Esme Young
Chapter 1
Rain slowly dripped from the dying leaves of the trees, lazily filling every crack in the ground when a shadow came into view, sending two bluebirds bursting out from the foliage. The figure slid her hood off, revealing dark curls that fell around her pale face. She pulled a black bag from her shoulder and let it fall to the ground, quickly searching for something within. Out came first, a large paintbrush, and second, a bucket of what seemed to be paint.
Everything was still. It was as if the wind did not dare pass by the mansion. Any form of life was nonexistent, save for the unkept gardens that wildly grew up the sides of the house and the trees which stood grandly around it, shading the house from the prying human eyes. Its dark windows were shaded, hiding the work of its sole inhabitant, Ivy, as she was later called.
Towers of empty paint buckets seemed to curve around the desk at which she sat, creating a cave where she furiously scribbled away in notebooks, the scratching of her pen the only audible sound on the property. Wrinkled papers laid on the hardwood floor, balancing carefully on each other. The room reeked of chemicals that turned the eyes of the woman who sat behind the desk raw and pink.
Anger radiated from Ivy, its fiery hands clasping around her heart and turning her thoughts into malevolent rats that scurried about in the shell of a human she was. She looked like a ghost who had lost her soul. The rainy green color that surrounded her made it seem as if her bold green eyes were glowing. Any remaining park-goers gave her odd looks and continued about their day in a new location, half scrambling to get away from the strange woman holding a paintbrush and a bucket of paint.
Ivy plunged her brush into the bucket, clear, sparking liquid dripping down the bristles, and falling to the wet earth. Where the paint dripped, white splotches followed. The paint seemed to act like bleach, eagerly stealing the color out of anything it touched.
With a few angry words that slipped out her soft lips, she raised her arm above her head and began painting. It was as if she was going over everything with an eraser meant for only color. People all over the world raised their heads to look up in wonder as the world turned white.
A teenaged boy’s soft brown eyes flashed as he turned to see the lack of color spreading behind him. He jumped up from his seat on the bench, dropping his old book from his callused hands. He ran to find the source of the phenomenon, darting between buildings and through alleys and stumbling through the park. He slid to a stop in front of Ivy, throwing his hands out in front of him to balance himself. She seemed oblivious to his presence.
The boy dipped his finger into the bucket just as she her eyes flicked in his direction. She lunged to push him out of the way, and he held out his hand in defense. Horror filled her eyes as she realized what he had done. That was the way she stayed. The magical substance had turned her completely to stone, with a paintbrush in her hand and a gasp waiting to escape her opening mouth—
Ebony slammed the sketchbook closed as she heard someone open the door to the art room. Paris walked in, cheeks flushed from the fall chill. Her curly light hair was miraculously pulled up into a ponytail, a rare feat only accomplished on the greatest of hair days. Her purple eyes shone with excitement, and she practically bounced over to Ebony, who hid the book behind her.
“What are you doing? Aren’t you supposed to be at lunch?” she asked her wild eyed friend.
“Looking for you! Why do you always have to spend your lunches in here? Mr. Mendez isn’t even at school today,” Paris said with mock grumpiness.
“Come on, you know I hate the cafeteria,” Ebony sighed with a small smile. “You should go enjoy your lunch with your other friends.”
“But I never see you. You’re always in here or with your brother,” moaned Paris. She tilted her head to give Ebony puppy eyes, hands clasped behind her back, but instead her eyes caught the book behind Ebony. “What’s that?” she asked, and before Ebony could react, Paris snatched the sketchbook from her hands. Paris was exceptionally smart, but sometimes she had the attention span of a toddler.
“It’s-don’t!” Ebony exclaimed, but it was too late. Paris had already opened the book and started flipping through the pages.
“Not this again,” groaned Paris. “You’re obsessed!”
Ebony grabbed the book back from her friend and set it back on the shelf where she had found it. “I’m not obsessed, I just want to know what happened to the boy in the story.”
Which reminds me. As you may have noticed, there has been a lack of descriptive words involved with color in the past couple pages. With a bit of inference, I would expect you to have come to the conclusion that the world is, in fact, white. However, I have not come to know you yet (though my intentions are to), and I’ve decided to set my expectations low for your sake. See, if I set my expectations low, they can only get higher.
Which is unfortunate for you, my dear reader, because by the end of this book my goal is for it not to be nessecary to explain every detail with you, therefore forcing you to use what little brain cells you have. I find that people of your time tend to be lacking the the wisdom department, as your educations are… questionable, to say the least.
This brings me to my next point. As I hope you have already supposed (deep down, to adhere to my primary statement that my expectations are low), this is written in the future. But how would you know to write to us, your past, if you’re in the future? Ah. You see, as recent events have taken place, scientists have found new ways to do things they never thought they could by combining new technologies and Magic. But what is Magic? That, my dear reader, you will have to learn yourself.
Something flashed behind Paris’s eyes. Annoyance, probably. “You’re always saying that. I’m sure he lived a normal life.”
“Whatever. I’ll see you at the end of the day,” Ebony said. Paris sighed.
“No lunch, then?” she asked. Ebony shook her head. “We’re still walking home, right?” Ebony smiled. “Of course we are.” Paris grinned and skipped out of the room.
Paris and Ebony had met in second grade. Ebony was sitting on the grass under a shady oak tree when Paris approached her. They both remarked how neither of them had really spoken before. They agreed that they would be friends, and that was it. Ever since then, they had been the two most unlikely friends. Paris, a popular, loud girl was quite the opposite of Ebony, who had always been reserved and quiet, preferring to be around her paints. Despite their differences, they never had fought, never been upset with the other person, always been around when the other person needed them.
Ebony went back to cleaning the art room for Mr. Mendez, as she did every day. It seemed as if the room would never stay clean. Paint was always stuck to the tables, staining the sink, and in an odd place that differed every day. Today, it was inside the pencil sharpener. Ebony had stopped asking questions after the second week.
Hold on a second. There’s an art class? Isn’t there… no color? Who invited you? And yes, there is still art with no color. But how do you see it? That is a very valid question, dear reader. See, the entire world is not completely white. There is no color, but there is still a gray scale, so shadows can be seen and different shades of paint and such can be used. Imagine a world without art. Wouldn’t that just be awful?
As the day progressed, Ebony sat through her last half of her classes. She had always been one of the smartest kids in her class, and she didn’t need teaching, because she seemed to know every answer to every question presented to her. So during her classes she let her mind wander out of the open classroom door, through the empty halls, and under the crack of the main doors. It flitted about, flying through the air and into the wispy clouds that coated the sky’s skin. It would zip back into the building and into her body, causing her lowered eyes to snap to attention when a teacher asked a question.
Today, as Ebony gazed out of the window of her history classroom, she noticed dark clouds slowly creeping towards the town. The blue sky seemed be fighting the clouds, as it refused to darken, but the later it got, it was more apparent that the clouds were winning the battle. Ebony sighed, and slipped her phone out from her bag, quickly sending a text to her brother, Jackson.
Ebony: It’s raining
Jackson: Duh
Ebony: Did you drive this morning
Jackson: Yeah, I can drive you home
Ebony: Thx mind if Paris joins
Jackson: Do u want me to drop her off or does she want to come over
Ebony: Um
Jackson: Omg you haven’t even asked
Ebony: Screw you
Ebony: Hey, it’s raining
Paris: Ik
Ebony: Jackson can drive if u want
Paris: Thanks girl!
Ebony: Do you want to hang out or do you want us to drop you off
Paris: I’ve got some stuff to do tonight
Ebony: Your dorm it is
Ebony: Her dorm
Jackson: K
Jackson was another person quite opposite to Ebony, though he was her twin. He was also a very popular. Some of which he owed to his good looks, with his dark, straight hair ruffled on the top of his head. He had a strong build and wide shoulders, and if one didn’t know him, they would assume he was a sort of jock. Alas, he was a very intelligent boy who loved to design and create odd contraptions. Of course, this made him all the more attractive to the many greedy girls of Eastwood High School, and occasionally a few boys. There was a rumor going around the school that he was dating Ebony because of how much time they spent together. The twins thought this absurd and slightly hilarious, but they made no effort to dismiss the rumor.
“Have you heard that people think we’re dating?” asked Jackson one day.
“Yeah I have. Weird, isn’t it?” Ebony laughed.
“I mean, we could just let it go on. Makes me a little less of a magnet for the girls,” Jackson suggested.
“Why not? I don’t want to date anyone,” grinned Ebony. That was that.
Ebony met Jackson and Paris at the front steps of the school. They walked quickly to Jackson’s car as to not become soaking wet. The mission was soon compromised. Ebony ducked into the front seat, but Jackson stopped her.
“I’m going to drop you off first,” he said. Ebony was confused.
“Why?” she asked.
“Got an errand to run,” he explained. Paris and Ebony switched seats, and they were off. The dull pattering of the rain on the top of Jackson’s car left everyone silent. Ebony leaned on the window, watching the raindrops being consumed by bigger and bigger raindrops until at last, they slipped down the glass to where she could watch them no more. The scenery flashing past them became gray blurs inside mini-magnifying glasses that were the beads of water.
“Ebony.” She awoke with a start. Her face was mashed against the window, her mouth wide open. A large apartment building came into focus behind the raindrops.
“We’re here,” laughed Paris. With a slight flush to her cheeks, Ebony sat herself back up and lugged her bag with her as she stumbled out of the car and into the front doors of their marvelously odd apartment.
Chapter 2
Their parents were convinced it was the best for the twins to live separate from their tense parents, so they all lived in an apartment separated into three sections, one for their mom, one for their dad, and one for the twins. Their grandmom, a semi-insane but famous (and therefore wealthy) actress, bought the entire building when she learned of the separation of the former couple. Strangely enough, the two never had the patience or dedication, it seemed, to go through with the divorce. The building, having one family as its owner, turned into more of a tall house than an apartment when they removed the stairwell in the middle of it modified it to their pleasing.
Their dad, the most secretive, being a sort of mad scientist, lived underground. Their mother, the cleaning freak, lived in the middle, and the twins on the top. Each section of the apartment was decorated according to the person who lived there. The basement reminded Ebony of a rabbit den. It was big with a lot of twists and turns. It was hard to navigate and fairly easy to get lost in. There were many stairs and elevators leading to more and more lab rooms with things even a daredevil wouldn’t try messing with, let alone touching. The father’s room consisted of a tiny place with white walls, a bed with white covers, a bed stand with a white clock so he could get up early to continue his ideas, and a white bookshelf with textbooks on molecular science, biology, ecology, and other names Ebony couldn’t remember because her father was kicking her out. See, she and Jackson were not allowed to interact with their parents, much less go into their territory and read their titles of books. Of course, that spiked their curiosity, so they knew what needed to be known about their strange parents.
Now, the mother, the cleaning freak, had the middle two floors. On her first floor, she had the kitchen, the only place where everyone was allowed in at once. However, their were three different tables for the three different groups. They each chose their table, chairs, plates, glasses, and silverware for their section. They even each picked a rug for under their table! Their father’s was a particularly spotty table from various stains over the years. He usually spent his meal staring at a notebook with a pen in his mouth. Sometimes he even tried to use his pen as a fork. This caused the twins to giggle very loudly, at which point their father would scream at them to go to their territory. This was usually the only thing either parent would say to their children. His plates were white, glasses clear, silverware silver. His rug was grey because his family started to bother him about to get a color sense other than white. It had no pattern. His chairs were fold-up chairs that were, you guessed it, white! His section was divided by rugged white tape. The children never went there. The area was generally stained and messy.
The kitchen was only allowed to be used by their mother, but the twins didn’t want to cook in it anyway. Their mother prepared the most awful meals only edible to those who know-how to eat them. Ebony and Julian often joked about their mom putting glass cleaner in the meals, just to make sure the plates would stay clean, which could have happened.
I have grown incredibly bored of calling their mother “their mother,” dear reader, so I will tell you her name, in exchange for silence. Good. Emmaline was her name, and for that matter, their father’s name was Igor. Now that I think about it, I haven’t even given you this family’s last name. Well, that was Brooke, for your information. I might expect you to remember the names of characters. So bookmark your page, or do whatever you did then. I don’t care how you remember it.
The kitchen consisted of about fifty cook books, because Emmaline did not know how to cook. Everyone who visited their apartment (There were very few people who Emmaline was friends with, and Jackson didn’t bother bringing his many friends to his strange apartment. Ebony and Igor didn’t have any friends to bring home.) were incredibly confused as to why Emmaline had all of those cook books. Emmaline went to cutlery school to learn to be a chef, but somehow passed with not knowing anything. She just told everyone she got bored of the same recipes. The truth was that she used a different recipe every meal, and couldn’t get any of them right.
The living room wasn’t quite a living room because nobody spent much time there, except Emmaline, just to run around with a duster and vacuum. It was a huge room with couches and chairs covering every foot of it with windows surrounding it. It even had windows going into the kitchen. There was a single lamp in the middle of the room, and a chandelier above it. This was yet another thing everyone thought was strange. The den consisted of a dark room with a single, square window in the corner of the room. It had a couch, a rug, and copies of famous paintings hung on the walls. The second floor was almost entirely Emmaline’s room. This was the place she spent the most time. She always took a cook book up there and sat on her silver, velvet couch.
Besides the silver couch, she had a king-sized bed with a picture of her “messy” mother above it. Emmaline always said cleanliness had skipped a generation in her family. In any case, she had a large, polished wood desk with a rose gold lamp curving down upon it. She always had fresh flowers perched on top of her dresser. Her dresser was lavender and opened for you to find many hidden compartments she didn’t even know about. This is where Ebony hid her extra papers from her notebook. The bathroom was so clean it practically sparkled. There was a huge shower and sink which dipped down into a cabinet. Her room was mostly dark but contained a few windows and a crystal chandelier. Inside her desk were a variety of old, useless, and unused pens and pencils. She was so worried about running out of ink or lead she snuck downstairs, where Igor was stressing over where all of his pencils have gone.
Moving on to— wait! I should let you know there are four ways to maneuver up and down the apartment. The first was a white set of slippery stairs which led down to Igor’s territory. Obviously, no one but Igor used these stairs, only when they needed to sneak down. The second was another set of stairs which were polished and wooden. They had a carpet going down them and a beautiful banister Jackson secretly slid down with his sister for fun. The third was an elevator in the corner of the apartment. It was rather small, but it could hold both twins and their backpacks with their most homework. It went from the first floor to the fourth. It was the most magnificent of the four ways to go up and down the apartment.
Another set of beautiful stairs lead from the second to the third floor. When you got to the third floor, it was the twin’s mudroom (Everyone had a mudroom, but I didn’t mention them because they were not worthy of mentioning.). Their mudroom was built by Jackson, as he was an aspiring inventor. Why was the mudroom built by Jackson? Glad you asked. This is how it worked. You stepped onto a platform with your shoes still on. It sealed a plastic dome around your ankles. Then it would soak everything within the dome with water. (If you had fancy shoes, just skip down four sentences.) After, it lathered them with soap. Next it was another round of water. Then it sucked out all of the moisture and blew warm air your shoes. Finally it suction cupped your shoes to the platform and unfastened the dome. You were to step out of your shoes into the next platform. Your shoes would be put on a shelf for later use.
On the next platform, the hard floor would suddenly turn fluffy and soft. Little foamy fingers would take off your socks, and put on a warm pair. The socks were automatically washed for you and folded into your dresser. Ebony never found out how Jackson got the socks into her dresser with the machine. Next, you would step into their kitchen. A robotic hand would give you a clay mug made by Ebony full of hot chocolate with cinnamon on top. The fridge door swung open to a variety of snacks, but if you weren’t hungry, it wouldn’t open. You would walk into their art studio and inventing room. It was divided by a line of tape in the middle. On one side were machines and their parts scattered on top of cabinets and shelves. On the other was a variety of paints Ebony thought would be interesting if color ever appeared again on a neat desk with her many loose papers from her notebook.
If you walked up yet another set of stairs, you would find their bedroom. That is private, so I will not go into detail about it. Then you would walk up a set of stairs with vines growing on the walls around the staircase. When you would reach the top, you would see you were on the roof. Half of the roof his incased in glass, so you could see everywhere, but be nice and warm while you do your homework. The other half was a miraculous garden outside with plants some botanists couldn’t name.
The only other inhabitant of the Brooke household was a newly acquired kitten. One of Jackson’s friends had happened upon the small bundle of white fluff and given her to them to keep for a night until they could taken it into a rescue center to put her up for adoption. Naturally, Ebony and Jackson had fallen in love with Lily and made the ultimate decision to have her stay. Lily didn’t seem to mind at all. She adapted quickly to the odd apartment, enjoying all of the little hiding spaces. Of course, Emmaline and Igor were not aware that an animal existed in the home, as Emmaline would be mortified. In her mind, animals carried all sorts of terrifying germs and things. Ebony and Jackson complained endlessly to their father about how noisy it was until he installed a door at the top of the stairs, effectively ensuring that she couldn’t leave the upper level. Together, the twins saved up enough money to have her taken care of at the veterinarian, and from that moment on, Lily was a permanent member of their family, unbeknownst to Emmaline and Igor. Her litter box was placed in their bathroom and food set out each morning and night on a windowsill, which she very much enjoyed.
Lily was an impeccably strong cat. Though her white fur coat was thick and long, her firm muscles were visible on the curves of her shoulders. She had a funny way of flicking her tail back and forth whenever one of the twins came up to greet her. Ebony bought her a pink collar with a little flower and her name engraved into it.
***
Jackson returned late that night. He could see where Ebony laid her bed. He knew she was awake, knew she could see his shadow walking up the stairs that lead to their bedroom. He tossed his backpack in the corner and left the room to put his pajamas on. Entering the bathroom, he splashed water on his face, rubbing his eyes. He glanced back up at the mirror and into his increasingly tired eyes. Sighing, he silently wished sleep deprivation didn’t externally show. When he came back, Ebony was asleep. Her soft snores were muffled by Lily, who was happily situated directly on top of her head. He ran his fingers through is hair with a great sigh, sitting on the edge of his unmade bed, head resting in his hands. He stayed like that for a while, before finally slipping into his covers and letting the darkness steal his thoughts away and pull him into the abyss.
Esme Young 