Category : Stories

Sub Category : Fantasy

Somewhere, on the other side of the gate, my parents are living their lives. Naturally, I’ve never met them, but I like to think they are good people. I try not to think about the fact that my parents allowed me to be taken away from them, just like every other child, which should automatically take them out of the running for “good people.” Still, of all the people I have grown to know, I have always been the “optimistic one,” which isn’t saying all that much.
The girl that raised me till I could fend for myself, Nena (we don’t have last names on this side of the gate), would be on the other side of the gate by now, except that she is dead. She is on the other side, but not the other side of the gate that I have come to know so well. I owe her my life, she is the reason I have survived to see my 16th year, but Nena will never come to collect now.
It has been 8 years since Nena died, just before her 17th birthday and the highest freedom that comes with it, and since then I have moved on from the shed we called home in Sector 15. I have never met someone to love as much as I loved Nena, but she left someone behind, someone other than me. With this someone I’ve found companionship and comfort.
Venetia and I never stay in one place for long, it is too dangerous, especially for her. Sector 22 is our home for now: a dirty, lawless, desolate place much like sector 15. Any day could be our last day in the abandoned adobe house we’re holed up, any day now we could move on. We keep mainly to ourselves to hold onto a semblance of safe haven, but it never lasts. For today, though, we will stay as we are. Trusting anyone is dangerous, more dangerous than any Sector, but I trust Venetia. Venetia is much younger than I, half my age maybe, but she is as much a grown up as I am. On this side of the wall: growing up is the only way.
I don’t know all that much about the world, but there are things Nena taught me, things she learned from the kid before her who learned from the kid before. Our history was spread and twisted down a line of generations, now what is known has reached me. For as long as anyone can remember, which is not that long, a wall has divided us from another world. I can only imagine what this world is like, as anyone over 17 always disappears to the other side without a trace, presumably until our own time comes.
We are told that this side of the wall is a test and surviving to adolescence is passing. In truth, the whole thing is a bullshit excuse for abandoning children. Survival is a gamble. Only those of us lucky enough to be found by an older kid, older but still too young to play parent, have a real chance of making it out alive. The wall that takes us from our parents and the safety net of adults as infants is not a test of strength, it’s a sick and barbaric game played for god knows who. I only hope that my parents didn’t choose to willingly give me away, that no parent would do that, but I know in my heart it’s wishful thinking.
Today is just like any other day: Venetia and I scrounge for food while always staying near our current abode to avoid any unwanted passerby’s. There is rarely enough scrounging to keep our entire days in and days out occupied, so we keep ourselves busy however we can. On this particular day, I sit braiding Venetia’s gorgeous auburn hair on the dusty dirt floors of the “kitchen.” I’m not very good at braiding, but it fills our time and Venetia is amazing. She would look pretty if I gave her a rat tail. While I braid, we discuss next moves. We had only been living in Sector 22 for a few weeks, but we were already getting antsy. Rumor had it a rebellion was forming here, and if I had any faith it would succeed, I might join in, but I didn’t. Venetia may be grown up, but she was my responsibility, and I’d learned early on that to stay alive, we needed to stay hidden, blurred lines on the edge of vision.
I tied the finishing knot at the end of my braid handiwork. Venetia wanted to see it, but there were no mirrors allowing her to do so. After I’d exhausted the few braids I knew how to do, we journeyed outside into the heat. It was the time of year when nature grew hot and stifling, but today was a rare day. The heat was there, but we didn’t feel suffocated. We lay down in the wild grass that grew up so tall from the ground it appeared to extend into the sky. There were many white mushrooms in the sky, among them Venetia found a rabbit and I found a cupcake. I did not know what a cupcake was really, only that I recalled seeing a picture of it in a book once. There are unusual spots on this side of the wall filled with objects I imagine inhabit the other side of the wall too, perhaps left behind from a time before the wall altogether. Books are by far my favorite discovery, Venetia’s too.
Our current residence had hidden away in a cupboard in the floor a particularly drawing book about a kingdom in a far away place where a princess was whisked away by a handsome prince. The book was soggy and faded, like it had once been fully submerged in a body of water, but some of the pictures were still legible enough to feed our imaginations. Venetia and I thrived for these discoveries.
As you can tell, the biggest problem with gazing into the sky is that it gives me a lot of time to ponder all the things banging around inside of me. Worries and stresses are common in life, a sensation that becomes like a friend, but not one I like or trust. My biggest conundrum on this day was my impending birthday. Soon I would turn 17, the age when we were magically whisked away to the other side of the gate, although I had a theory all that was waiting for me was death. For a long time, I longed for the day of my 17th year, the year I might finally unravel the enigma surrounding the other side of the wall, maybe find my parents. But now I have Venetia, I had Nena once too. Both are more my family than my real family could ever be, that much I’m sure of.
However, more than anything else, I wonder whether the society waiting for me, a society bartering off children to fend for themselves in a world of chaos, is really a society worth being a part of. My name is Darla Clarity, and I have a feeling I will live to see the other side of the world and whatever it holds, whether I want to or not. As my mood grows worrisome I look back to the sky, where I notice the white mushrooms have turned gray.