Disclaimer: Don't own it.
Wow! So many reviews! Thanks everyone!
I'm not really satisfied with this chapter; I may revise it later. But it gets us almost to Shiz, at least. That's where the fun always starts. :D
I spent the next few years dreaming of escape. In my spare time I studied—books, magazines, anything I could get my hands on. I must have read a thousand dusty tomes from my father's library, and enjoyed nearly as many.
It was in these books that I discovered with awe the name for what I had done that night with my mattress—magic. I didn't believe it at first. But the stories and descriptions were so similar to my own experience that I finally had to accept it. And then I began to learn.
According to my reading, there were two types of magic: magic that could be strictly controlled and made to do anything at any time, and a wilder, more mysterious kind of magic that was fueled by strong emotion. I possessed the second.
My kind of magic….well, it had limits. What I read and believed was that it could affect only the user and her surroundings—not other people. At least, not directly.
I found ways around that. When, on a dark night, I heard footsteps on my stairs, I could not wish for the person to change their course or fall….but I could wish for the stairs to become covered in slippery grease and slime.
Clever, I suppose. But that's not to say I was always successful. For the magic to come, there had to be driving emotion (in my case, usually fear), and yet enough presence of mind to direct it when it came, to fuse power with intention. The balance was difficult to achieve at first, and I endured many a blow as a result of my frequent failures.
But something was different about my magic; something didn't quite fit what I'd read. The more I used my power, the more readily it came to me. There were times when I could feel it tingling in my fingertips, waiting to be called. As I improved, it became….almost too easy, easier than it should have been. Dangerously easy. On nothing more than a powerful whim, my subconscious could order a chair to fly, a flame to spread, a chandelier to fall….often without the consent or approval of my conscience. Accidents happened; nothing serious—yet—but the potential was there. It was a frightening sort of freedom, one that I wasn't quite sure what to do with.
But I digress.
Years passed, slowly. When I was nineteen, I read in a scavenged newspaper about a prince who'd just been accepted to a place called Shiz—Shiz University. The prince I dismissed as inconsequential, but the university peaked my interest. For the next few weeks, I kept my eyes peeled.
As one of my many chores, I collected the mail each morning. When I thought I could get away with it, I dawdled for just long enough to sort through the stack of envelopes before surrendering them to Father. This was routine and nothing came of it most days….but one such morning made me glad, for the first time in my life, that I had a sister.
Three years my junior, Nessarose was spoiled and cruel. But she was also smart, and the heir to my father's position as governor of Munchkinland—an asset to any university. Colleges had been trying to recruit her for years.
And there in my hand was an invitation from none other than Shiz University.
I don't know how long I stared. Footsteps brought me back to myself, and I stuffed the pamphlet down my dress, deposited the rest of the mail into my father's waiting hand, and fled to my attic to hide my treasure until it was safe to enjoy it.
That night I poured over the pages of the brochure, reading what was there and dreaming of what was not. The picture I painted in my mind was the most wonderful place I could imagine—a place where green skin was forgivable, where roofs didn't leak, and where I wouldn't have to scrub floors till my hands bled. A place far away from father and his beatings.
I had exactly two months till term started.
I returned to my escape plans with feverish purpose; I was no longer merely running from something, but to something as well. In my frenzy, I was able to summon a map from father's library, and through the maze of spidery red lines I sketched the quickest path to Emira, where I would find work to pay for tuition. Shiz was located on the far edge of the city, close to Oz's capital.
Not five minutes after choosing my route, I had stuffed everything I owned, as well as two of Father's books and the invitation, into a small satchel. Gathering my courage took a little longer.
The next night, I ran. I shouldered my bag, stole a handful of gold from the treasury, and left. I dared not take a horse, for fear my father would notice its absence and send the police after me.
I had never been more than a few yards from our mansion—or rather Father's mansion, as all that belonged to me was the attic. I didn't know where to rent a horse or a carriage, and I was too easily recognizable to stop and ask for help; green skin does that to a person.
After a few miles of wandering, I sat down to rest. Even though my feet ached, even though the rain had soaked me through, and even though I saw my father around every turn, I felt lighter than I ever had before. I smiled up at the pitch-black sky.
I was free.