Chapter I: The Season of the Pikara
Pikara bounced down the street of the seaside town, which lay nestled at the foot of a mountain. She was worried. If she failed the Final Trial, then it meant having to waste another year in the smelly classroom of the guild.
As she headed down the slope, she realized the roads were empty, except for a few cars heading for the beach to avoid the midday traffic. Brick houses were worn from enduring the years of sweltering heat, followed by the freezing winter and torrents of rain.
Many cars had driven past the houses.
The father of a family of four drove through the labyrinth of houses. The children at the back seat looked at their front lawns, observing the gardens that the townsfolk had grown. Trees were tall and provided shelter. Flowers grew in the flower beds of the gardens. Their brightness was the reason it attracted the holiday makers’ attention. Only those whose eyes had not been tainted by the towering skyscrapers in the capital could truly appreciate their beauty. The car went past a location sign which indicated to the holiday makers that the main plaza was due north and the beach to the west.
The road soon became wider as the car reached the first intersection. As the lights turned yellow, the car slowed to a halt.
“Hey Mum, are we almost there?” The boy asked.
She was grabbing for her pair of sunglasses.
“We’re almost there, can’t you hold on?” A slight breeze swayed her hair as another car slowed down next to them. The cars on the left started moving.
“I need to go now!”
“We’ve run out of plastic bags,” she explained “and you’ve used up Molly’s potion bottles.”
Molly, the youngest in the family was the only one relaxed. Her father was leaning forward on his seat, his hands clutching the wheel tightly. The cars on the left had now stopped at the lights and a car on the right of the intersection edged closer towards the line. Looking through the wired fencing near the metal barriers of the road, she saw mansions perched on the hill side.
The town was once governed by a rich millionaire who was the mayor of this town. Tired of the corruption and greed of the business companies in the city, he decided to move into the seaside town some years ago. Ironically, he once did business with the companies. Whether he moved because he saw the error of his ways or to flee from the tension of competitive companies remained hidden.
In his time as mayor, machinery stripped the vegetation of the hills and replaced it with his very own garden, importing plants and trees from all corners of the continent.
Today, the gardens remained. A legacy left behind by the mayor. In the entrance way, large statues of a woman playing a harp were placed at regular interviews. They heralded the cobblestone path leading to a locked iron gate. Rust had covered over the white coating of the bars, and yet it hadn’t been repainted. This gate was only the first out of many which sealed the maze. A compass fountain stood at the centre, its arrow pointing away from the gate. At the base of the fountain, words were engraved:
"The sun is the gateway to the day and the night. The maidens stare at this gateway. Their melancholy expressions are the lock, even when the sun starts rising from the west. Only one shows the smile of the Sentinel.”
The shrubs of the maze were tall and thick. Because of this, the paths inside were narrow and had confined the few who treaded the maze. They twist and turn, showing no logic on which way to go.
Since the maze was located near the ocean, wind normally swept through the mazes’ corridors, through the open windows, brushing the curtains and traveled into the empty rooms of the mansions. The scent of the lilies wafted around its corridors, purging the muskiness of the furniture.
Back on the road, the cars at the intersection had stopped once more.
“Please Mum, I need to go! I don’t want to get my pants wet again.” The lights had turned green and the car continued driving for the town plaza. The boy’s cries of desperation became fainter and fainter for the mage detective who had eavesdropped on what they had said. As they drove past, a gust of wind was sent at her. The notebook on her lap was blown right open. The pages flickered, revealing notes and occasional doodles.
Holding her drink, she drew her lips on the straw and took another sip. A mixture of tiny crystals and an icy liquid traveled up the straw and into her mouth. As usual, the front of her teeth stung with pain. At least it’s better than having brown stained teeth, like her father had from smoking and drinking too much tea. By now, the crystals in her mouth had melted into liquid and the pain was gone. She swallowed the liquid and the roof of her mouth soon tingled with a chilling sensation. Withdrawing her lips from the straw, she placed it beside her. Her eyes remained closed, hidden by the brim of her beret.
Another gale from the ocean swept passed her. She drew a breath.
“More city folks seeking paradise in the many sea side towns available,” she thought, “bringing petrol fumes and little boys with pee- pee problems.” She smiled deviously.
She fished for her cell phone in the pockets of her mini skirt and started texting for her diary entry. Her thumb danced around the buttons.
Dear Diary, the silkiness of my pink hair was a sure sign the season of the Pikara was about to begin…or maybe that’s just me using too much of the hotels’ shampoos and conditioners. Today marks the end of the first half of summer and oh my Sentinels it’s hot! Commoners from the cities drive around in their big hunks of metal wanting to take a wee break by the seaside. As much as I love the water, the life of a mage detective was my choice. If it means not being able to join my guild friends during this year’s summer, then I guess it’s worth it for the right to discover the secrets of life and death. I never knew that the Final Trial was going to be this hard. I heard many stories that the Final Trial involved some kind of a twist or puzzle. They didn’t sound that hard to me, but this was just nonsense. Why must I seek a girl who has died in one of the most famous ship accidents ever? She’s dead and has lost, that’s good game to her…
Her eyes began to water, but she couldn’t cry. The warmth that the summer brought was like her mother’s hug, comforting all her worries away.
But what if I should fail?
She moved her thumb to the zero and pressed it a few times. The cursor flashing behind a pink background moved down a few lines, leaving space for a picture.
“Time to update my guild profile,” she whispered to herself and pressed on a button. The menu screen popped up and was selected on “send message.” She perched her nails at the top edge of the button and tilted it down like a control stick. It was selected on “delete” then “copy” until it moved down to “attachments.” Light passed through the camera lens in her cell phone and displayed on the screen, showing the fast food outlets across the road.
She turned the phone around so that the camera faced her. She moved it away form her so that it was a medium shot. With her free hand, she placed her fingers on the brim of the beret, looking as though she was lowering it to conceal her eyes. She smiled again, but this time, it showed her white pearl teeth. Her thumb was on the button and she pressed it. The shutters clicked and Pikara turned the phone around. The screen displayed a loading bar and the words, “Processing image.” When the bar was filled, her image appeared in full view. Nice big smile, cute purple eyes, what more could the guild officials want from a future mage detective? Maybe a bit too much, for the top button on her white blouse was undone, showing her bra.
“Just like the models, only cuter, insert image.”
Beneath the image, she texted in italics:
The season of the Pikara is about to begin. Love, Pikara
The text was saved.
The girl doesn't get a name right away and I think this is why parts are deemed "telling" instead of showing by some of my fellow reviewers.
