Tales from the Dystopia - Ch 1

Chapter 1
-Butterspring 15029-

He was woken by the alarm. ‘Is it really that time already?’ he thought, ‘OK, here we go’. He climbed out of the rickety little bed and stretched his arms up to the ceiling as he turned back to look at the untidy sheets that lay askew on his place of rest. He scratched his back while he tossed up whether or not his parents would kill him for leaving it like that. After a minute or so he shrugged it off and walked to the bathroom. Wiping the foggy mirror with the sleeve of his cotton onesie to reveal his slim face, hazel eyes, and messy, dark hair, he grabbed his toothbrush and started to freshen himself up. He was a thin boy but still managed to have enough muscle to climb some of the large trees, and buildings, of the village in his down time. After three minutes of brushing, and five of getting changed, he donned his shaggy flat cap and set off to the kitchen, where his mother was just placing the five plates of sausages onto the kitchen table. He reached the bottom of the creaky wooden stairs that ran up the wall with a half fallen off banister that wouldn’t have provided much safety if someone were to fall into it. He had arrived at the kitchen table.
At the end of the table sat his father, on the sides, his little brother and his grandma, who he could’ve sworn looked old enough to have witnessed The Closure, and at the other end was an empty seat for his mother. The house was modest, cluttered, and dusty, but it was home. A small bookcase sat against a wall and was covered in in novels, most of which James had read himself. His family's pet owl, Caesar, sat silently in his cage, snoozing with his head sinking into where his neck should be. James was the only one to care for it, well except for his grandmother, a quiet, old lady who enjoyed the trees most of all for some reason. He sat down and started to make his way through his breakfast, which was one of the best he’d have that week. His family was one of the poorer in the village, and he was constantly picked on about his rickety, misshapen house that seemed to defy gravity with its rooms jutting out at odd angles on the second floor. After he finished he walked the plate and dirty cutlery to the sink, splashed it in the water and turned to the calendar on the wall that had the year 15029 scrawled next to a kitten at the top. Tracing his finger along the rough parchment he finally came across Monday the 7th of September. ‘Shit’ he thought
“Ah, Mother.” He softly called across the room without turning from the kitten ridden parchment.
“Yes Dear?” she replied un-busily from her plate at the table.
“I forgot about the excursion today. You know, the one to the third island, um what's it called?” He asked, straining to remember his ‘local history’ lessons with Madam Finch.
“The Tropic, James, it’s called the Tropic, and it’s been cancelled remember, they’re taking you to the valley,” his mother told him with her cup of tea halfway to her lips. She was a quiet lady who was always polite and had a strong love of tea. Today she was, as usual, dressed in clothes that reminded James of pre-Closure medieval maids, who slaved around the castles of the rich and powerful. Her dirty, white bonnet sat limply on the table next to her.
James had now moved away from the calendar and was making for his room. “There’s too many bloody island” he mumbled as he made his escape from the kitchen.
“You know, i’ve always known that boy to forget the simplest of things whenever he had the chance,” James’ grandma told her daughter-in-law in a shaky fraile that sounded as though it, even as weak as it was, could move mountains and charm kings with ease, “Just like his father.” She smiled.
“Mother, please” said the spectacle wearing man at the head of the table. James’ father had a square jaw and soft green eyes, he was a thin man, like his son, but he wasn’t as courageous as the sixteen year old that had just made his way back up the stairs, even though he worked underneath the islands, working out how they float.
“I’m sure he’ll remember the important stuff Bella” defended James’ mother.
“Yes, yes i’m sure he will” scoffed the ancient, boney woman from the other side of the table before loading some egg on her fork and flinging it across the table at the little boy sitting there. She received an annoyed “Graaaaaan” in reply as she began to let out a thin, soft laugh.
“Really Bell, was that necessary?” complained the boy's mother who had licked a napkin and started to clean the struggling youths face. Bella, who was still laughing, managed to reply with “He looked at me funny” before James was stumbling into the tiny kitchen again, bag in hand, and saying goodbye to everyone. He kissed his mother, hugged his father, ruffled his brother's hair, staring at Gran with a look to ask ‘why is there egg on here?’, and moved to the other side of the other side of the table to receive a tough squeeze from the eldest of the family. With the goodbyes said, he set out the door, flinging it wide enough to take in the beautiful blue sky and the distant grounds far beneath the edges of WestRock. Grabbing the bag straps at his side he whispered to himself, “Bloody hell i love it up here, now let’s see what’s down there.”

James stepped off the front step of his house on to the rough cobblestone pathway that winded through the floating island village of WestRock. Glancing at his watch he noticed he only had a few minutes to make it to school, so he broke into a sprint down the path passing traders and people of all colours and kind. As he reached the inter-island tram stop the tram just shoved off on it’s slow, safe journey to the first island. “Dammit” he muttered.
“’Ere a problem James?” called a familiar Irish ridden voice.
“Oh thank god, Mr O’Sullivan…”
“-I already told ya, call me Sully” smiled the grizzly bearded man.
“...Was there any chance you could give me a lift to school? I’m running a little late you see” explained the boy. Sully gave him a hard stare before his eyes turned soft and he replied with “Aye”. The two of them made for Sully’s truck, a rusted old thing with rockets for wheels, where the owner flipped down the visor to reveal a set of keys which fell into his lap. Starting the engine Sully flipped a few of the many switches on the metal dashboard that was covered in rust and broken LED lights, after a bit of shaking and rumbling the truck roared to life and softly rose a few centimeters into the air.
Sully giving a grunt of satisfaction before he fiddled with the gear stick in between himself and the passenger, James took a peek at the twenty or so odd markings atop the leather covered lever but it didn’t last long as he was distracted by the fact that they were now a few meters in the air and rising steadily still. Smirking, Sully started to move the truck forward and to the right, towards island number one, The Charming Ait. James sat up and glanced out the window at all the people down below, then out towards the horizon where, through gaps in the mist covered mountains, he could see The King’s Stretch far beyond. Sully must have noticed this because he leaned over towards his passenger, not taking his eyes off the view in front of him, and said “‘Orrible place those wastes are. Been there one meself, just desert as far as the eye can see. No need for you to be dreaming of going out that ‘er way anytime soon.” James didn’t give a response but instead continued to stare into the distance until the mountains shut the orange expanses from view. He drifted his mind off the distant lands and towards the truck, it was littered with junk, rusted tools and ripped cloth seats. “Mr. O’Sullivan, what sort of truck is this?” he asked.
“I told ya, call me Sully, and this ol’ thin’, it’s a pre-Closure model actually, found it in a wreck a few years back, brough’ it ‘ere, polished it up, and attached a few rockets to where the wheels shoulda been.” he explained with a proud look on his wrinkly old face, “Took’a while ta get all the wiring done o’course, but she’s a beauty ain’t she?” The man reached forward to pat the dashboard before looking up again to take the truck down into the grounds of the school on the The Charming Ait. He looked from side to side as he slowly inched the truck towards the ground, careful not to bump into any trees. They landed with a thump that through both of them forward then back into their seats, staring at each other with looks that were a mix of triumph and worry. Sully opened his door with ease while James had a little trouble with his before it gave. Stepping out onto the neatly mowed lawns of the school he took in his surroundings, he was standing on one of the largest islands, it was covered in hills, which in turn were covered in freshly mowed grass that had some interesting curved patterns in it.
The grounds were covered by a thin number of gum trees that were spaced so that none of them touched each other and instead were given room to grow. The one-story building that was the school sat shining a hundred or so meters away. It’s walls were greyish white in colour with a large pillared entrance that gave way to stylish glass doors leading into the office area. Sully gazed at the gums before turning to say his goodbyes to James and hopping into his flying truck and taking to the skies of Butterspring. James waved the Irishman away before turning towards the school and making the short trip through the thin grass and smooth, grey trees. After hearing the bell ring he ran the last twenty meters to the local learning center. Stumbling through the glass doors he was immediately covered in the shadow of the school secretary, Ms Generva, a stern lady who never seemed to smile and alway had her grey hair in a neat bun on top of her head. She stared down at him through her round spectacles with a scowl on her wrinkled old face. ‘And where have you been?!’ she demanded.
‘I - ah…’ his voice failed him as he tried to come up with an excuse but he hung his head and waited for the red faced Ms Generva to let all the rage, that was now making her ears glow, out on him.
‘I CAN NOT BELIEVE THAT YOU WOULD THINK THAT IT IS ACCEPTABLE TO BE LATE TO THIS SCHOOL!’ she was breathing heavily for a few moments before she corrected herself, clasped her hands together, and some how managed a genuine smile. She would always do this when she was mad, it scared so many people how she would just smile after yelling at them. No one in the school really liked her all that much.
She sighed before continuing, ‘Now, i think you should start making your way to cla-’, she stopped and thought for a second, her head tilted a little downwards, her hands now relaxed but still sitting on top of each other in front of her, ‘Actually’, she smiled, ‘how about we make a quick trip to the principal's office, shall we?’ she smirked, before turning on her heels and walking down one of the many different halls that spiralled around, and underneath, Edgeview Elementary.

Although the school was named as an elementary school it actually taught local children ages five to eighteen, trying to give them enough knowledge about the local area of Butterspring and the historical side of the land the islands floated above. This land is now known as Nomada. Butterspring, geographically, resides in the bottom left corner of the map, a happy little community that's nestled on the four biggest of the hundred or so floating islands that hang motionless in the sky. It’s a tight-knit community of a only a few hundred people, and the usual caravan of traders that come passing through the village whenever they’re in the air space. Nomada, however, lies in the expanse that used to be a bustling part of the world, that was of course before the world had ended roughly twelve millennia ago in the radioactive fires of Croi Doiteain, which was the world’s largest known nuclear power plants.
The exact circumstances behind the meltdown are shrouded in mystery, as there were no survivors, well no known survivors anyway. James rounded another corner, almost chasing the secretary, this hallway was decorated with crudely drawn pictures of the temples on The Shadow’s Haven, the second island, which was inhabited by a large group of bald monks. These monks were peaceful enough around the local population, and even allowed Edgeview to take the first and third years to the temples for excursions. In turn the halls would be decorated by a new swarm of out of proportion, horribly coloured, and chalk smudged artworks, that can only be deciphered from the large banner that hung limply above them, it read ‘The Temples of The Shadow’s Haven’. The eleventh years however, like James, were taken over to the third island for a few days, most went home at night, but some stayed in the hotel on the island. The Tropic, as it was named, is covered in soft sand beaches, crystal clear waters, and towering palm trees that provided just the right amount of shade for the peaceful isle. All in all, it was paradise. The loomy stone corridors of Edgeview however, were not. The secretary rounded the last corner which opened up to a large stone arch housing an oak door that seemed out of place in the dark recesses of the school, the area was lit by two braziers on either side of the entrance. A large golden plaque sat on the wall which read in black letters, ‘Principal Lockhart’, Ms Generva knocked before stepping to the side, poised yet again with her hands softly on top of each other and a thin smile on her face. The doors swung wide in a smooth arc before stopping softly to reveal a large room full of furniture cluttered in books, parchment, and flamboyant hats of varying colour, size, and feather quality. James’ eyes floated across the room, looking at all the head wear his gaze directed itself to a large, light purple, feathered top hat sitting behind a mountain of dusty books. He seemed rather intrigued by it, sadly he could only see the top of it and a large peacock feather, he was about to move forward to have a look at it but faltered when it moved a little. It shuffled around a bit before starting to make its way around the books, then suddenly it appeared into full view on the head of a blonde haired, green eyed, and widely grinning man. This was Mr Jonathan Lockhart.
Ms Generva sighed at the terribly flamboyant man standing in front of them before beginning on the reason they had appeared in the principal's office so unexpectedly. She was immediately cut off by the principal, who did this by doing a motion which looked like he was pretending to zip his mouth shut, Ms Generva was then basically shoved out of the office before Lockhart rounded on James with open arms. “James my boy,” he started, “how have you been?” James gave a slight smile before being taken around the mountain of books to a large window he hadn’t noticed before, the purple-hatted principal grabbed him by the shoulders and stared out the window, just as the starstruck boy in front of him did. Out of the large, partially stained glass window James could see the ground far, far below him, but he could see more of the island on the other side, it would seem that at the back of the school there was a large hole straight through the floating earth that they now resided on. At closer inspection, the hole was surrounded by climbing equipment and seemed to have ropes running down the shaft that could only be about six or seven meters deep and ten across its diameter.
James was still, however, more interested in the landscape that was kilometers below them, the rolling green hills dotted by large trees whose branches twisted outwards blocking the ground here and there, they looked like balls of dark green fur. Then he noticed that wires were hanging over the edge of the hole dropping down towards the green, grassy hills, as James noticed this the principal behind him chimed in, “We’ve, well I’ve, come up with a great idea,” he said enthusiastically, “The teachers are going to start taking students down to the ground for excursions, as well as the other islands. Your class will be going down within the hour, you will explore the valley beneath the islands before returning to our abode. You will all then be able to go and spend time on The Tropic as promised.”
James was thrilled about this, yes he had his doubts that the other children would appreciate such a thing, but James knew that the mayor rarely let people do things like this. “Ah, Sir, it’s hard to believe that the mayor agreed to this,” he said in a quizzical tone of voice.
“Oh, James my boy, of course the mayor has agreed to this,” then he said in a matter-of-fact tone, “It would be illegal to take a heap of kids down to the ground without his permission. Now, you should be moving along, get your things together,” then more dramatically he said, “We’re going to the hills from which we first came.”

The things James was ordered to get together turned out to simply be some climbing gear, his bag, and a notebook, which Madame Finch, the local history teacher seemed to be the appropriate person for the job of taking the youths down to the ground, said he would be taking plenty of notes about flora and fauna in. All the eleventh year students were now forming four lines at each of the lines that fell for what seemed like eternity downwards. As James made his way forward towards where the harnesses sat he noticed a girl on the other side from him was starting to scream, two men, clad in grey shirts that seemed almost skin tight on their muscled bodies, who strangely looked as though they were security of some sort, grabbed her by the arms and carried her off to where James could no longer see her. Although he was happy to hear that the screaming had stopped and she was now calmly returning to watch her friends journey downwards. James grabbed a harness and a lady, also wearing a harness, helped him into it before tightening all the straps and clipping him to the wire. “Alright,” she said, “all you have to do is get down on all fours and slide off the ledge.” she raised an eyebrow, “But perhaps if you were feeling a little more adventurous than the rest of these wimps around here,” she gestured to the rest of the pupils, “I don’t see why you can’t have a running start.”
“What do you mean? An actual run up? Isn’t that dangerous?” asked James.
“No of course not, look at these harnesses, they’ll hold your weight easily, just make sure you drop far enough to make it under the ledge. You know, I read your file, your father is one of the scientists working underneath the islands isn’t he? One of the best climbers in the village I’d imagine?” she smiled at him.
“Uh, yeah he is” he replied.
“Well he would have taught you a few things then wouldn’t he have?”
“Well, some things I guess.”
“Well do you want to jump or not?” she now motioned her hand towards the gaping hole.
“What do we have here?” one of the grey-shirted men had moved his muscle ridden body into James’ vicinity, “Is this the climber’s kid?” the brute eyed James with his arms folded in front of him.
“Yeah, this is him. He’s about to jump aren’t you James?” said the woman, now standing up from his harness.
James fumbled with words, but looking at the both of them he noticed that they had a mix of proudness and excitement spewed across their faces, “Yes,” he finally said, “yes I am.” With this he turned and walk six paces from the hole. He spun around slowly, closed his eyes and breathed, it felt like he stood there for ages but when he opened his eyes he realised it had merely been few seconds. He glanced to where his flamboyant principal, still donned in a purple, feathered hat was talking to Butterspring’s mayor, who was laughing at a joke Lockhart had just told and was toasting him. His attention turned back to the brute and the woman who were looking eagerly at him. He started at a slow jog before breaking into a full sprint, he held the wire attached to his belt in his right hand, which was stretched out behind him so he wouldn’t get tangled and rip himself in half.
He reached the edge and threw himself off, the freefall already messing with his insides, he turned midair so that he would move in the direction of his swing. He flew closer and closer to the other edge and he had to straighten out so that he wouldn't hit the ledge. He went out further and further before he clicked the latch on his harness and felt the rope go taut, he was now underneath the island and begging to swing the other way. Glancing up he could see the brute laughing and the woman seemed impressed where the rest of the school was simply staring at him, whether they were on the ground below or standing around the gaping hole above him. He let his swing take him back up towards the other side of the hole, he was far enough down however that he didn’t hit the underbelly of the floating terrain he was hanging from. Lockhart had raced to the edge of the hole to look down for his thought to be dead student and let out a sigh of relief when he saw the boy swinging back into view. The principal raised his half empty wine glass to the boy dangling under him. James started to let himself slide further down the wire, eager to reach the ground below him. While sliding down the seemingly never ending rope James gazed out at the blue hazed mountains that blocked Butterspring from off from the rest of Nomada, they towered up above the humble floating town, which is why James could only see The King’s Stretch from Dermot’s flying pickup truck.
The boy hit the soft grass rather smoothly before looking up at the distance he had just travelled to see more students making their slow descent. Only a few other pupils were down here with him, along with Madam Finch who was trying to do a roll call but finding it difficult because the sixteen year old school kids were fluttering about oohing and ahhing about all the simplest things that lay around them. James unclipped his harness, fixed his bag straps, and had his name marked off by a thankful history teacher who explained how far he was allowed to travel without supervision, he nodded in response and set off. A forest lay to the east, next to the mountains that kept out the view of the rest of the land, giving off the feeling that there was nothing more past there. James had lied about forgetting the excursion, he simply needed a little more time to pack supplies. Making his way towards a large hill he looked back to find Madam Finch still distracted by all the other students, this was his chance.

He sprinted and ducked behind the hill so he was out of sight from the rest of the school, lying on his back he brang his bag out in front of him and retrieved the gloves from inside. He detached one of the straps from his bag, found the hidden zipper on it and revealed his knife sitting in its sheath, he connected the other strap to where the first one was to turn his backpack into a shoulder bag. He strapped his knife to his belt, pulled his bag on, and fixed his flat cap and set off for the forest. He reached the edge of the trees and gazed up at the mountains just on the other side, he was going to The King’s Stretch, whether he was allowed to or not. Brandishing his knife he cut through the small vegetation that sat in front of him, he stepped past it and made his way through the trees, making notches in the trunks every ten or so metres.The woods became thicker, the sun disappearing behind the impenetrable patchwork of leaves and branches. He came across a small river which parted the forest with a small curve that disappeared behind another bank further downstream, luckily there was a large, barkless tree that lay across the gushing waters. Approaching the white skinned tree James noticed that the grass had taken hold of both its ends and fastened them to the ground making a smooth curved ramp, perfectly blending so that the tree and ground seemed as one. He stepped up onto the wood and this was when he noticed the carvings, stretching along the length of the natural bridge, etched by hand and depicting people, pattern, and landmarks.
Weighing up on how long he had left he decided he’d have a look at the pictographic tree on his way back, it seemed to have something to do with Butterspring. Hopping off at the other side he glanced a warning carved into the wood, he noticed the Gaelic lettering but couldn’t work most of it out as his attention went out the window in Language classes, he could however make out the words ‘those’, ‘travel’, and ‘safety’. What he didn’t notice was that they were carved so the tops of the letters faced away from the direction he’d appeared from. He tightened his bag strap and kept moving, changing his direction ever so slightly so that he was now facing the gap between two of the mountains that rose above the trees. About an hour had passed from when he entered the forest until he came bursting out of the foliage into a small clearing next to the mountain range. James looked left and right, taking in the expanse of the stone giants, he stepped forward to start the climb up and over the side of the mountain when his foot hit a small rock. He looked down to find a small trail of them leading off and around behind a small outcrop, following them he realised that they were getting closer and closer together, and when he reached the edge of the outcrop he found a sign post. On an arrow pointing towards the valley under the floating islands it read ButterSpring, another, pointing the opposite way had The King’s Landing written on it, there was another sign lying on the ground covered in moss, James kicked off enough of the flora to find the name Humperdink painted in gold. He’d never heard of the place and since the sign seemed rotten and derelict he decided it wasn’t worth his time.
He looked to his right past the outcrop, in the direction the sign was pointing, to find an unkempt and weed strewn cobblestone path leading in between two of the mountains, at the end of this sat…. nothing. There seemed simply be orange ground and blue sky for the rest of eternity, it was breathtaking. James, wide eyed and excited at this outcome, bounded off down the pathway, the smooth stone walls cut from the mountains rising above him and the falling and flattening out to reveal the large empty expanse of, “The King’s Stretch” James muttered silently to himself. Since he had taken that small path he had spared an hour or so, which he could now use exploring and mapping the desert expanse in his journal, he now had three hours to himself before he had to make his way back to the islands, where hopefully no one would be any the wiser. He emptied his bag and pulled out a small sketchbook, a pencil, and a notched ruler which had seen better days. He spent the first hour perfectly sketching the near barren horizon, however if you looked close enough, like James had, you could make out the wrecks of rusted crafts and the seemingly empty shell of an old gas station.
Then he walked along the edge of the wastes for the second, kicking rocks and climbing over some dead trees, he climbed the only living one he found to get a better view. He squinted into the distance, taking in all of the small outcrops and dead bushes that dotted the barren landscape, then he saw it, perhaps only a kilometer or so out, it was moving around and picking things up. It seemed humanoid in form, if you left out the disk-like head that sat upon its thin neck. The robot, as that was James’ best guess a what it was, bent over again to pick something else up and eyed it for a while before putting it back down and turning around to walk parallel to the mountains behind James, who was starting to climb down from his vantage point. He left his pack on the ground where the cobblestone path ended and ran out to the wandering tin can, still with his knife clipped to his belt, that had stopped again to gaze out at the horizon looking for something. As James neared it he noticed how heavily rusted it was, as it was indeed a robot, it’s single round camera lens eye scanning the area for whatever it was looking for.
He approached it from behind but it must of heard him coming as it turned around when he was within about five meters from it, however there seemed to be no recognition in it’s lens that there was someone standing in front of it and so it walked blankly past him to pick up a bottle cap that had sunk slightly beneath the earth. There was a silence that followed this as James was confused, he decided to be the one who broke the silence, “Um, excuse me…,” the robot didn’t respond, “Ah, hello,” this time James walked up and tapped the back of it’s head, this finally got its attention as it turned slowly around to look at the sixteen year old boy that was standing in front of it. The lens zoomed in and out for a while, focusing on his face, before the robot started to talk, “Hello,” it said in a calm voice, as if it wasn’t standing in a desert but instead in a civilised area from pre-closure times, “may I help you?” It said staring at James with it’s head at a slight angle to give an innocent feeling.
“Ah, what’s your name?” asked the quizzical boy, the robot sounded as though it had laughed in response.
“Terrence, that’s my name,” it responded staring at the ground as if in thought of if that really was it, then suddenly Terrence looked up, “And what’s your name?”
“James, my name is James,” he was warming up to the stranger and after realising this he stepped back and started to become a little more weary of how easily the robot had started to fool him. The robot’s somehow soft gaze still sat on his face.
“I ask again, may I help you?” Terrence’s voiced seemed almost gruff, but James shook it off as either bad programming or weather damage.
“I was just- I guess, wondering,” James rubbed the back of his head, “where did you come from exactly?”
“A manufacturing line in-” his voice broke a little as he said the name of where he came from, “But that was a very, very long time ago. Now is there anything else? I am kind of busy at the moment?”
“Ah, no I guess not,” James started to make his way back to his bag, the truth was that he had more questions then answers, he glanced back every now and then while he was walking back. He strapped his bag back up and replaced his knife in it’s hidden compartment before turning to survey the desert once more, making sure he hadn’t forgotten or missed anything, Terrence was still aimlessly walking around not doing much at all. Happy with how things were James decided to head home early, maybe he would even explore the valley underneath Butterspring with the other students for a while. With one last look of The King’s Stretch he made his way back down the rough cobblestone path and into the forest.

A few more minutes past, his mind still back on the edge of the expanse of red dirt that seemingly travelled for eternity, when he heard the rushing of the river up ahead and it appeared from around the branch of a large, ancient oak tree which looked like it had seen better days. James made his way over to the makeshift log bridge, he decided to take a little more notice to the carvings now, he jumped over the Gaelic warning and watch a tale of war, journey, and rebuilding roll out on the unbarked tree. A particular image caught his eye, it showed a warrior of a woman standing on a hill, rays of sunlight bursting out from behind her, she carried her helmet under her right arm, her left was pointing a large sword forwards as if indicating something to the carvings of people behind her. James moved a little further along the log until he was about half way along, here he saw a man with the head of an elk and a large bow standing in a forested area, opposite this, on the other side of the log, there was a giant of a man whom looked almost robotic. This giant robot seemed to be wading through the waters of a lake, he held a spear in one hand, his other hung beside him. There was many more carvings, those of a city in disrepair, a gleaming castle with large battlements, and caves which had been scratched over, hiding the details, obviously someone didn’t want others to know of this place all to well.
James stood up and made his way to the other side of the bank where he saw another carving in the log, this one was of Butterspring, the many, many islands floating above the rolling hills of the valley beneath, he smiled at this before walking down the grassy slope that blended the ornamental log with the land that it lay upon. He took the brisk walk of ten or so minutes through the forest, following the notches he’d made in the trunks, before coming back out on the other side of the hill he had been hiding behind only three hours ago. He walked back over and into the center of the valley where the brute he’d last seen beaming proudly down at him from the island sat laughing with the lady who had strapped him into his harness earlier. He approached them, keeping his eye on the number of students who were either walking around or crouched over a plant of some kind, he noticed two students, a boy with messy hair and an untidy uniform and a girl with short cut hair and a nice dress, guiding each other over a hill to where they’d have some more privacy. The two climbers who sat surrounded by crates of climbing equipment and rigging seemed happy to see him, “Ahh, finally an interesting child,” boomed the brute, “And did you find your trip to the ground satisfying?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. The woman took a swig of whatever was lurking in the depths of her cup.
“I think we ought to start rounding the squirts up. It’s getting late and i’m sure the school would appreciate the students being back at a reasonable hour. You wanna go first?” She asked picking up a cable and motioning towards James. He took it and clipped it to a harness he’d slipped himself into, “Enjoy the flight,” smiled the brute as he pushed a button on a small control panel and James flew upwards towards the heavens. He enjoyed the rush of the wind on his face as he neared the island which held Edgeview on it’s gum tree ridden plains, he was greeted by an almost bored looking principal Lockhart and an emotionless Ms Generva who swung him back onto solid ground from the crane-like machine his rope was threaded through. Lockhart was smiling again, glad to see him alive and well, he guided James off and around to a door leading back into the school where he could discard of any extra equipment he no longer needed. Because of the excursion to the ground the school had decided to leave the other journey to The Tropic until tomorrow, other than that the students were given an early mark and allowed to head home whenever the chose to.
James decided to leave early while he had the chance, fixing his bag straps and heading out the front gates and towards the islands tram stop and boarding the transport that would lead him home. He enjoyed the trams, the were rustic, the red paint had started to fade giving it an aged look, the tram picked itself up on the wire connecting it between island and with a jolt he was moving towards home. James was the only passenger, he sat on a wooden bench which had been bolted to the wall and gazed out of the grubby window at the various floating islands that hung silently in the air, undisturbed. He let his mind float back to Terrence, back to the infinite of The King’s Stretch he had felt at home there in the serenity, the time seemed to fly as the tram was just settling into the station back on WestRock. James thanked the operator and jumped down onto the hard soil beneath his feet, he realised that it was only four hours or so that he had been standing here watching the tram take off without him. He looked over to where a large neon sign, that wasn’t glowing at the moment due to it being broad daylight, read O’Sullivan’s Flying Autobodies, the owner, donned in grey overalls, was bent over the open bonnet of his truck. James decided that he could spare the time as his father would still be at work, his mother would be in the markets, and only the eleventh year students were allowed to leave school early. He walked over to the grease covered man, “How are you Mr O’Su- I mean Sully?” Sully stood up and wiped his rough hands on his overalls and smiling at the boy walking up to him.
“I’m doin’ well, and how was the valley down below? Don’t act like the mayor wouldn’t ‘ave made a huge announcement as a few of ya were scaling the ropes.” James faltered at this, he had considered telling Sully about his little side journey but remembered that Sully was the one who had warned him not to go out there.
“It was, er, uneventful I guess. There were some plants, trees and some pretty cool flowers,” he lied, “But other than that not much else happened really.” He shrugged to finish it off.
“Well than, maybe next time it’ll be a little more interesting. Now you best to head home so you don’t get yer’self into any trouble.” James said goodbye and started to follow the rough cobblestone path back up through the village, his house appeared from around a corner, the second story rooms jutting out at odd angles making the house seem like it was being held up by an invisible support structure, or maybe even magic. He reached the front door and open cleaned his shoes on the welcome mat before going inside and taking off his flat cap. He threw his bag down next to the stairs leading up to his room, “What did you get up to today Gran?” he asked the ancient woman who sat reading in a comfy looking chair situated in one of the corners.
“Oooh nothing much really,” she replied looking up from her book, a smile starting to spread across her face, “what about you sweetie?”
“Well the valley was pretty cool i guess, it was kind of boring over all though. Practicing climbing with dad helped a little though.” He started making his way up the stairs to his room. He opened the door and let out a sigh of relief, no one knew he had gone off on a little adventure of his own. He dressed into some other clothes and unpacked his bag putting his sketch book and drawing equipment back into his cupboard and his knife back onto his desk. James pulled off his shoes then his socks, the greatest feeling in the world he believed, and headed back downstairs to get himself a drink. He jumped the last step on the stairs and walked over to the fridge when he heard his grandma, still sitting in her reading chair behind him, ask, “So, did you like the log or the desert better?” at this he spilled his milk all the way down his front and turned to the old grinning woman with bulging eyes and cheeks full of unspilled milk.