the long lands

This is the beginning of a book I want to write. Don't freak out if you read something and you have no idea what it means, because this is total fantasy. Most things are explained later in the story.

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In some people’s minds, it will suffice to say that no one ever really needs anything more than they were originally given. To take an unnecessary adventure is out of the question, and if you travel away from home you’re either mad, or you have a very strong addiction to foreign foods. Olive Tweed could be considered the author of this very philosophy. She wished for nothing more than her own feathered bed in her own comfy room. She was not a good person to give gifts to because she saw no point in giving or receiving them. She failed her world affairs class and defended herself by complaining that she neither cared nor ever would care about what a lot of turkey-stuffed, jewel-fingered monarchs decided to do to better suck peasants of their money. She was quite satisfied with what she had, and she wished nothing to change within her pleasant forest home.

Olive had been doing what she liked to do best, and that was sleeping, when she was interrupted by her brothers. There was a deafening bang on the door which yanked her to consciousness. She didn’t have to go on wondering what had caused it, because it was followed by a generous amount of unnaturally high-pitched, little boy screaming. She closed her eyes and inhaled, her logical self therapeutically reminding her annoyance that she loved her brothers. The screaming stopped and she covered her head with her sheets. The silence didn’t last; it never did. She flinched at another trilling squeal. Even a person such as Olive couldn’t doze off again under those circumstances. So she slid reluctantly out of bed feeling very much like a long stick of warm butter. She picked her usual tan, knee-length pants and casual forest fashion shirt that was pulled in at the waist. She glared at her puff-ball of hair in the mirror, but with just a few brushes, the short hair fell in a silky black veil that reached an inch above her shoulders.

When she stepped into the hallway, too many things met her at once. Too many things being two young boys, one whacking the other with a wooden spoon. The unfortunate one being whacked, the runt of the Tweed family, was Middley. Middley was the source of the screaming. Unfortunately, Olive was quite used to this ritual. She snatched the wooden spoon from Miko’s flailing hand as he ran past, and the older-but-no-more-mature boy jumped with his hands in the air to reach the spoon. Olive barely had to straighten her arm to keep it out of reach. She was a normal height for her age, but her younger brothers had yet to get to puberty. They were small, fiery, and barbaric.

Olive’s mother, distracted with breakfast, muttered a “thank you” when the spoon was returned. She seemed to be paying more attention than Olive thought because she joked, “Olive. You’re up early. It isn’t even near lunchtime.”

Olive gave nothing more than a sniff in reply. Another raspy scream/squeak issued from the hallway. Miko was resourceful when it came to weapons.

Olive decided that the best thing for her to do would be to down a bowl of the healthy mush her mom was stirring and leave the house. She was grateful for the long school break and intended to use her time as wisely as she knew how – she would do absolutely nothing.

She waited impatiently at the table as her mother managed to wrangle her brothers to breakfast. Her father must have already gone to work at the energy harvesting factory because it was just the four of them.

She spooned the unknown substance into her mouth as Middley complained, “Eeeew! It tastes like plants. Hey!” he shouted as Miko catapulted a spoonful onto his brother’s neck.

“Boys, quit it,” their mother cautioned. Miko gave an evil laugh that really communicated his reluctant discomfort. Olive heard it every time he was reprimanded.

“So what are you doing with your free days?” Olive’s mom asked in an attempt to channel their energy.

“I’m going to catch fish in the sea with Raulin,” Middley exclaimed proudly.

“I’m going to climb the cliffs with Kale and Ressin,” Miko stated matter-of-factly.

“No you’re not. Have Kale and Ressin’s parents heard about this?”

“Yes. They’re letting Kale and Ressin go. You’re the only one who doesn’t like it.”

Miko’s mother gave him a stern look which caused him to back down, but he still resolved to glare into his mush. “What about you, Olive?” she asked, turning to the 16-year-old.

Olive shrugged and replied, “Ash and I have a school project due after the break.”

“Of course. You’ll be with Ash. I should’ve known. Tell her parents about Kale’s little plan to scale the cliffs, all right?”

Olive nodded as she took her bowl to the sink. “Can I take the scint?” she asked.

“Mm-hm,” her mother answered.