Young Writers Society

Thin lines of white, hazy on the edges cut through the sea of blue. The scent of a beautiful perfume lingered on the air, it waved for a moment before fading completely. The white lines dulled for a moment so only blue washed the surface. A sound began to shake the air, a soft voice.

“Where’s my little son?” It sang gentle, sounding distant and far. The light burst through the image again, the lines appearing across the blue walls. There was a window standing nearby, the sunlight burning through the blinds so when the sun shone through, lines of light were projected in the room. A woman moved into view, dressed in a snowy white night dress. Her hair was brown, piled on her head in a white clasp. She moved her head and smiled, her eyes twinkling as she neared.

“There he is!” She exclaimed, long arms reaching forwards. The sensation of being lifted took over and the image shifted to the woman’s face. She was very beautiful, with bright green eyes that seemed to teem with life. A second person appeared, his broad face beaming with happiness. He had a tanned face with large brown eyes. He stood beside the woman and kissed her cheek delicately.

“My darling,” he murmured softly. The woman shared a loving look with her husband before he reached forwards and took the baby from her arms. The image moved to his face, which was grinning happily.

“Say hello to dada!” he said, his breath warm against the baby’s cheeks. A gurgling laugh hiccoughed from the little baby boy. There was a disturbance near the window, the light faded for a moment then appeared again. The man’s look of delight changed to one of dismay. His eyes sought for his wife, who was staring out the window; unaware of his look. He strode towards her and pressed their son in her arms. She looked down at the boy, then back at her husband questioningly.

“Please Sebastian, it’s probably nothing,” she whispered, sounding anxious. He scowled, looking out the door and down the corridor. There was a loud crash which startled the baby. The man stared at his wife, a look of fear.

“Stay here with Cyan,” he implored, then disappeared through the door. The baby let out a little whine, so the mum cuddled him closer to her breast. She let of a sob of worry, before nearing towards the wall. At once, there was a second crash and a yell. The woman sobbed again nearing towards the door…but the image faded to black. A sound ripped through the darkness, a terrified scream.

Blinding white light hit Alex hard in the face as he surfaced from his dream. He gasped in a breath, cold air sucked into his lungs. His heart was racing as if he had been running for hours. Sweat clung to his body, but the air was still and cool. He sat up, the white sheets falling off him. Alex half expected to see the blue walls with the striped pattern reflected from the sun peering through the gaps of the blinds. Instead the white walls and stone floors of his own room greeted him.

He sighed deeply, taking in the room around him. It was a square room, most of it was empty space. There was his four-poster bed, which sat at one side, a desk on another side with a computer and two doors each with their own sides. The glass ceiling was curved and slanted as it was part of the glass dome of the top of the house. The sun burst through the frosted glass, lighting the room with dazzling white light.

It was home for Alex, but not the one he dreamt of nearly every night. He put his head in his hands, rubbed his eyes. For as long as he could remember, Alex had the same recurring dream. He figured out a while ago that it was his earliest memory. But over the years, it became less like the reality. The baby, Alex knew, was him. The parents of the baby, however, weren’t his parents or the ones he knew and lived with.

Alex jolted upright, staring into space. There was no time for thinking. He moved at once off his bed. Hoping he wasn’t late, Alex hurried to his built-in wardrobe. Everyday, Alex went into work with his father. At fifteen, it was up to Alex to train for his future career. The same career, as it happened, with his father had. Alex scowled at the thought, as he always did, as he got dressed for the day. Alex’s normal clothes weren’t the casual jeans and shirt donned by other teenaged boys. He dressed in a neat suit, appearances were very important to Alex and his father. They worked along side the most powerful people on the World.

Alex and his father worked in the Palace of Parliament. One reason why Alex was unlike any kid in the city was because he was going to be a minister. He was going to be one of the men who ruled the country. But the thing was that Alex didn’t want to be a minister at all.

As he made his way through the massive house which he lived in, he dwelled on the things that made him not want to be a minister of New London. For one thing, he disliked politics. Everyday he had to endure the lengthy chats at the Palace that never made sense. Over time, Alex realised that the country was run by a bunch of adults who never seemed to make decisions.

Another reason why he didn’t want to be a minister was because all the ones he had met were horrid, power-crazed men. Including his own father. Alex knew that he would end up like his father, a cold, clean-cut millionaire. Something which his heart wasn’t set on, as his father was not the best role model for a son.

Lastly, Alex felt that he didn’t belong in the world of politics and power. He was too compassionate, as his mother and father liked to point out. People in Parliament were deliberate and rational, stone-hearted at times. They had to make hard decisions such as executions and exiles. They were in control of the country, which was growing darker and crueller everyday.

The problem was that a boy in Alex’s position couldn’t afford to hate the government. He was being watched like everyone else in New London. He had no choice. If his family wanted him to be a minister, then he was going to be one. There was no reason to think about it. A person like Alex was used to having other people making the decisions for him. It was, as he had heard before, the burden of a rich son.

He burst through the kitchen doors, heading straight for the fridge. His mother sat at the breakfast bar, hidden behind the newspaper. Alex ignored her, as always, and helped himself to the food inside the fridge. Half-way through making his breakfast, his mother put the newspaper down and decided to stare at her son.

Alex moved to the breakfast bar, plate laden with toast and honey. He froze when he saw that he was under the gaze of his mother. Alarms went off in his head as he registered this odd behaviour. Normally he ignored her and she ignored him, until saying goodbye as he left for the Palace. He put his plate down, moving again to sit down. His mother’s hard eyes were still set on him. He sighed and shoved a piece of toast in his mouth to prevent him from speaking.

“Someone called for you,” his mother suddenly said, surprising Alex. He swallowed a half-chewed piece of toast, frowning as it stuck in his throat. He grabbed his glass of milk, trying to push the food down. Once he was free of toast, he gave his mother a puzzled look.

“Why didn’t you pass the call upstairs to me?” he asked her, as this was the usual way things were done. Normally Alex was woken up by a friend, asking if he was free. The fact that his mother’s face was harder and colder than ever made Alex realise that she wasn’t in the mood for questions.

“They weren’t the type of people I expect the son of a minister to be in contact with,” she hissed, sounding angry for some reason. Alex bit into his toast, feeling dread rise bitterly. He knew this cryptic way of communicating well. It was a way his mother used to wheedle information out of him. The thing was that Alex had no idea what she was so angry about. He didn’t know who rang, so why was she expecting him to.

“Did you tell them to ring back?” Alex asked, a little fed up. His mother’s nostrils flared; a sign of danger. Alex frowned, pursing his lips at the same time. “Or are you actually going to tell me who rang and how it’s my entire fault.” He added, knowing that he had basically trampled all over the line which he should never even toe.

“This is no joke, Alexander-,”

“I didn’t joke,” Alex interupted, incredulously, “Blimey mother, why can’t you just get to the point?” His mother stood up, eyes ablaze with fury. Alex was so used to this behaviour, one reason why he ignored her in the mornings. It was only bad when his father joined it, because that meant he had to run…and quickly.

“For your information, the call came from Green Region,” she said, in overly controlled tones. “It was a girl.” This time Alex laughed for real. She really was ridiculous.

“Oh for goodness sake, you actually think that I have a girlfriend from Green Region.” Alex said, smiling. “You think I’m stupid, I know perfectly well that you choose my girlfriends. Just like how you choose everything else in my life.” The smile was gone, replaced with a bubbling of anger. His mother glared at him for a few moments, then sat down. Just at that precise moment, the kitchen door opened.

“Is there a problem?” Alex went completely cold, as he looked over to see his father looking in with a livid expression. This was never a good thing. Alex looked at his mother, who wore an ugly grin.

“I had a call earlier, Edward. A girl from Green region wanted to speak with Alex…Edward?” Alex was surprised to see a look of fear flash across his father’s face. His mother was looking at her husband in concern. Then, as if nothing had happened, his father walked inside the kitchen, smiling. Alex shoved more toast in his mouth.

Something about this phone call had disturbed the cool presence of his father. As Alex watched his father with narrowed eyes, he noticed small differences in the way he held himself. There was a definite impatience. How he poured out too many cornflakes, some falling to the floor so unlike how he normally makes sure that there is a sensible amount in his bowl. When he sat at the breakfast bar, his gaze was averted downwards. Alex watched carefully, curious about this behaviour. He knew that he was going to find out who phoned and why, against his parents wishes.

The rest of the morning passed unceremoniously. Alex left to shower, knowing that his parents would discuss the matters which had him curious. Standing in the small capsule of the shower, Alex thought intensely about what he was going to do to find out who the caller was. Warm torrents of water crashed down on his face. Slowly the corners of his mouth twitched upwards as he devised a plan.

He stepped out of the shower, steam pouring out into the cool bathroom. He grabbed the nearest towel and dried off quickly. He got dressed again, gazed into the fogged glass of the mirrors opposite him. One wall of the bathroom was made entirely of mirrors. Alex reached forwards and wiped a circle clean. He gave his reflection a disdainful look, then pulled on his tie.

Brown haired and green eyed, Alex looked nothing like his parents. He knew it, of course, they did as well. His mother was fair-haired, his father was black-haired. Both had dark-brown eyes, empty and devoid of humour.

Alex stared at his appearance again before leaving the room. What got him was why his parents didn’t admit to him that he was adopted? Maybe they thought he wasn’t ready. Or perhaps they knew he sussed it out for himself, so they was no reason to tell him something he already knew.

Barging out the bathroom, Alex headed down to the front of the large house where his father would be waiting. As he reached the front hall, his father was indeed waiting, but not alone. A bald man stood beside him so tall that he towered over Alex’s father. With them was his daughter, a slim girl with long, black hair. She caught sight of Alex and smiled. Alex hurried to them, confused by their appearance.

“Good morning Mr Carter,” he greeted as he skidded to his father’s side. His eyes fell on the girl again. “Hi Vanessa,” He added, feeling a smile pop up again. Vanessa Carter was, like Alex, being trained to be a minister. But their strongest similarity was how they both didn’t want to be one. Vanessa cherished an ambition to be an actress. Alex knew that she could be. She was, after all, amazingly beautiful. It would all be wasted if she became what her father wanted her to become.

“Alex,” she replied, nodding. Her eyes flittered up to her father briefly. “Shall we leave these men to their chat?” Alex ignored his own father completely and nodded. Vanessa grinned and opened the front door. Alex followed without a word as he knew that his father hated him leaving the house. They walked down the huge marble steps and out onto the grass of the garden.

Vanessa led Alex around the side of the house where the trees grew beside the stream. The sound of running water punctured the on-going sound of the traffic. Alex followed Vanessa under the shade of the trees, frowning in curiosity. She jogged to the stone platform that stood beside the stream. It was where she and Alex used to sit when they were kids, trying to hide from their parents.

She clambered onto the stone, fixing Alex with a mischievous gaze. Alex hopped on beside her, looking down at the water that ran beneath them. The pebbles of the stream were too even and too well cleaned. It was a good imitation of nature, but nothing like it.

“Alex?”

“Hmm?” Alex glanced at Vanessa, seeing that she was staring at the stream as he had been. She looked around and met his gaze. As normal, Alex felt a fluttering in his mind as he marvelled at her beauty.

“I have a favour to ask of you,” she said quietly. Alex could only just hear her over the sound of the stream. She pulled out something from the inside of her suit jacket. Alex watched with a frown. She held out a palm-pilot, small enough to just fit snug in her palm. Alex took it from her hand, rolling it around in his hands.

“It’s broken,” he said after examining it. Vanessa smiled as he looked up to met her gaze again. Alex understood. She wanted him to fix the palm-pilot. Closing his eyes, Alex focused on the metal and plastic object. Vanessa watched, holding her breath, as Alex probed the electronic device with his mind. After a few moments, Alex opened his eyes. Vanessa let out her breath in surprise, seeing the screen of the palm-pilot on. Alex held it out for her and she took it from his hands, it was still warm.

“Some of the files inside that are over twenty years old,” Alex told her, frowning in thought. Vanessa sighed, turning off the palm-pilot and pocketing it.

“It belonged to my mother,” Vanessa replied, sounding sad suddenly. “I found it locked away in the loft, broken. I thought it would give me some clues to my mother, see what she was really like.” Alex raised his eyebrows at this, wondering what information the little palm-pilot held. He had been sure that the files he glimpsed were old, but they were also confidential. He recongised the codes locking them, they were similar to the codes inside his father’s computer.

“Make sure your father doesn’t find it,” Alex warned, thinking about the price of holding confidential material. Vanessa glanced up at him in surprise.

“He won’t,” she confirmed, then she gave him a calculating look. “Just like your father won’t find out about your talent.” Alex nodded, feeling strangely worried. Alex knew that his ‘talent’ was not normal. The ability to hack into electronics with his mind was definitely odd. Vanessa was the only person who knew he could do it. He hoped that it would remain that way.

“Anyway, we better get back,” Alex said, hoping that they weren’t late. “My father will be worried…about his spotless reputation for being on time.”