Young Writers Society

~1100 words

(This is the ending for the last chapter, since I know it ended badly)

“My turn again,” said Nikki.

“Why are you the one who gets to ask all the questions?” asked Ivy.

Nikki snorted then mocked playfully, “Oh you’ve asked plenty. He just answers yours without a fuss, don’t you loverboy?”

Ivy thought she could see Grey redden beneath the layer of grime on his face. She could feel her own face heating, so she was glad Grey suddenly couldn’t look her in the eyes.

Mercifully for all involved, Nikki plunged ahead. “My question is, how in the world can Mr. Thornton own a place like this?”

“Well,” Grey said, that first word coming out like a relieved sigh as if he’d been holding his breath, “I’ve never asked him. We’ve always lived like we were poor except in regards to the machines. Alder sends me to go dicker over the cheapest food I can find on the weekends. I guess I’ve always assumed one of two things. Number one: he’s actually fabulously wealthy and his eccentricity causes him to live like he’s poor, or maybe he ran out of money long ago. Number two: no one knew about this giant space under the city, or no one wanted it. It is right next to the sewers, after all.”

“I wonder what it is,” Ivy mused.

“I suppose it could be both,” admitted Grey. “Just stumbled into the sewers and also happens to actually be fabulously rich. I always assumed he had some sort of money. Otherwise he wouldn’t have taken on an official apprentice. But I can’t imagine the kind of money it would take to buy this size of place if it were for sale.”

Ivy again took in the huge size of the room. “Yeah. It’s almost like he owns the half of the city no one knows about.”

(still a little bit of a weak ending, but what can you do?)

--

(official beginning of) Chapter 7

Grey

Grey explained briefly to Nikki where the parts were, how to turn on the machines, and what exactly he wanted (flat swaths of iron with holes drilled along the sides. They always needed more metal panels), and she quickly set to work. It looked like she really did know her stuff. He watched her for a few moments to be sure she knew her stuff before turning to Ivy. She looked bored, still sitting at the table, flipping a washer between her fingers.

“You can help me today, and I’ll teach you along the way,” he said.

Ivy nodded and stood, stretching a bit. “What are we going to be doing?”

“Working on Alder’s obsession. ‘The Machine to Cull the Darkness’ or whatever he calls it.” Grey rolled his eyes. “I don’t understand it at all. And I like to think I have a way with machines. Its over here.” He led Ivy toward what was obviously the epicenter of the workshop. Whereas most of the machines along the edges of the workshop were covered in a thick layer of dust, the middle of the workshop was constantly in motion, projects actively being worked on ended up there, along with all the tools, parts, scraps, and snacks used along the way. In a way. The workshop was a hurricane, with the most clutter in the center.

Except for The Machine. The Big Project. For safety reasons, anything not being actively used was to remain a respectful distance away from the behemoth. It was easily the largest machine in the workshop, despite it being less than halfway finished, according to Alder’s blueprints.

“So what does this do?” asked Ivy. She was staring up at the burnished-black metal sides.

“From what I can gather, it’s supposed to trap something in. I guess Alder thinks he can just… confine darkness? Most of the time when he spouts about that “inevitable doom” I like to imagine it metaphorically. Like some sort of corruption slowly grasping hold of our government or something normal like that. But when I work on this machine, I realize that he think’s it’s physical. A physical darkness of some kind that you can trap.”

“Trapping darkness?” Ivy sounded dubious.

“Yeah, I get it. Or rather, I don’t. That’s the whole point. But I’m not here to question Alder. I’m just here to learn the trade and do what he says. And this,” Grey brandished rolled up blueprints, “is what he says.”

-

They spend the next several hours working. Nikki sang while she worked. She had a nice, hearty singing voice, when you could hear her over the screaming metal she was drilling. Grey had Ivy fetch him tools scattered around the workstation, teaching her what they were called, what they did, and how to use them safely. He let her try out some of the less dangerous tools. He couldn’t help but notice how ill-fitting her hands seemed to be for this large metalwork. They were a florist’s hands, yes, and a writer’s and a painter’s. Maybe even a pianists. But they were also the hands of someone who could, if given enough training, create clever and curious gadgets like he did. Fingers that were nimble and quick, artful and cunning.

Suddenly Grey realized Ivy was looking at him expectantly, and silence had filled the workshop.

“What?’’ he asked.

Ivy’s voice called from her work table, “I said, how long are we doing this for? I’m getting tired. I worked all day you know?”

“Oh,” he said off-handedly. “We can stop. I made some sandwiches earlier. I put them in the coldbox. Go sit down. I’ll be right there.”

Ivy and Nikki walked back toward the table together, talking, as Grey walked the other direction, toward the coldbox. His ears automatically strained to listen to what they were saying, but the echoes just bounced around, producing an unintelligible murmur.

“So do you just call everything something-box around here?” asked Nikki after Grey had plopped the paper-wrapped sandwiches on the table. “First it was Lightbox, now it’s the coldbox?”

“We just give things names that make sense.” Grey shrugged and sat down. “The lightbox is a box with a light, and the coldbox is an iceless icebox.”

“Still feels like a lack of imagination,” Nikki said. She unwrapped her sandwich and took a enthusiastic bite. She chewed a bit before her face twisted in disgust. “Ugh. Is this tuna?”

“Yeah,” said Grey.

“It tastes like garbage!”

“What do you expect from the cheapest food I can find?”

“Some garbage-tasting chicken at least,” said Ivy with a grin.