Young Writers Society

Gramarye is a city full to the brim with secrets. Nestled in one of the hazy valleys of the Smoky Mountains, it stays hidden enough from the rest of the world to be a refuge for hillbillies and millionaires alike.

One of the secrets: Justin Fairchild was neither. He walked into town one day with nothing but the clothes on his back, and when he was done, he’d swept a millionaire’s heiress off her feet and turned her into a domestic. For a little while, at least—the heir to the Wethers’ lumber fortune soon left him with their baby girl to carry on alone. No one knows where Justin came from, but everyone is pretty sure he’s going to die in Gramarye just like everyone else.

Another secret: No one really ever leaves. There are two high schools in Gramarye: Alice Faye High on Salem Parkway, public, with state varsity teams that rarely get into playoffs; and Our Lady of Redemption on the back roads up the mountain, private and Catholic and segregated by gender. No one goes to Our Lady of Redemption. No one knows anyone who does. But cars pull in there every morning, and the Mother Superior is sometimes glimpsed buying vegetables at the farmer’s market in summertime.

The roads are winding, up hills, down mountains, through valleys full of life and over crests bared to the sky. Eagles nest there, in the trees; while full of evergreens, the woods are still a splendor in the fall, rich reds and oranges spotted with the vibrant green of persevering life. People walk and bike through Gramarye, using desire paths they barely remember from decades before. Only tourists drive.

And there are tourists. They come for the flower festivals held every March and September. They come for the waterfall that cracks down a man-made cliff towards the city hall and courthouse. They come for the park, a fenced in patch of grass on a hill with the best view of the fireworks in July. And they come for the fairy circles—Gramarye has the most recorded fairy circles in the United States. On any given day there are a hundred scattered in the park.

“It’s just the nitrogen from trees dying,” shrug scientists.

But some people in Gramarye know it’s something more—it’s why they don’t give their names to strangers, and they always hide their emotions behind a blank slate of a smile. They don’t let their children out on solstices or equinoxes, and always keep them in arm’s reach for fear they’ll be snatched away into the Low Road—and into the Other. These people go to church on Sunday and sing their hymns, and they don’t tell their neighbors about their fears.

You never know who could be one of the Other folk.

Notable families:

Fairchild—Justin and Zelda; newcomers to town with a mysterious heritage. Justin owns Fairchild Flowers on 9th and Main, where Zelda spends most of her time after school, when she’s not goofing off at the Quikway. They live in Tansy Lane Apartments, directly below Kaycee Masters.

Key—Harrison, Sara, and Scott; an old and well-known family in Gramarye, the Keys have lived there for a hundred years or more. Harrison is a political representative of the county, and has high expectations for his son, who takes joy in dashing all of them to pieces. Sara hosts garden parties and is Justin Fairchild’s most valuable customer, as she organizes the flower parades every six months. Scott is a goth teenager with a sensitivity to sunlight who carries a black umbrella with him everywhere he goes.

Grey—Julissa, Wendrick, Jupiter, and Jovian; an odd family that keeps their secrets, living alone on the dead-end road by the Quikway. Julissa is perhaps the most secretive of all; no one knows exactly what she does for a living, except her clients. Wendrick is ‘Mr. Grey’, a teacher at Salem Oaks Elementary. Jupiter rides the same bus as Scott and Zelda, going to Alice Faye High over in Salem, but she’s not exactly the talkative sort. Jovian is even less talkative, if that’s possible—he just stares at people like he knows their every secret. The whole family is damn weird, but they don’t seem to mind.

Masters—Kassia Claire, Fiona, and Dax. Kaycee is one of Justin’s few employees, a good worker with a great attitude and fantastic customer service. At home, she’s a single mother struggling to live on her own, who rents out her spare bedroom to her sister. Fiona is Harrison Key’s personal assistant, fetching his coffee, taking his calls, and keeping tabs on his son at every hour of the day. Dax is four—and damn cute—and Zelda Fairchild makes a quick buck babysitting him during the summer while Kaycee and Fiona are working.

The Quikway:

Apartment 108:

The Grey House:

The Park:

Faer Quartet:
The Autumn Door (zelda fairchild)
The Winter Way (jovian & rivence grey)
The Spring Tide (jupiter grey)
The Summer's End (zelda fairchild)

Name: Zelda Elizabeth Fairchild.
Age: 17.
Gender/Sex: Cis female.
Eye Color: Murky hazel.
Hair Color: Dirty blonde—not that you can tell it with the remnants of the semi-permanent dye still washing out. She dyes her hair a different color every month; for the month of June after her junior year, it's a faded copper.
Skin Color: Pale but not translucent; she spends enough time in the sun that her skin is covered in all sorts of freckles.
Height: A stocky and well-built 5'4.
Weight: She weighs about 150lbs, but it fluctuates week-by-week based on her eating habits. Some of it's muscle from her years of running track and field; some of it's baby fat she never got around to losing.
Memorable Features: The deep black circles under her eyes; on days she does her makeup, they're disguised by thick eyeliner and eye shadow, but otherwise she looks tired and hollow all the time. No one asks questions when she falls asleep in class.
Race: Half-faer; a "faerchild."
Ethnicity: White American in a small Midwest town comprised of, majority, white Americans.
Faults:
Talents:
Family:
Childhood:
Source of Income:
Hobbies:
Patience Breaking Point:
Status in Society:
Biography:

Name: Jupiter Grey.
Age: 16.
Gender/Sex: Cis female.
Eye Color:
Hair Color:
Skin Color:
Height: A beanpole at 5'11.
Weight: About 150lbs, but she wears it differently than Zelda; she's more stretched and spread out.
Memorable Features:
Race: Human witch.
Ethnicity: Biracial (Black/Latina (Puerto Rican)) American in a town full of majority white Americans.
Faults:
Talents:
Family:
Childhood:
Source of Income:
Hobbies:
Patience Breaking Point:
Status in Society:
Biography:

Name: Caidred Skifter.
Age: ???
Gender/Sex: It depends. For most of the book, seemingly male.
Eye Color:
Hair Color:
Skin Color:
Height:
Weight:
Memorable Features:
Race: Faerfolk.
Ethnicity:
Faults:
Talents:
Family:
Childhood:
Source of Income:
Hobbies:
Patience Breaking Point:
Status in Society:
Biography:

ZELDA: 5’4. Stocky. Well-built.
Eyes: Hazel-green. Hair: dyed; faded copper; growing out from shaved.
Runs track and field. Has dark circles under her eyes. Rarely sleeps, and never sleeps well.
Sticks to a T-shirt and shorts as her outfit of choice.
Unseelie Wake.

SCOTT: 5’9. Rail-thin. Unhealthy.
Eyes: brown. Hair: also brown; shoulder-length.
Carries a black umbrella everywhere. Has dark circles under his eyes. Does his makeup every day.
A black duster is his favorite accessory to black shirt and black jeans.
Human as hell.

JUPITER: 5’11. Beanpole. Expert hider and seeker.
Eyes: gray. Name: Grey. Hair: dark brown; worn natural.
Runs track and field. Freckled to hell. Less ‘keeps to herself’, more ‘just plain doesn’t talk to people.’
Never seen in public in anything less than a turtleneck.
More human than some.

JUSTIN: 5’7. Victim of society. Wears heels.
Eyes: Hazel-orange. Hair: platinum blond; kept long.
Tattooed everywhere a needle can reach. Everything is flowers. Even his clothes are flowers.
Would die and be reincarnated as a flower if he could.
Horned Hunt, defected to Unseelie Wake; defected again to humanity.

NERISSA: 5’7. Lover of society. Wears heels.
Eyes: bright gold. Hair: platinum blonde; waist-length and barely curled.
Wears black to match her heart. Every hair in its place. Slim but not bony.
Definitely possibly evil at first glance.
Horned Hunt, defected to Unseelie Wake; clawed her way to the top.

CAIDRED: 5’8. Average as they come. Pretty muscular, though.
Eyes: maple-leaf red. Hair: actual maple leaves; sometimes hair; shoulder length.
Dead ringer for a tree standing still. Pretty when not smiling. Obligate carnivore.
One foot in the grave, the other in the closet.
Unseelie Wake; pretends to be Harvest Folk.

MOTHWYN: 6’2. Fit and curvy. Gorgeous in a gown.
Eyes: summer-sky blue. Hair: sunset-red; floor-length, braided.
Could definitely throw you out a window. Pretty when smiling. Has too many teeth.
Possibly definitely evil at second glance.
Harvest Folk; High Queen, if you listen to her.

LYOTH: 4’9. Tiny yet dangerous. Skinny as a twig.
Eyes: void-black; too big. Hair: blood-red; pulled back over black curved horns.
Keeps her mouth shut for a reason. Looks like you can break her. She can break you.
Only tells the truth, unless she’s lying about that, too.
Horned Hunt.

LIOLLACH: 5’11. Drama queen; brooding prince.
Eyes: purple as night. Hair: moon-silver streaked with gold; short.
Copper antlers. Too dainty to throw you out a window. Might push you down the stairs.
Wouldn’t do anything to ruffle his clothes.
Harvest Folk.

KARMA: 5’3. The Mom Friend.™ Looks younger than she is.
Eyes: brown. Hair: almost black; worn in ponytails.
Should be out somewhere jogging. Loves dogs. Everything is fine.
Dresses more professionally than everyone else combined.
Still human, somehow.

Nerissa was born and bred in storms and the dead of night. It was then that she thrived, like the ghost of some long-dead witch, and came around to haunt the living—it was then that she shook her brother by the shoulder and tore him from his dreams. “Iustus,” she whispered. “Iustus, wake up.”

He grumbled something and turned away from her. His room was smaller than hers, but had a window out to the sea. A flash of lightning woke him; a rumble of thunder rolled him out of bed. “What?” he demanded of her and the storm. “Can’t it wait ‘til morning?”

She shook her head. “I think I found it.”

“You—” Iustinian nearly shouted, but hushed himself just in time. “You did?” he whispered.

“I think. Quick, follow me.” Nerissa threw a set of dark blue clothes at him. She barely waited for him to dress before she was out in the hall, her blood bubbling with the thrill of danger and discovery.

If the Vulture King caught them awake at this hour, he’d have them executed out of paranoia. Every day was another execution—this one was carrying a sword; this one was whispering; this one grew poisons in her garden to feed to me. But with his guards crawling the Wake like fire ants during the day, night was the only time they could move freely.

Iustinian joined her, pulling a dark cap over his hair. “Where—”

Nerissa cut him off with a shake of her head. Not now, she told him with a glance towards the end of the hall. Some of the more trusted guards were given night duty. Some of them, no doubt, had a good sense of hearing. She toyed with a long strand of hair, blonde turned black with charcoal dust for nighttime expeditions. It was a clumsy disguise. A stray lightning bolt would give them away.

“The storm,” she murmured to herself in the darkness, “will move north. So it will be.” And she believed it—enough that the wind pulled energy from her to push the clouds away from the Wake. It would take time, but it would move.

There was a little-known corridor that led from the heart of the castle to what had once been servants’ quarters. Nerissa laughed at the idea of faerfolk needing servants; since the world woke to them, it had been theirs to manipulate. In the overgrown halls of the Hunt, the small folk, mice and birds, did the cleaning. In the Wake, it was simply done, by no mortal hand but the words of the Vulture King’s courtiers themselves.

So it will be.

The Wake was not for the faint of heart or weak of conviction.