Fanficcing, indeed... All rights belong to Lois Lowry and not me. :-)
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My Only Companion
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Marie made sounds from deep in her throat as she fed Cecelia. The little One giggled at the funny noise, pointing one pudgy finger at her mother. Marie grinned back and patted her child on her thick curls, swinging Cecelia in her arms.
Marie was a Birthmother. She'd wanted to be one all her life, from the time she'd been a tiny Six learning her first letters. Then, finally, she'd gotten the job, exactly fifteen years ago from this very day. The Committee of Elders had chosen Marie's job as a Birthmother because, according to them, she was a nice person; she tended to be lazy at times. Personally speaking, Marie had never agreed with them, but she'd always respected their opinion.
Peace had reigned for Marie until that dreadful day two years ago, when the Committee of Elders had sent a woman to snatch her first child away. She had been devastated - even though she had called her little newchild Jeffrey, the Committee had renamed him Fenton. Ugh. Fenton. Such an ugly name. Marie shivered even at the thought. The Council had given Jeffrey to a new family, and in their eyes, that had been that.
So, here she was, second newchild into the business, but she knew that after her third child, the dream would be shattered. Then she would have to be a Labourer until she went to the House of the Old, bruised, battered, and thoroughly unsatisfied with her life.
Marie sincerely hoped that the Committee would let her keep Cecelia, but she knew that was impossible. So, even as she hugged her darling little One, Marie was planning. Her brain was working rapidly, skimming through ten possible options ever five minutes, trying to think up ways to rescue Cecelia and convince the members of the Community to give birth to their own children. She felt as if she was in a maze, with a hundred different possibilities to choose, but only one way out. She would not stop. Marie had Cecelia and many other babies to save. It did not help that she had also been snatched from her real parents as a newchild.
Marie bent down to the crib she had been supplied with when she'd given birth to Jeffrey and carefully tucked Cecelia in, smoothing the female One's wild and springy hair back behind her ears. The miniscule eyes fluttered, and then closed as she soundly fell asleep.
Marie stood up and sighed. Birthmothers weren't allowed to bring their newchildren home, but she knew that if she had to reenact her plan, it was the only way. Marie stared regretfully at the sleeping child before turning tail and exiting the Birthing Annex. She would do it tomorrow. She didn't want to put the little Cecelia in danger.
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It was the next day. Marie had Cecelia bundled up in a pile of faded clothes she was carrying in her arms. The newchild had not stirred once as Marie made the careful transition from crib to bundle and was dozing peacefully, her head sticking up slightly from the pale cloth.
Marie grinned determinedly at her daughter, more to reassure herself than Cecelia as whipped around out of the Birthing Annex and out of the building entirely. She had waited until the last possible moment. I t was a risky business and she knew it -perfectly well. Marie was determined. She knew that the Community had undergone a great change before she was born, and she planned to find out what it was.
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Marie shifted Cecelia slightly in her arms, planting a kiss on the top of her daughter's forehead. She walked determinedly across the silent streets, watching the people that flitted like shadows to their friends and families. They were talking politely to each other, though Marie felt like an outcast in this world - she just didn't know why. But she did know that there was something missing in this world - in this cold, drab, gray world where even trees and plants had to bend unto the laws and rules of the Community and were given no choice to be free.
She made her way over to her house, up the stairs, and into the sleepingroom she shared with her spouse, Jaime. Marie carefully deposited the sleeping Cecelia into a basket she had set up on the nightstand, pulling the blanket up around her newchild's small figure. Cecelia woke up suddenly, her pale eyes flipping open and lighting up with pleasure. She sat up in the basket, holding up her hands.
Marie played clapping games with her daughter until she heard the familiar sounds of Jaime coming up the walkway that led to her house. Marie had been laughing until her skin had darkened and made her whole frame glow with a radiant inner light. As soon as the sound of Jaime's shoes came plodding up the asphalt walkway, she hid Cecelia, allowing only her nose and eyes to stick out from underneath the fabric.
"Marie." Jaime was getting closer, she could tell. Hurriedly, Marie pressed herself against the basket, so that it looked like she was leaning casually against the nightstand.
"Marie - they've found out where Cecelia has gone. The Council of Elders has found out your secret."
She stared at her spouse, her jaw dropping open in shock. Jaime was tall, almost six feet in reality, with wavy pale hair and big dark eyes. His words echoed numbly in her mind. The Council of Elders has found your secret. She did the only possible thing - she turned, grabbed Cecelia, and ran.
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Marie ran as fast as she could out of the house, her long hair whipping and snapping, thanks to the momentum issued by her flailing feet. She was pounding the ground with all her might, her shoes carrying off the pavement and away from the Community. Marie was holding Cecelia tightly in her hands, enough so that the small, light bundle was invisible from behind. Her hair streamed behind her like a thick, glossy banner as she ran away from the life she had known, the life where she'd felt an outcast, the life before. It was the end of one world, and the beginning of another.
"You're my only companion," Marie whispered to Cecelia as her feet thrashed the asphalt. She hugged her newchild tight.
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Marie's feet carried her as fast as she could go over the drab gray pavement, until she stumbled over her leg and tripped on the pavement. She was a crumpled figure on the asphalt, the shell of a person, to be retrieved and brought back by the Council of Elders. They would release her, she knew it. Then she would go to Elsewhere; she hoped it was peaceful there, with no more evil societies to steal her newchildren from her. Marie hoped on, unbeknownst to the fact that the blackness was clouding her vision as she crumpled to the pavement, her body battered, her mission failed. Just one second on the verge of unconsciousness, she noticed something. It was colour.
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Marie's blue eyes opened slowly. She sat up in the nice, soft bed, taking her time to drink in her surroundings. She was in somebody's sleepingroom, but this one was different. Instead of the plain furniture that had decorated the rooms of the Community, this furniture was more vibrant, more alive. Marie turned her head slowly. There was a thick stone tunnel carved into the wall that curved upward, the entrance coated with thick black soot. In it, a forbidden fire was blazing and roaring, warm and friendly compared to the drab existence she had known. She perceived the word fireplace- but where had it come from? Her head was pounding - she felt like she had a horrible headache.
The door swung open, and Marie watched in petrified amazement as an old, shambling figure entered the small room. He shuffled along and sat down opposite her. As she studied the old man's features; the white beard that obscured the lower half of his face, the wise blue eyes radiating warmth and kindness, the wrinkles etched into his face as if by a sculptor with painstaking accuracy, Marie noticed something. She now had a new ability, a power to see things in different shades than black and gray. It was - she perceived another word - colour.
"I see you have come," the old man said with a smile. "Just as I expected."
"What happened?" Marie asked, running a hand through her hair -which, she noticed now, was russet-red, the colour of apples in autumn - "Where's Cecelia?"
The old man explained. "She is sleeping in the other room," he said, gesturing vaguely with his thick, blue-veined hand. "I know who you are, Marie," he continued gently, reaching out a hand to place it on her shoulder. "Do you?"
She shook her head slowly. "I don't know who my real parents are, if that's what you mean."
"Your father is Jonas, the last Receiver of Memory in over twenty years," the man said. "He was my pupil, and I his mentor."
"Jonas?" The name sounded familiar to her, as if she had heard it before - but she hadn't, of course. And yet...
"He escaped the Community to make the world a better place, to make things as they once were." He rubbed her shoulder warmly. "He was your father, Marie. Think about and choose how you want to live: in a half-life without colour, smell, or music-or on a mission to help them discover the true meaning of life."
Marie smiled, thinking of Cecelia. "I now know my true identity," she said, bravely. "I will rebuild a new life for the Community. I am going to save the world."
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