According to history books, Earth’s population used to be seventy-seven percent bigger. Huge cities dotted the planet – cities without walls around them – filled with more people than I can even imagine. Magic only existed in stories, and the scariest monsters in the night were other people.
I never knew that Earth.
That world ended fifty-five years ago when the black arches appeared. They were Gates to another dimension that unleashed indestructible monsters. It took less than a year for Earth’s population to drop from seven and a half billion to less than three billion. And a new breed of humans manifested. Hunters. Super powered people who risked life and limb every day to protect Earth’s remaining population from the monsters. But even those godly people couldn’t turn the tables on a losing battle.
I never knew that Earth, either. The era of superhuman Hunters ended thirty-five years ago on a grave day when more monsters than ever invaded the world. Cities fell. Earthquakes tore continents apart. And, somehow, the Gates to the other dimensions closed. What was left behind was a broken world and traumatized people. Whole countries had been wiped off the face of the earth and the ones that were left are still picking up the pieces even now, in my time.
Governments were adjusting to the new normal, and people slowly ventured out to rebuild and repopulate abandoned places.
And the Hunters? Their original godly powers were cut in half. No one knew why.
Though communities have been rebuilt, some governments were restored, and life found a way to thrive — my world ended eight years ago, when I was ten. I didn’t even really remember that night well. I remember a bright light and a soft hug. A monster’s hungry growls. Mom’s horrible screaming. And her gentle hand on my cheek as she whispered that it was going to be okay.
I never thought I’d live in Colorado again, yet here I was. Considering I spent my entire childhood here and had visited a couple times since, I thought I would feel more at home when I stepped out from behind the wheel of my family’s dirty, bug-splattered small SUV. But … ah.
The late spring air was cool and fresh. Probably because Mist Haven was built in the canyon of the Rocky Mountains. There were tall, evergreen trees everywhere. Not the Christmas kind that are bushy and symmetrical, but the huge ones with random branches that don’t start until almost halfway up the trunk. To the west, I could see just a glimmer of the Baker Reservoir, the same color as the blue sky. Mountains surrounded the town and lake, reaching into the sky like a giant dragon maw. And watching from above were the twin moons, like white pearls in a bright blue velvet.
Dad hopped down from the driver’s side of the rental moving truck parked next to me and slammed the door shut. After driving ten hours, plus a two hour delay when a giant Sand Serpent buried the interstate under a small mountain of sand, he looked as tired as I felt. Gray hairs bled into his thinning tawny stands and took over his two-day stubble. But his green eyes were bright with excitement, despite the huge black bags under them. “Well, what do you think, Ria? Our new home sweet home.” He grinned at me and motioned to the house on the other side of the large lawn.
Technically speaking, it wasn’t bad. It was great, even. The blue split level house was obviously big enough for our family of three. A plus, considering the cramped three bedroom apartment we used to live in. Someone had cleaned up the yard and done some renovations on the outside of the house recently. Another plus.
The original population that built this town died when the Gates opened up a half century ago. What was left was a bunch of buildings that sat abandoned for a couple decades before someone decided to buy and resettle this tiny (originally tourist) town. Most of the people that moved here simply chose from the already existing houses. They either left them as is, fixed them up, or tore them down and rebuilt. The latter was the most expensive, since getting materials out here wasn’t easy. But money wasn’t a problem in Mist Haven.
Most of the residents were Hunters, and most Hunters were rich. The ones that weren’t were already dead, because they weren’t strong enough to cut it.
Micah jumped out of the passenger side of the moving truck. As a growing twelve-year-old snot wad, he was all gangly limbs and a cracking voice. While I took after Dad with tawny hair and green eyes, Micah got Mom’s dark brown hair and blue eyes. Most people had to look hard to tell we were siblings. Some days, I couldn’t tell if that was a good or a bad thing.
Micah slapped at the chip crumbs clinging to his black basketball shorts and walked over to Dad. “This is it, huh? Does the plumbing even work?”
Dad looked at me for encouragement.
“It looks great.” My face stretched in an unnatural smile.
Dad sighed. “Yes, the plumbing works. Your uncle had it fixed up before we got out here. Just the basics, mind you, but I figured we could add the personal stuff after we settled in.”
I looked around the street. Most of the houses were still empty and falling apart, but they all had the same look to them – craftsman style split level homes.
“Is this what our old house looked like, too?” Micah wondered out loud.
A heavy air settled over us, despite the warm early summer sun overhead.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
My gut twisted painfully until I was ready to throw up the peanut butter sandwich I had for late lunch. That’s why I didn’t want to move back to Colorado. I wasn’t ready to see that building again. I doubted I’d ever be ready.
Micah froze. “Ah, I mean. I thought it would be cool to see our old house…” His voice cracked more than ever before it finally died out.
After a suffocating minute, Dad cleared his throat and hurried back into the moving truck. “Hang on, I forgot the keys in the truck. I got three keys, one for each of us…” He continued to prattle on as he dug through the snack trash in the truck’s cab.
Only half listening to him, I bumped Micah’s shoulder with my elbow. He was getting too tall to whack him in the head anymore – too much effort to lift my arm that high. I was not looking forward to the day that he grew taller than me. He’d never let me live that down. “Hey,” I said, “Dad’s really excited about this. Don't shoot him down. Especially since we’re here for you.”
God, what a hypocrite I was. What right did I have to say that, especially when I fully planned to ruin Dad’s happily laid plans tomorrow?
Micah’s mouth screwed to the side. I could practically see his mind cranking, trying to come up with a comeback. Finally, with a deadpan expression, he turned a half-step towards the moving truck. “Dad! Ria touched me!”
My mouth dropped open. “You…” What the hell? “What are you, five?”
Micah immediately wailed like he was dying, “Dad! Ria breathed on me!”
“Micah, don’t think I won’t beat you someday for acting like a little shit!” Dad hollered from the cab.
Oh my god, what if our neighbors were home right now? It was dinner time, so it was possible. I mean, seriously, how great would it be to get child services called on us our first night here?
I grabbed at Micah, but he was smart enough to slip away before I could get a fistful of his shirt. He ran over to our small SUV and picked up a box full of valuables perched on the front seat just as Dad rounded the moving truck.
Dad took one look at Micah holding the box of pictures and paused. His face flushed red as his temper spiked. Then he took a deep breath and his usual tan shade returned. He pinched his brows and sighed. “Look, it’s been a long day and I’m bone tired. Let’s just go look at the house and see if the pizza place in town delivers. Okay?”
Micah immediately put the box back in the SUV. “I want meat lovers.” He ran over, like an excited puppy. Forget the adventure of a new house, that was nothing compared to food at his age.
“Nope, Hawaiian,” I argued. Although I didn’t really know why it was called a ‘Hawaiian.’ Most of the Pacific Islands sank thirty-five years ago.
As soon as Micah was in reach, I pounced. He howled as I got him in a headlock. If child services were getting called, I might as well make it worth it. Still, my hold was just as much a hug. I knew exactly why he was acting out right now. It was for me and Dad. To distract us from his ‘blunder.’
“What’s wrong with you?” he wailed and pulled at my arms. “Pineapple and pizza is disgusting!” Food also won over physical discomfort, apparently.
“Hey.” Dad bumped my shoulder, a lot like what I did to Micah earlier. “That boy needs to be in one piece for tomorrow.” He was too used to our interactions to bother pulling us apart. Dad started up the walk to the house’s front staircase. “I’ll get one of each, so don’t complain.”
I followed after Dad with Micah still in my arms. He fell into step beside me and shifted until my arm rested comfortably around his shoulders.
“Your uncle placed wards around the house.” Dad pointed to six metal bars half buried around the perimeter of our property. “Just know that the wards activate at 10 p.m. So be back by then or you’re sleeping on the street. And if you sneak out at night, I’ll know.”
Dad and Micah couldn’t, but I could clearly see a pale green shimmery glow around the metal sticks. That glow – that magic – was a familiar color and had a familiar feel. To me, it felt like love. When night came, the magic would thread together like a net connecting the ward markers. Anyone not in our family would be painfully shocked if they touched them.
“Do we really need that?” Micah asked and looked over my arm towards the town entrance. “Doesn’t this town have a wall around it already? We just drove through it. That thing was huge!”
The trees blocked the view from here. Maybe that was why there were so many trees, to hide the wall that locked all the people inside this town. Or maybe it was so people could pretend there was nothing scary past the rising tree line. But it didn’t change the fact that there was a two foot thick and twenty foot tall reinforced wall around the whole town. A magical barrier, more powerful than the one around our house, was infused into the wall. It was so strong, I thought I was going to go blind when I first looked at it.
“Nah,” Dad said lightly. “It’s just for my own peace of mind.”
My stomach twisted again. God, if this went on, I wasn’t going to be able to eat anything when the pizza got here, anyway. I let go of Micah and hurried up the stairs behind Dad.
He pushed open the door, encouraged us to check out of the house. The middle floor consisted of a smallish front room with a kitchen and dining room in the back. On the left were two staircases, one that led up to three bedrooms, and the other that stepped down to another living space, the laundry room and the entrance to the garage. A hidden staircase by the garage entrance led down to an unfinished basement. The white tile and neutral carpet throughout the house were new. Just like all the wood cabinets and stainless steel appliances were in the kitchen and bathrooms. All the walls and doors were white.
It was a blank slate. Although everything was nice, there was no character in it. No memories. No history.
Nothing like our old house in Mist Haven, a single story ranch, full of color and noise, and then tears and anguish.
Dad might have forgiven me, but … I still hadn’t.
Whether or not I could remember the details of that night eight years ago, it didn’t change the fact that I killed my mother.
*****
And I’m back! Sorry it’s been so long since I posted. I have to admit, the last year has been rough for me. Personally, I have trouble writing when my mental state isn’t good, so I had to walk away for a bit. Thank you for all the support you gave me for Mists. I hope that you will enjoy the sequel series, Waters of Memory, just as much.
And other fun news, Mists of Redemption is getting published this summer! More news on that later…