Young Writers Society

Chapter One

EVER SINCE THE MOMENT THE GODS CAME DOWN TO EARTH, Mason Lewis, at age nine, had learned to despise his life for all it was worth. The major problem was the gods. The rest he could ignore if he tried hard enough, but the gods... They were typically difficult to not notice, contrary to minor beliefs. The gods, to begin with, were just stupid. They weren't some big, glowing buff dudes in white cloaks, or bearded, muscular men in armors and a cloud of blood and power. In fact, the gods completely butchered and stomped and spat on Mason's childhood dreams by being twelve massive, hairy animals with bizarre colorings.

About a year after the twelve, massive, hairy animals floated down from the sky, the world changed, shifting so it would fit a world with animal, real, physical gods more. The only thing that influenced Mason's life directly was the change in flags all over the world -they had animals on them now- and having to memorize twelve hairy animals, all in order. Everybody told him that it was almost the most important thing in life; if it wasn't, well, too bad, we're going to change that. The order of the animal gods were stupid and meaningless and hard to memorize. First, the mouse, then after that, in order; cow, tiger, rabbit, dragon, snake, horse, lamb, monkey, rooster, dog, then for last, the pig. Apparently, the order had been set by a race of some sort, announced by God with the capital G, and a mouse had been in the first place.

Yet, the fact that twelve stupid animal gods had been able to completely butcher, then stomp on, then spit on, then burn Mason's childhood was crushing. The gods had burned his childhood to ashes by showing him that a dragon wasn't actually a dragon he'd always imagined before the doomsday of age nine. It did have scales when it descended from the sky... But that was where Mason's imaginations parted ways with the cruel truth of the world.

For God's -with the capital G- sake, the actual dragon god was a giant blue worm.

Perhaps a worm was not the most precise description of the dragon god, but it was the best word choice that Mason had for the giant blue worm, considering the amount of respect he held for the worm god. What his imagination had been before age nine was that dragons were huge, majestic creatures that walked on four feet and had long-spanning, glittering bat-like wings, and a pair of curving ivory horns on the top of its head. The worm god didn't have ninety-nine point nine repeating percent of all the mentioned traits. It had deep, ocean-like blue scales that reflected the sunlight sharply, a long, worm-like body, four feet that made the worm god look like it was a descendant of a T-Rex; silver, long claws, a head that completed the definition of 'Weirdness in its entirety' by having two silver deer antlers and a pair of silver whiskers; also two narrow eyes that looked like molten lava. When it had first roared, the god showed its sharp, white fangs that reflected the sunlight perfectly and made Mason wince, thinking that a bite from that would hurt. The very ground had trembled with the sound. The white mane that started from in-between the two deer antlers and ran all the way down to the tip of the tail had swayed in the wind, creating a fine imagery.

As a short version, the worm god that was actually the dragon god, looked like a disappointing, hairy hybrid of a snake/worm/deer/catfish/horse/crocodile. Even the somehow-more-hairy dog god looked better than the huge blue catfish worm.

In the present time, at age fourteen, Mason still hated his life, couldn't quite remember the order in which the twelve hairy gods went in, and thought that the worm god looked like a stupid mix between six animals. It actually didn't help that his mom wanted him to become one of the Anima Patrons. It sure sounded fancy, but Mason knew what it really was; a group of special people who were lucky enough to have been chosen by a god when they were fourteen and got a portion of their powers. At first, Mason had thought that the powers would be something stupid, too; things like using a newly-gained tail for picking up backpacks, running extra fast with your back legs looking like a rabbit's, being able to swallow larger people whole if they annoyed you, coughing up hairballs, and more truckloads of hairy things. But now, he knew what they were, and because they were actually kind of cool, his mom’s rantings about the Anima Patrons didn’t bother him as much.

The kids who got chosen by the mouse god could blend into their surroundings and hide extremely well. The shadows, air, a wall, inside the ocean - the mouse kids could hide anywhere and nobody would ever be able to find them. Despite the awesome ability, Mason didn't want something that looked like a slightly better version of a sewer rat to choose him.

The Anima Patrons who the cow god chose could lift heavy things. Not like gym weight-lifting; buildings, boulders, buses, cows, and so on. They also hated the mouse kids. According to a story, in the race that had determined the gods' orders, the mouse god had cheated by riding on the cow god’s head then jumping down before the cow god crossed the finish line.

The chosen ones of the blue worm were the strongest, followed by the tiger god Patrons. The Anima Patrons of the worm controlled water and air, which were probably the reason why there were only three of them. But one didn't count, as she was in a deep coma that could very well lead to an eternal coma. The other two were siblings, both guys. Mason had heard that the older one's personalty was completely messed up, and the younger one worked as a restraining rope. Them three all had streaks of white hair like they were in their seventies, a bluish skin, and intense silver eyes. Unlike the other Anima Patrons, their physical appearances were altered by the god's choice. Mason had seen them move lakes, stop floods, prevent an airplane from crashing, and put out massive forest fires. He had to admit, that was kind of cool - even to a level of extremely cool, and he did envy those people who could control two powerful elements of nature. Still, he didn't like the blue catfish worm; he would rather be chosen by an actual worm god.

The tiger Patrons had control over fire. They were immune to burns; they could walk into a burning forest and walk out just fine after an hour. They could create fire and have it do whatever they wanted; which meant that they could compress fire into a small ball, make someone swallow it and the person would burst into flames - which, Mason had to admit, was scary. The tiger Patrons tended to stay clear of the blue catfish worm Patrons, because, Mason presumed, they were of opposite elements.

Other Patrons, Mason could faintly remember. The chicken kids could jump from skyscrapers and land without a scratch, and burst eardrums and rocks with high-pitched yells that you couldn't actually hear. The snake Patrons could make big things small - sixty-storey buildings into things like lego blocks, humans into doll-sized dwarves. Mason imagine that the power came from a snake being able to swallow things larger than its head, but it was still hard to make the connection. The only catch to the power was that once turned small, the thing would stay small. So, if you, even if by accident, shrunk your house... Oops, you would have to find a new house and try not to shrink it next time. A rabbit Patron could run faster than a bullet and jump across the Grand Canyon. A rabbit Patron had once proved it in front of the world.

There was one Patron group that was unique; the dog Patrons. They didn't have any specific powers. One boy of fifteen had jumped into a burning house to save his girlfriend and had somehow extinguished the fire with a yell of desperation. He hadn't been a tiger Patron; he was a dog Patron. Another time, a dog Patron had held up a building that was about to fall right on top of her little brother. Later, it was proved that the dog Patrons didn't have as much strength as a cow Patron. Much later, it was revealed by the dog god itself that its Patrons' power was loyalty and love. It wasn't too complicated; if you were jumping into a dangerous situation, out of pure loyalty or love or both, you would be able to perform exactly one miracle, like putting out massive fires and lifting up buildings.

Mason thought that being a tiger Patron or a snake Patron would be cool enough. If it wasn't the blue catfish worm or the sewer rat's better version, he would be fine with it - if, he reminded himself, if I get chosen as a Patron.

It would have to be before his fifteenth birthday, which was a week and a day away, if a god decided to choose him. Still, Mason couldn't think of why any god would want him as its Anima Patron. He had bad grades, slightly yellow teeth, a sickly pale face dotted with freckles and short black hair that smelled terrible most of the times. He also thought of the gods as hairy, stupid, and meaningless; and he mentally referred to the most powerful god, the dragon, as the worm, or the blue worm, or the hairy worm hybrid, or the blue catfish worm. Surely, the gods must know that. They would never pick him.

He managed to comfort himself with the thought that it wasn't his fault, the 'dragon' god looking like a worm; but he still wished that he'd be chosen by a hairy animal god. It was mostly for the cool powers and being special, but that didn't matter. He could use some special in his miserable life, anyway.

Sadly, all the gods now down in the world hadn't changed education, and friday was still a school day. There were two types of school; schools for normal kids, and schools made to train Anima Patrons. Mason went to a boring normal school and learned math and science, while the Anima Patrons trained to be able to use their powers to full capacity. It sounded way more interesting than finding the value of x and learning about electrons and stars.

He was sitting in Art, listening to the subject of the day. Now that the gods' existence was proven, most of the 8th grade art projects were about a god. Mason hated it. It was more than enough that the animal gods existed in the first place.

"... a god of your liking today. And this, of course, will be a grade..." the teacher, Mrs. Lindell, was saying. Mason gazed at her gauntly. He wished that he could just sleep right then and there, but he couldn't afford another D-, even if he was sleep-deprived. From across the room, Mrs. Lindell called up Lisa to pass out sheets of white drawing paper, one for each person. Lisa beamed at her from behind her glasses and took the papers.

Mason straightened up as Lisa dropped off his paper in front of him, considering which of the gods he wished to offend the most by drawing them awfully. He wasn’t a very good art student, anyway, so he had a pretty good excuse. The choice was as clear as day; the worm. Mason smiled to himself, and also to his genius thoughts. What other, better chances did he have to directly insult the catfish worm without ‘meaning’ to be offensive?

After ten minutes, Mrs. Lindell came by and stared at his drawing for a long time. It looked terrible. Mason knew it, Mrs. Lindell probably knew it, and the whole school knew it. It was a poor imitation of the dragon god. A thick blue line that looked like the letter S was placed right in the middle of the paper. The head was a little wider. Two bulging, cartoon eyes stared at Mason, as if it was feeling incredulous and saying, How dare you draw me like this, mortal! which made him feel a whole lot better. Something that resembled a row of white spikes went down the dragon’s back. Limp whiskers hung from its chin and ended in rectangles. Its feet were simple lines, like a bird’s; three short segments extending from a longer one that connected to the dragon’s body.

Mrs. Lindell took his drawing wordlessly and sighed, showing it to the class. “This,” she said, “is a perfect example of a D-. The dragon god doesn’t look like that.” The class erupted in laughter and giggles. A fat boy, Horace, snickered and pointed his pudgy finger at Mason. In response, Mason rolled his eyes. Who cared? As long as he could show the world that he really hated the worm, he was fine with humiliation and an annoying Mrs. Lindell.

She put Mason’s picture back on his desk, gave him a hard look, then walked off to check on another student’s drawing. Mason glared at her back darkly. Even if he didn’t mind the student body laughing at him, he did mind Mrs. Lindell. She always watched him like a vulture, practically waiting for any mistakes to be made, minor or not. Mason glanced down at his drawing, took the red colored pencil, and wrote, in capital, bold letters; HIIII, STUPID CATFISH WORM!! Satisfied, he folded his paper and shoved it into his pocket. On a second thought, he didn’t mind another D-, if it was to vex Mrs. Lindell.

He realized that he had forgotten to draw the worm’s antlers, but he didn’t care. The god could do without some antlers.

Humming, he leaned back in his chair and eyed the digital clock that hung in the white-walled classroom, waiting for the class to end. Other students were working hard on their artworks, unlike himself. Lisa, a major fan of the tiger god, was drawing a tiger, of course. It actually looked quite realistic. Lisa had obviously looked at a lot of pictures of the tiger god. She had gotten the blazing red, orange and yellow fur right; even the gold stripes and gold eyes.

As fitted to the god who came just beneath the blue catfish worm, thus being the second most powerful god, the tiger god looked majestic, and also a little miffed that it had lost to a worm with deer antlers and T-Rex feet. Mason could relate. In fact, he liked the tiger god a whole lot more than the worm. It would also be cool to be able to control fire. But he knew that he had no chance of being chosen by such a powerful god. He would probably be picked as a leftover by the sewer rat or the monkey. The monkey Patrons could sing and dance really well, and make the depicted subject of their songs and dances come to life, sometime in the future. Mason had no intention of singing or dancing, even though it might come true in the near or far future.

The bell rang, and Mrs. Lindell called, “Leave your artworks on your desks, please! Thank you! Have a wonderful day!”

She was nice to everyone else except for him. Again, he didn’t care.

Art had been the last subject for the day. Mason liked the fact. After an hour of torture with Mrs. Lindell, he got to greet the free sky and relax for a while.

When he packed all he needed for the night in his backpack and slammed his locker with his foot, he headed out of the school building. His home was a mile away from school, but because both his parents were out working late, he had to walk home.

The route he had to take was a straight line of sidewalks that was accompanied by shops, markets, a school for the Anima Patrons, and more shops. Only people over fourteen and to twenty attended the Anima Patron schools. The one he had to cross, cleverly and originally named the Anima Patrons' Academy for Training, was divided into a section for high schoolers and a section for anyone above high school. It ended at six in the afternoon, unlike a regular school. Training never ended for the Anima Patrons.

As Mason passed the Anima Patrons' Academy for Training, the weight of the backpack wearing him down, he looked up to admire the silver gates and the marble columns beside the gates and crashed into a boy, literally. The boy was heavy, muscular and taller, so it was Mason who ended up on the ground, his hands scraped and his head dancing. He looked up, scowling, then froze. The boy was wearing a white collared shirt under a bright, sky-blue vest that was rimmed with silver, and a dark gray uniform pants. He was an Anima Patron. Also, his hands had a bluish tinge to them.