Chapter 3

A heritage is discovered?

“Don’t wake me up.

I am still dreaming.

The story’s undone.

Unraveled at the seams.”

-The Hush Sound

 

“So,” Mr. Vern said, “…Samantha…,” he read her name off of the sheet he was holding. “It’s time to go see your new home.”

She merely nodded, and they began to walk.

“Why is it so quiet here?” she mumbled to him, feeling like talking at normal volume was forbidden in such a silent town.

“We usually walk when we’re moving around throughout the town. It’s a small town anyway, so we figured we’d save the gas. We only use cars on long drives to get supplies, so you don’t often hear car noises around here. And also, today is the Day of Mourning.”

“Day of Mourning?” she asked.

“Well, Samantha….,” he flipped through her papers, and his eyes grew wide. “Samantha….Monteque?!” She nodded slowly, not understanding what was so exciting about a simple last name, one that had meant nothing to her for so long.

“What were your parents’ names?” he asked excitedly.

“Uh…Jake and Molly,” she answered slowly, “Why?”

Samantha could have sworn that Mr. Vern would’ve been doing cartwheels if he could. “Follow me!” he exclaimed, taking long strides ahead. Samantha spotted pointed roofs in the distance, and jogged to keep up with him. “The Day of Mourning was created in memory of the destruction of our home.”

They came into a kind of town square. Samantha’s eyes immediately fell upon a stone statue standing proudly in the center of all the interconnected paths. The statue was of a dove valiantly perching upon a crest. Within the crest was a large sun, with a diagonal stripe behind it. Beneath it was a dedication.

“To Jake and Molly Monteque,” Samantha read aloud, her nose wrinkled in confusion. There was something very familiar to her about the crest, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. A memory flashed in her mind, but she disregarded it.

“They were great heroes at the time of our Desecration Period.”

“Desecration Period?” Melinda asked, wrapping her mind around the new term.

“Let me tell you about it.”

They sat down at the statues’ base. Mr. Vern scratched his hairless chin in thought, trying to decide where to begin the story.

“So…,” he cleared his throat, “It all began fifteen years ago…,”

 

~

Smoke, so much smoke. It curled around the living, snaking its way between them. The stench of death polluted the air, and death reeked of the black blood that wet the ground, making mud squish beneath Calronian feet.

The Sarkens rose their guns and screamed obscenities as they fired upon their defenseless enemies. Women, men, and children alike were pitched away from their families, coarse ropes thrown around their thrashing bodies as they screamed and were dragged over enemy lines, their nails dragging across the dark earth. The sky was a bright bloody red, black demonic clouds floating across it.

The Calronians had indeed believed that they had awoken to hell. The Sarken’s leader surged forward with a blade, bloodlust in his crazed and gleaming eyes.

 

~

            Samantha awoke with a scream, sweat standing out in droplets on her face. Had she awoken to hell? No. She was in a house. And it was just a bad dream.

            “God, why did Mr. Vern have to describe the battle so graphically?” she sighed. Samantha ran a hand across her forehead and wiped off the beaded perspirationwith a grimace. So much had happened today.

            Scottie flicked on the light and came into Samantha’s room. Her light hazel eyes were soft and concerned, her short and wispy brown hair framing her delicate face. She walked over and sat on the edge of Samantha’s bed.

            “Samantha, are you okay?” she asked, her voice as concerned as her eyes.

Samantha nodded slowly. “I guess so. It was just a….just a really bad dream.”

            “Want to talk about it?” she asked softly.

            “Uh…,” she hesitated, “I think I just need to be alone for a little bit.”

            “…Okay…,” Scottie’s voice betrayed the slightest bit of hurt as she rose and left the room, flicking off the light as she left.

            Samantha sighed as she was immersed in darkness, and laid her head back onto her pillow. Her eyes bored into the ceiling as she attempted to organize her thoughts, muddled and twisted.

Mr. Vern had dropped her off at this house, telling the family her story. They had accepted her-in her opinion-quite graciously, and she immediately felt at home.

The two adults’ names were Isabella and Dylan, and their daughter was Scottie. Their last name was Helady. Having Scottie as an adopted sister was more than Melinda could have asked for. An only child that was her age! Finally, someone she could talk to, someone who could understand her. Not that Samantha had exactly been giving off a “Talk to me!” vibe.

She pulled the covers over her eyes and fell into a blank, calming coma of a sleep.

Author's Note

Longer, but tell me what you think I should work on.