The Livingstone Estate

Chapter 1. Ink

Immediately, Trina bashfully removed her hand from the cold metal pen with too dry ink. Her head tilted slightly to the side as she noticed how her writing looked like chicken scratches and pools of ink gathered by the edges of the letters. Trina nervously looked around for a place to hide the ruined paper. Paper was a privilege, and each household only ever had a few sheets at a time. Moreover, Trina just ruined one. She ran her fingers across the dry edge of the paper, and imagined all of the trees that were cut, pulped, and squashed down, to make this skin slicing, silky, taupe coloured commodity. It was somewhat silly, Trina thought. Spending so much money on something you rarely used in life, let alone something you could barely afford to have a couple pages of at a time. It indeed was strange, but that was what life was, Trina supposed. Working hard and buying things that do not matter in the long run, that will not matter one year from today and most certainly not in one hundred years. In fact, nothing that happened was going to really change anything on the poor abandoned island that Trina called home. Nothing was ever going to change it, except time itself. That was the only thing that could indefinitely change anyone or anything, time. Trina looked back up the stairs and thought about her mother. Time must have been cruel to her. Squeezing life, joy and hope from her and leaving her life dry, like the piece of paper in front of Trina. Trina thought hard about the Estate. It was the only interesting and possibly valuable thing on Bridge Borne, and Trina thought about how time had been cruel to it as well. That was the only thing she could say about it.

Trina often thought and portrayed what was in the old, crumbling brick building. Eventually, the building would fall and tumble down to the ground, and in one hundred years, no one would question it or anything that once happened in it. Because time changes all. Trina knew very little about time. Except for night and day, weeks and months and years and decades. That was mostly all it was, after all. Nothing more, nothing less. Just a never ending due date, that ended on your last day on earth. Time never expires, it is quite simply timeless. Trina liked that word. It seemed important, factual and intelligent and above all, worthy. Trina looked down at the ruined paper, still anxious about hiding it. She grabbed it and tried to balance the dark coloured ink to make sure it did not flow over the sides. Trina felt the thin silky texture for the last time as she took slow, rhythmic steps across the creaky splinter causing floors, to the backdoor. It was lined with dirtied porcelain tile and was always slightly ajar. No matter how much force you used to push it, the size of your biceps or all your muscles in your body, the door simply would never close fully. There was always a slight salty breeze that entered and exited the shack whenever it pleased. It was never a top priority to Trina or her family, the saltiness often was the most pleasant of smells, as it reminded them that they were not the only ones in the world.

There was an unknown bigger than anything they could ever imagine, an impossibly big ocean with creatures you could only ever find in your dreams, living under the noses of arrogant humans that chose to not believe in anything they have never seen. Perhaps that is why Bridge Borne is so scarcely populated. A countless amount of sailors could have came among this newly discovered land, and talked ad nauseam about the natural advantages of the place, the rich mineral deposits, the mean rainfall, the possibility for dykes, all the potential this place had, relishing in the thought that they could have done something important, but no one believed them. They had not thought to take photographs of the island, so without the evidence, the island was non-existent. It vanished off the face of the earth the moment unresentful sneers came from the kings and his Generals. Mockeries in the newspaper, depicting how their deranged idea there was land in the middle of the ocean only projected their insanity. However, that did bring into question why there were people in Bridge Borne after all. As far as Trina could tell, her family had been living there for decades. She never remembered coming to Bridge Borne. He only way you could possibly get there was by taking a boat with an unheard of longitude and latitude. Trina tried to think of the sensation of being rocked gently as the hypnotic and metronomic waves clashed in the background. Trina tried her best to remember, but she could not recall being anywhere except Bridge Borne her entire life. But, that posed the question, why did Trina's ancestors come here? Why would they spend their whole life in a stagnant, somber state, when they probably knew there were more things out there? Confined in a village that never had more than 50 people living there. Were they running from something? What would be so terrible to run from that you demolish your entire life? Unless they were forced here...

That is bogus. Trina said, interrupting the whirlwind of thoughts in her mind with one clear truth. Whatever my ancestors did is not up to me anymore. I am here, and that is all that really matters. If I keep doing this, I am going to hurt myself. Trina felt the velvety fabric of her dress brush against her knees as she continued walking towards that back door. Everything felt slightly obscure after all the thoughts she had running wildly through her mind. So many, it was hard to focus on reality. Whatever it was. Trina kept walking to the backdoor when she felt her footstep on an uneven piece of floorboard. She tried to keep her balance, but with her other leg in the air, her foot gave out and Boom. The pain from the fall ran up Trina's arm, causing a blinding whiteness to fill her vision as her arm ached felt like thousands of shards of glass were piercing it, as the pitch black ink slowly rolled down Trina's cheeks like they were waterfalls. When Trina opened her squinted eyes, everything was a blur of pixelated colours and shapes, but something was different about the scene. Though the door was still ajar, there was something blocking the normally blinding brightness of the sky, as Trina regained her composure, she saw something she was not expecting. The silhouette, of a man. Of a boy, more specifically. Standing right by the door. Trina got on her knees, and used her hands to push herself up off her wobbly and unsteady legs, and sauntered over to the door to see that her suspicions were correct, it was a boy. He had chestnut brown hair and hazel eyes, which brought out the randomly dispersed freckles on his face. Trina was taken a back. She had never seen this boy before, in her entire life. He was taller than she was, so he was probably her age, or older. Through Trina's obscurity and confusion, she managed to utter out the words, "Who are you?" Trina was still in a daze, dizzy and slightly nauseous, but she knew the boys professionally tailored blazer and silk cream coloured button up shirt were not made in Bridge Borne. They did not belong in Bridge Borne.

"Damien Joyce, at your service." The boy replied chipperly, with a slight bow. Trina squinted, trying to convey her uncertainty to the optimistic boy. "Why are you here?" Trina continued. The boy chuckled, in an attempt to sound humble. "My father is a general in Britain, and he's researching this island for the king." Trina's eyes went as large as saucers and her skin went pale.

What. Just. Happened.