There's no light at the bottom on the ocean.
I'm swaying on the currents in silence, giving no resistance as I twist gently on the tide.
It's so cold here.
There's no up or down, no before or after, no here or there. Nothing outside of myself. Nothing to separate me from the endless black depths.
I'm stuck in an endless oceanic slumber, lulled by the gentle rocking motion of distant waves.
I could stay this way forever.
Something's nagging at the edges of my mind, pulling at my consciousness, demanding attention.
Somewhere, there is more than this.
I haven't always been here. I know there was something before.
Something happened. Something so terrible that I've sealed it away, safe in the deepest recesses of my nightmares.
It's here with me now.
I made this darkness myself, so
I wake up in an unfamiliar room.It takes me a moment to register my surroundings. I'm lying on a bed, on top of the covers and fully dressed (thank god), apart from my cardigan, which is hanging over the arm of a wooden chair in the corner of the room.It's a small room, with stone walls, a fireplace directly opposite the single bed and a bunch of yellow flowers in a clay mug on the windowsill.Branches and jewel-green leaves suffused with soft late morning light dance outside the window.I must be on the upper level of the cabin. This might even be the room Lyall was in before he came downstairs. I wonder how long I was out this time?I sit up, swinging my legs around the side of the bed. I stand up too soon and have to sit down again as a rush of black suddenly washes over me and recedes just as quickly.That's right. I was in such a rush to get to Z
The shadows are lengthening and the sunlight has softened into afternoon's honey gold by the time I'm finished telling Kitty all about that day.She's sitting still as a statue in the armchair opposite me, bathed in patches of multicolored light streaming in through the huge stained glass window behind us. It's like she's in an impressionist painting, streaked with red and green and blue light, and I imagine I'm spilling out my story to a brightly jewel-encrusted portrait of some noblewoman from a bygone era.It makes it easier to talk.The words rush out of me, a flood of grief that I didn't even realize I'd been damming up.Kitty doesn't interrupt me, not even once – only nodding her head from time to time, listening in absolute silence. Even as I tell her about how I watched everyone die, how Mia lay at the bottom of the bus with her head cracked open in a pool of blood, or how Evan sacrifice
“Marshmallows. Do you eat them?” Ben asks as he slips onto a bar stool next to Alastaire.“I guess,” I say. “They’re nice in hot chocolate.”“Good,” he says. “We’re running out of food and all we have left is a jumbo-sized bag of marshmallows until Kitty can get to the shops tomorrow.”“Wonderful planning as always Kitty,” says Alastaire. “You had one job. ONE JOB.”“Hey!” Kitty says as she punches Alastaire in the arm. “We wouldn’t have run out if you guys hadn’t eaten an entire week’s worth of groceries in one weekend. It’s not my fault you’re all such gluttons.”“That’s not true,” Ben says. “Anyway, I would kill for a pizza right now. Remind me again why we’re camped out in the middle of the woo
"I guess you won't be staying the night then?"Felix is in the tree above me, stretched out languidly on his back along a wide branch. There's a book in his hand.He jumps down and lands right in front of me in one swift graceful movement, and I stumble backwards, until my back is pressed up against the huge tree trunk. He leans forward, placing the palm of his hand against the wood right next to me, leaning down until his hazel eyes are just inches away from my own."How much do they know?" He says.He must be talking about the phone call. Does he know it was Jamie?"Nothing," I say.He leans closer in, as if to lock me down, maybe trying to intimidate me. Scare the truth out of me. But the thing is, I'm already telling the truth. I haven't told anyone where Fable is or what they're doing.If there's one thing I'm good at, it's k
I rush into the kitchen, and I'm met with the last thing I expect to find.My mom and dad are sitting down at our kitchen table with Zee, Grace, and Grace's mom. A pink-haired girl is clutching onto Zee, her face twisted in shock, her mouth hanging open in mid-scream. It takes me a second to recognize Jamie.That's right. She said she was dying her hair for the Nasty Gal blogger shoot. What's she doing here? What are any of them doing here?All eyes are on Felix, as he stands glowering near the doorway.Zee's expression is glazed over and I'm guessing she's in shock from seeing Felix again.I can see the realization dawning on her, and as if to follow Jamie's cue, she gasps and her eyes widen. I can see the scream before I hear it. I swoop forward and wrap my hand around her mouth just in time."Wher
I watch from my bedroom window until I see the taillights of my dad's car disappear into the darkness. It took ages for my parents to leave.They asked Jamie and Zee to go home as soon as Felix left, and then they interrogated me for almost an hour. They probably would have carried on longer if they didn't need to get to Biblio for the late night Sunday supper service.That's one perk of having chefs for parents – it's always just a matter of time before they have to rush back to the kitchen.With my phone on silent and a giant mug of chai tea on my bedside table, I sprawl out on my bed with my laptop in front of me.It's time to clear some things up.First I check the official Fable fansites, then the most popular Tumblrs and Fable Twitter accounts. As expected, everyone thinks the boys are spread out across the globe on vacation during the hiatus between albums.
Unfortunately, it's not Felix on the other side of the door.There's a rake-thin woman in a long black dress standing in the doorway. Even though her face is concealed by a red scarf wrapped around her head like a shawl, I can tell immediately that she's really old.She's holding a basket filled to the brim with gleaming red apples. A gnarled hand reaches into the basket and strokes one of the apples, the fingers lazily tracing the plump crimson fruit. The old woman appears to be muttering something over and over again. It sounds like the word fated, or maybe hated.Nope, not happening. It's too early for Halloween.I start closing the door, ready to lock it and run upstairs, possibly even call 911.Just before the door shuts, I hear a voice say my name."Ashling?"She pushes the scarf back, revealing a familiar face.
I'm standing beneath a starry sky on the edge of a jagged cliff.Ocean waves crash against a rocky shore far below, churning up swirling sea foam bathed in silvery moonlight.My hair whips around me; the wind stings my eyes.I stand for a long time, looking down at the raging seas.Somewhere in that dark ocean, the bus is sinking, a metal coffin falling forever.I can feel the cold interior slick with blood; I can hear my classmates calling me.There's a tug in my chest, like an invisible string pulling me forward.Somehow I know that if I look too long, I'll float out to sea, and I'll never be able to swim back.So I focus my attention on the pale white ribbon of sand that stretches like a snake out along the base of the cliffs far below, glowing faintly with trapped moonlight.A procession of figures in silver
She sits high up in the branches of an ancient blackthorn tree, draped in a darkness blacker than midnight.They’re still searching for her.She can hear the faraway shouting, the breaking of twigs underfoot, even the beating of their hearts.Now she watches those five blazing hearts dancing through the dark far below, glowing like red embers in the dying fire.Her eyes travel further afield, to the heart of the forest, where a nimbus of brilliant silver blooms in the shadows.She smiles as the cold wind tugs on her hair, and she sends a tune out along the breeze, towards the silvery light.The oldest song she can remember.A lullaby.Soon, she’ll be free.She’ll destroy it. Music made magic, the chain unbroken for a thousand years.
This can't be happening.The massive ball of silver light hanging in the air unfurls, opening up like the petals of an incandescent metallic rose.In the circle of luminosity, a wavy ribbon of radiance seems to move in a slow pattern, weaving in and out of itself like a twisting knot of smoke.As my eyes adjust, I make out its real shape.Impossible.A long, coiling body covered in glinting scales like a thousand tiny mirrors, reflecting the light of the full moon. A coffin-shaped head bobbing slowly on an invisible current. Two wide, glittering green eyes shining like emeralds.Even though it must be at least twenty feet above us, I can clearly see a series of markings on the underbelly of the serpent, darker scales or scarring, running down its length like Hieroglyphics or some ancient script.A figure-eight on its side. A cross looped o
The forest is bathed in bright silvery moonlight as we make our way along the trail from the car park.Despite Felix and Alastaire's spat, the evening served its purpose.Satisfied now that they'd met – or rather, interrogated – the band, my parents were totally happy to send me off with them at the end of the night with my overnight bag, a flashlight and the remaining strawberry cupcakes in a tupperware.We agreed I'll stay with the guys as long as it takes to get the album recorded – maybe up to a week or longer – and I'll phone my mom to check in every day.It'll be so much better not having to do this long walk twice a day. And staying over at the cabin's gonna be fun. Like a summer camp. Even if I'm feeling sort of nervous about being around Felix after the… thing… that happened in my bedroom.Now, as I pick my way along th
I'm putting the finishing touches on a strawberry cupcake when I hear the doorbell ringing, followed by frantic knocking.I run to the front door, and swing it open.Kitty's standing on the front porch, looking like she just stepped out of The Great Gatsby. She's wearing a chic forest green silk dress, and her bob of dark hair is tied back with a filmy white scarf, which trails down her back. Fluttering in the breeze, the scarf makes it look almost like she has a set of translucent wings. A pair of huge dark glasses – the sort celebs wear when evading the paparazzi – in combination with the scarf wings makes me think of a bug.In fact, Kitty looks a lot like a dragonfly right now – a dragonfly crossed with a gorgeous glamazon heiress.As soon as I open the door, she's visibly relieved.She turns towards the road and gestures behind her, at a black Jeep parked just a
The rest of the week slips by, and Thursday night arrives way before I'm ready for it.After practicing with the boys for hours on end from sunrise to sunset, plus the long walk to the cabin and back every day, I'm exhausted.The last thing I feel like is having to sit through a long dinner while my mom tries to convince the boys that she's "hip" and "knows how to use the Facebook" – while my dad cross-examines them like a detective in an 80s cop show.Plus, knowing them, they'll have prepared a ridiculous feast of epic proportions for the boys. The last thing I want is to give off the impression that we're trying too hard.To make matters worse, I've barely seen my friends this week, and I know I should ask them if they want to come over tonight. They could show up after dinner, and hang out with the guys a bit.But the memory of Felix blatantly ignoring Zee and Jamie the othe
By the time we wrap up and leave the recording studio, I’m feeling on top of the world.Elliot was totally right. As soon as we started jamming, everything just fell into place.The boys had already written most of the music and lyrics for the new album. They’d been practicing the songs for weeks, and the only thing missing was the acoustic guitar.At first they just played through what they had, and I slipped in, adding the sound of my guitar to the music they’d already created.It was clear to see why Felix was so determined to include acoustic guitar on the new album. Without it, the songs had the same old familiar indie rock sound of their previous singles. But with the addition of the extra sound, everything seemed to take on a mystical, romantic, almost eerie quality.After hours of revisions and experimentation, we have the first song ready to record.
By the time I reach the boys’ hideout, it’s already past 9am.Someone’s gonna be sooo pissed.A mental image of Felix impatiently sitting on the steps outside the front door with a scowl plastered on his face pops into my mind, and I find it oddly satisfying.Let him wait. I’m not his slave.But as I leave the forest and walk across the clearing towards the cabin, I can see that the steps are empty. He’s not waiting.Maybe he forgot.I’m glad to finally be finished the long walk – I bought my guitar along in its case today, and it gets surprisingly heavy after almost an hour of carrying it.I pause at the foot of the steps, looking up at the carpet of brilliant red roses clinging to the front of the cabin.As the princess lay slumbering, around the castle the
I wake up crying.The image of Mia with a bloody rose blooming from her lips makes my stomach turn, and I realize I'm about to hurl.I make it to the bathroom in the nick of time, and I throw-up up until I taste bile.Afterwards, I take a hot shower, scrubbing away the night's memories and terrors.If only I could forget it all.Forget the nightmare. Forget the accident. Forget Evan and Mia.Once I'm done in the shower, I change into skinny jeans, a white cami, and my red hoodie.The same hoodie that the Alastaire's Angels tore to shreds the night of the concert. I never did ask Felix how he mended it so quickly. Although it's not like he would have mended it personally. Maybe someone at the hotel did it.I run my fingers over the seams, looking for some stitch out of place, a clue, but it's as perfect a
I'm standing beneath a starry sky on the edge of a jagged cliff.Ocean waves crash against a rocky shore far below, churning up swirling sea foam bathed in silvery moonlight.My hair whips around me; the wind stings my eyes.I stand for a long time, looking down at the raging seas.Somewhere in that dark ocean, the bus is sinking, a metal coffin falling forever.I can feel the cold interior slick with blood; I can hear my classmates calling me.There's a tug in my chest, like an invisible string pulling me forward.Somehow I know that if I look too long, I'll float out to sea, and I'll never be able to swim back.So I focus my attention on the pale white ribbon of sand that stretches like a snake out along the base of the cliffs far below, glowing faintly with trapped moonlight.A procession of figures in silver