The Book Of Etheria

---chapter one---

We stroll through the cold city of London, rubble from past bombing a sore sight. Families huddle together tightly, tears running down each of their faces. I get closer to Mother, lacing my pale fingers through hers, coarse from the many hours of work in the garden. She squeezes it comfortingly as we walk up the driveway to our house, rations in bags.

  As soon as we've walked through the door Miss Daily comes rushing towards us, a cheerful smile plastered on her face. Anyone would think she was incapable of feeling any other emotions.

"Let me help you out dear," she holds back the sleeves of my newest coat. I give her a nod in gratitude as she hangs it up on the wooden peg behind us. Once the wall was scattered with memories, now even the slightest mention of father ended with mother in tears.

I make sure to take off my flats before running up the carpeted stairs to my room. Wandering over to my desk I rummage through the piles of papers in search of my pen. The same pen father gave me before he left to fight in the war.

He told me he'd write me letters with a matching one. It was our friendship bracelet. He did for a while, sending drawings of the horses he'd ridden into battle that may or may not have made it out alive. Yet not long ago he stopped sending them. Mother refuses to mention the idea that he could have possibly passed and instead tells us he's probably busy. That didn't stop the inevitable thoughts running roam in my brain.

With a knock at my door, I'm pulled back out of my thoughts. "Come in!"

Cathy walks through the door with her plain white dress swaying gently at her ankles. She gives me a smile and pulls out a stack of books from behind her back.

"They're newly finished," she places them on my bedside table as always. "I think you'll really enjoy this one."

She holds up a copy of The Great Adventures in Elindra, the pages a victim of her dog-earing habit.  I storm over to her and snatch the poor thing from the clutches of its enemy. Scanning the blurb, the words hook me in, a small shriek of excitement escapes my lips just as my ears turn a light shade of red.

"It sounds good," I say in an attempt to cover up the scene I'd just caused, "Thank you so much!"

Covering her mouth with her soft hands, she gives a polite chuckle and floats towards my desk.

"What are you doing?" she asks, tracing her fingers along the edge of my desk.

"I'm looking for the pen Father gave me, I lost it before we went out. I need to find it otherwise Fathers going to be really mad..."

She walks over to me gently and wraps her arms around my waist giving me a comforting bear hug. Tears wet her dress. I didn't mean to cry, they just escaped from their cell.

They've been locked in for so long, and they were searching for a reason to escape. This stupid war has taken away everybody's happiness and instead replaced it with the looming feeling of nothingness.

I've been trying to find a way to make everyone feel just a little bit better. I gave my friends flower crowns before they left for the countryside. I've helped mum out in the garden. I've left some blankets outside for those whose homes have been severely damaged to take if they needed one. Nothing seems to work.

The feeling always seems to stick around.

We sat there for a while, me and Cathy. She offers to help me look for the pen before she leaves, I deny the offer and head back to the task at hand.

I rummage through the paper, full of possible story ideas and random scenes I get for books that I end up scraping entirely. It pains me to think that one day soon I'll have to leave everything behind for the dirt and manure of the country.

Not long after Cathy leaves there's another gentle knock.

"Come in!" I shout as loudly as possible from the corner of my room.

Willy walks in, his hands behind his back, his eyes filled with nothing but guilt. Slowly, I walk over to him, my arm outstretched for him to take.

"What's wrong?" I say as he puts his hands around my neck for a cuddle.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles.

"What are you sorry for Wil? You've not got anything to be sorry for."

He pulls out the pen from the safety of his trouser pocket as his eyes begin to well up.

"No, no. Don't cry. You're not in trouble," I give him a gentle kiss on the cheek, "I'm not mad, why didn't you just ask?"

He stays silent.The ticking of the clock echoing.

"Okay, okay. You don't need to tell me, just don't do it again okay?" I hold out my hand for him to shake, and he does. Hopping down from my bed, he murmurs another apology and heads out the door.

I walk over to my desk and place the pen in the same favorite mug of fathers as it's always been in. I stare at it as happy memories flash before my eyes.

Breaking out of the trance, I stroll back over to my wooden bedside table and pick up the book Cathy had lent me. Laying down on my bed, I turn to the very first page. Every page I turn, the more I feel the real world being taken away from me and the beauty of a fictional one replacing it...