel that I am worthy for someone as beautiful as you but, I have a brother, looks just like me.", I say, avoiding her offer. She brightens at the mention of my brother, making me hold back a grin. Jack has always looked three years older anyway. "I'll give him your number.", I say, pulling out my Communicator. I take her number and send it to Jack along with a picture of Elizabeth that she insists I send. I bid my thanks for the coins and head to the Brotherhood Center.
© 2014 BriAuthor's Note
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BriWriter's City , CAAboutI try to go through all of my read requests once a week, so, please be patient with me!!! I'm an artist of all sorts. I've been writing stories since I could first hold a pe.. more..Writing
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