Young Writers Society

Yes, it is my name. It means “Year” in the speech of long ages; others might have it, or Anna, or Ala. I seem to be the only one with the name “Anye,” though. I wish I could understand the connection, to find another like myself.

I try to reach out and grasp a book by its spine, but my fingers slip through. Am I a ghost, or is the book spiritual?

With a sigh, my head comes up. I scan the room: tapestries, curtains, woven rugs. It seems a good place to rest, so I lie down on the cool floor.

“My lord?” Cedric’s voice draws me from my dark thoughts. “My lord, are you ill?”

I shiver, pulling the sheets around me. The dream departs, and I find myself sitting up on hard stone.

“Perhaps we should call a physician,” Cedric suggests.

“No, sir,” I say. “I am all right, merely tired.”

His eyebrows go up in a way I’ve always found funny. “Anye, prince of the Realm of Altanis, is ‘merely tired’? What has my lord been doing of a night?”

I keep my calm as I say, “Nothing to do with maidens, I assure you.”

He nods his graying head. I’ve always respected him for his silence.

A few notes:

1. "Altanis" is a slight spelling shift from "Atlantis," and it is a seaside kingdom.

2. The setting first came to mind when I was writing "Sealsong," which I may or may not

be able to find.