User blog:Corbierr/My story, Chapter 1

'''Okay, first things first. Yesterday with my friend I read through and marked up some spots I needed to fix, though I still didn't edit yet. Just so ya'll know this is the un-edited version, which does have a few problems. :P'''

'''Anyways, here it is- Chapter 1 of my story, The Missing. '''

        Chapter 1- 

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 I think everyone’s dreamed of living in the perfect world.

 Well, for a while, I believed that I was.

Welcome to the land of Terces, a small island isolated from the rest of the world, but with an entire population of citizens who are happy, and peaceful, and want nothing more than to stay that way. A land of bustling cities and small villages, built up everywhere- in the frosty, vast purple mountains to the warm, beautiful creamy-white beaches and anywhere in between. A place where nature and industry are balanced and both are thriving.

A world where anybody can be happy.

Here, there is no such thing as poverty or war. Disease is uncommon and easily cured by any of the medicines on the market. Jobs are plentiful and nobody is stuck on the streets.

This is where I grew up. My home. Well, my real home was the old two story house In the suburbs with the chipping paint and the low hanging roof that I liked to climb up on to watch the sun rising or setting, or just admire the clouds as they gently passed by over my head, and the smell of baking cookies in the kitchen when my mom came home from her job as a school teacher, the very kitchen I had lost my first tooth and where I had helped take care of a lost kitten with my friends while my mom wasn’t around to stop us.

Of course that was my real home, it had all my history and it was the one place where I could never imagine having or wanting to leave.

But Terces was my home, too, as was it my mother’s home, and my father’s home, and the home of everybody else around me. It’s all I knew, which isn’t too bad; because that’s like saying all I knew was peace, comfort, and happiness; the smell of fresh cut grass, lemonade, and baking cookies.

There was only one little problem- The Missing.

You see, sometimes, people of any age or size or gender disappear without a trace. Nobody knows how they disappear or where they end up, or why. Some claim they are taken away by demons in the night, while others say that there are people from a rival land stealing our citizens away. But those are just stories, myths; when you grew up with this as a common occurrence, like I have, it’s about as mundane as drinking milk.

Our leader, Victor Pierce, refuses to talk about it. I’ve never expected him to. It’s just not something people tend to discuss or think about, without shrugging it off and moving on to another topic. We all just assumed it happened to anyone at any time, and we were all okay with that, as long as we ourselves weren’t affected by this mysterious yet usual event.

That’s how I always thought about it- just another fact of life that might be a problem to somebody, somewhere, but had no big bearing on my life at all. At least, that’s how I used to think of it.

My name is Mandy Spell, and this is my story.

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It was noon when I parked my bike into the driveway and tossed my helmet into the freshly cut grass on my front lawn, nearly hitting the rose garden my mother had spent days working on.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:.3in">It was a peaceful morning in my small town of Autumn Brook. The sky was cloudless, and though the sun was out, the air was relatively cool. Everything smelled of lemonade and freshly cut grass. In the background, I heard children playing and had to smile. In Autumn Brook, everything was always calm. The people, the weather, and even the activities all had a laid back feel. I loved it here.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:.3in">I took one final look around before going inside my house. Instantly, the air smelled like fresh baked cookies and I couldn’t help but pick up the pace. I was hungry after a day of ‘work’ which for me meant doing odd jobs for neighbors. I didn’t really need the money, but it gave me something to do. I hated just sitting around and doing nothing.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:.3in">“Mom?” I called, scrambling towards the kitchen, kicking my sandals off near the couch though I knew my dad would get mad at me for it when I saw him later. When I came around the corner, I heard that a cooking show was on, and knew I would be in for a treat.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:.3in">“Hello, sweetie,” She said with a smile, looking up from making a meal from the counter near the sink, and muting the television just as the lady in the show was talking about how to properly slice an onion. The sunlight washed over her, making her look even prettier than she did normally- her golden hair appeared to shine. She was wearing a nice orange sun dress that reminded me of the sunrise. “Ready for lunch?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:.3in">I grinned and propped myself up on the counter, after grabbing two large cookies. I never cared much for chocolate, but I never had a problem with her chocolate chip cookies. It almost made chocolate taste good. I wished I had been home earlier; I loved to bake with her.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:.3in">“Is dad home?” I asked her, hopefully, after taking a bite of one. My father was a member of a large corporation in Silver City, which was about seven miles away from the town border. He had to leave for work early every morning, so I never saw him when I woke up.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:.3in">“Nope, he had to skip his lunch break today, didn’t he tell you that?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:.3in">I shrugged and opened up the cabinet next to my head to grab a plate, stuffing one of the cookies in my mouth. “He’ll be home for dinner though, right?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:.3in">“I don’t know, he might be going out with his friends.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:.3in">“Again?” I nearly choked. That was the third night this week.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:.3in">“He’s been working hard, Mandy, and needs a time with his friends once in a while,” She reminded me.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:.3in">I frowned but remained silent, trying not to whine about my father spending so much time away from home, especially when before he was always around, which made the whole situation feel strange to me. I wasn’t going to complain, though, not when I had nothing to complain about- I did, after all, have a good home, good parents, and a good life. I reminded myself to think of the positive and ignore the negative, just as everybody was told to do ever since they were really little to solve problems. There was no reason to be unhappy, not in the land of Terces, and everybody knew it- no matter what.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:.3in">Instead I hopped back onto the floor and grabbed the sandwich supplies out of the fridge. Ham, mustard, lettuce, pickles and tomatoes, on rye bread with a side of chips and a glass of cherry soda. It was my favorite-which meant it was what I basically ate every single day.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:.3in"> I closed the fridge and took a small glance at the freezer in the special place where my mom always liked to hang little notes up for me, using the magnet that doubled as the picture of the both of us at the beach years ago at our annual family day trip in the city of Sea-salt Bay, long before my father’s job took control of his life.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:.3in">I looked a lot alike my mother in the picture- same golden hair, same tan skin and the same big grin. Our only differences were our eyes- Hers were blue, but I inherited my father’s green eyes.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:.3in">I was nine when the picture was taken, and eighteen now, but I could still remember the day the picture was taken. I had just gotten an ice cream, but dropped it, so my mother let me share hers, then my father decided to take a picture. I smiled and went back to making my sandwich, with happy thoughts in my head just as it should be.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:.3in">“Did you hear that Mr. Anderson disappeared yesterday?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:.3in">I stopped cold in the middle of making my sandwich and looked over at my mother, who didn’t look at me in return, and was instead focused on making her meal like she was a doctor operating on a patient. It worried me.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:.3in">“What?” Mr. Anderson was her boss, and the principal of the nearby middle school. It was surprising to hear her mention his disappearance- not because the situation itself was anything new, but because it wasn’t something someone usually brought up in conversation.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:.3in">And the way had she said it. It was too casual, in the same tone of voice that she would always use to tell me I was in trouble but she didn’t want to yell at me. Something was wrong. Had I done something, and was she just threatening me somehow? No, my mother didn’t threaten. If there was a problem, she usually just told me right out. At least I thought she did.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:.3in">“And his wife was just about to have a child, too. Imagine, having to leave a child before they even get to be born.” Her voice seemed to falter a little.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:.3in">“Mom…” I said warningly. “You know we aren’t supposed to talk about this sort of thing. It’s bad luck.” The last thing I wanted was something bad to happen. I couldn’t remember the last time something that bad ever did happen around here.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:.3in">“I just thought you should know.” My mom said with a shrug, then smiled and looked at me, saying, “That sandwich looks good.” As if the other conversation hadn’t happened.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:.3in">“Thanks,” I said awkwardly, still shaken up from before, and unsure how to respond.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:.3in">For a minute I stood, lingering in the kitchen with my finished sandwich, watching my mother making her own meal. Then I moved, numbly, and sat down at the little wooden table next to the open window to eat like I did on every other normal day, to get my mind off what had just happened. I told myself she was probably just worried about what would happen at the school now that the principal was missing, and his wife and future child. That had to be it. There was nothing wrong. I moved on from the topic, and let my mind wander.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:.3in">From where I sat I could see little kids playing outside in their yards, men mowing their lawns and ladies working in the garden. In the distance, the dark blue sea stretching endlessly into the horizon and heading towards the unknown. I liked to think about where it led, and if there was anything beyond. In truth, I didn’t know. Nobody did, because nobody ever went to explore beyond the sunset. But I liked to imagine nations, similar to mine, with people wondering the same thing I was- what was outside the borders?

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:.3in">I laughed. My father always used to say that by the way I thought about this, I was planning an escape. Of course I wasn’t, that would just be silly. Adventuring into the dangerous unknown was not worth sacrificing the peace and happiness of home.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:.3in">The more I thought about this the more I began to think about my family’s annual trip to the beach. I turned to my mom with a smile. “So, Mom, when are we going to the beach this year?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:.3in">But my mother had left the room.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:.3in">Sighing, I finished eating my sandwich and staring out the open window, lost in my thoughts, like always. I didn’t know that this was the last time I would see my mother in a while, and that our final conversation has been about a sandwich.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:.3in">'''So what'd you guys think? I'm open for suggestions/critiques/questions if anyone has them.'''