Chapter one
Clarke
I woke up in a strange place. The colors and sizes were different. I was in a field of light pink grass. Around me there stood small trees (no bigger than six inches), tall flowers (fifty to one hundred feet tall), and tall grass (six to seven feet). The trees were neon blue with hot pink leaves and bright purple fruit. The flowers had white stems, black petals, and had red splatter covering them. The tall grass was orange and had a diameter of about three inches. The sky was green. The color green the leaves on trees usually are. The sky was filled with neon yellow clouds. The clouds formed shapes, and appeared to be solid. Where am I? I tried to remember where I was before I woke up here. I couldn't so I decided to think of what I could remember. My name is Clarke Griffin. I turn eighteen in a month. My favorite color is green. No matter how hard I tried, I could not remember anything else.
Suddenly the clouds turned a muddy brown and dark purple lightning flashed through the sky. Oh no, a storm! Rain started pouring down. I soon realized the rain wasn't water, it was chocolate milk! What a strange place this is. I looked around again. Animals had come out of hiding to be in the rain. The animals were very strange. There was a rabbit in a top hat holding a glass cup out, collecting the chocolate milk rain. There was a caterpillar sitting on a mushroom (that wasn't there before), holding a leaf umbrella over its head, smoking a pipe. There was a purple and blue cat sitting under one of the flowers reading a book. The flowers were facing down now, so their faces wouldn't get wet. Flowers with faces? The flowers were now whispering to one another. What could flowers have to talk about?
"What is your name child?" one of them asked looking at me. She had a white face with big brown eyes with wrinkles around them, and red lips pushed into a thin line. She did not look happy.
"C-C-C-C-Clarke," I said stuttering.
"Clarke? Hmm Clarke! A strong name. A GOOD name. Clarke." Another flower said. I don't like the way he says my name. I hope he doesn't say it again.
"She must meet the queen!" a third flower said quickly and excitedly. The other flowers looked at her and started whispering again. I want to get out of here. I don't want to meet their queen. I'm scared.
A boy about my age grabbed my hand. I jumped surprised.
"Come," he whispered, "I'll get you out of here." I quickly followed him. We had walked for about an hour when we came to a very tall, colorful fence.
"Welcome to Camp. I'm Miller," the boy, Miller, said.
"Clarke," I said without stuttering this time.
"Right this way Clarke," Miller said putting his arm around me leading me into camp. Maybe I could get used to this place. Maybe.