I hope you have all had a safe and meaningful Easter, my friends.
I give Special Thanks to Cyrus559, TCFactory and DayDreamer9, the three of whom volunteered to be my story consultants!
And without their help, this story would have just been shoved into stasis until further notice.
Our Girls
It was a dark and stormy night.
The thickness of the haze and the wrappings of clouds choked her, suffocated her.
No moonlight shone through.
Thunder rocked the Earth and the ground trembled beneath her.
Flashes of lightning were barely visible, but though none of it touched her, she felt every searing strike, like a whip of searing plasma, a snake with the poison of lava on its tongue.
She was also naked and the raindrops came like icicles. Every drop a stab, every stab a sting, and with every sting more agonizing cold.
She tried to cry out, to scream, to even whimper, but it seemed the insides of her body were hollow. Nothing but blackness and emptiness.
Nothing except her weak-willed consciousness.
But she started to hear whispers, though she couldn't move from her fetal position on the ground. She couldn't move or make any form of distressed noise to attract the attention of the other existing life form, who's silhouette was barely visible in the ebony smokescreen, but who's thoughts seemed to echo louder and louder in her mental prison.
Will.
Will.
Will.
Will.
"WILL!"
Wilhelmina Vandom jolted upright from her bed.
"No!" she gasped, shoulders shuddering. The door to her room opened and her mother paced in.
"Will, did you have a nightmare? Are you going to be alright?"
Her mother's amber eyes softly glowed with maternal concern.
"I think I'll be," mumbled Will as she shifted her legs over the side of her bed. Her bare feet touched the cold wooden floor.
"I can't believe it's this chilly already," she grumbled as she tossed the rest of the blankets off her.
"Yeah, it is kinda inconvenient. But on the bright side your first day of school starts today and you've got new opportunities to make new friends," Susan Vandom said, coming over and bending down to kiss her daughter on the forehead.
"Breakfast is waiting for you downstairs," Susan called behind her as she returned to the kitchen.
"I'd be feeling more cheerful if I didn't have school the day after we just arrived in this place," the 12-year-old mumbled once she was sure her mother was out of earshot.
Meanwhile, elsewhere in town…
A girl of 12 sat at her lamp-lit desk (rainstorms make mornings so bleak and grey), sketching a picture of a clone trooper sergeant. She was just adding finishing touches to it, proudly polishing it up. She had risen early to have a quick breakfast, she was dressed for action – at school, to be precise – and her bag was packed and at the ready.
But she really wanted to finish that drawing first before she left.
Her bedroom had multiple posters of sci-fi and comic book movies. On the left-width wall, there were posters of Sam Raimi's Spiderman 1 and 2, along with the girl's intricate sketches of the teen hero – because let's face it, Spiderman 1 and 2 are the two greatest superhero films ever. Spiderman was definitely the girl's favorite superhero.
The right-width wall had posters, photos and sketches of the original Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie, released in 1990 by New Line Cinemas. The exquisite sketches, drawn once again by the girl's talented hand, were immaculate. They captured the essence of the teenage turtles perfectly. Not to mention the gorgeously-drawn environments and the vividly-dark colour palettes. Her favorite turtle? Donatello.
And finally, the girl's main bedroom wall. It was entirely engulfed with Star Wars content. Mainly Prequel Era content. [1] There were many drawings, coloured and monotone, and paintings, acrylic and watercolour, that captured the rise and fall of the Prequel heroes. Among the girl's best artworks were the coloured sketches of the Battle of Muunilinst and the Siege of Coruscant, as well as paintings of the Duel on Mustafar and Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker himself, in full glory. Her personal favorite out of her concocted artworks was the Anakin painting – 'cause Anakin is her favorite character. [2]
Finished! At last!
The girl filed her picture away in her desk drawer for temporary safekeeping. She slung her backpack around her shoulders and raced down the hall to the front door. But then…
"ACHOO!"
Windows flew open, papers flew, utensils scattered and things propped up collapsed with an almighty crash. The door to another room opened.
"Hay Lin dear, what was that?"
"Oh… Grandma…" Hay Lin muttered, abashed, "I sneezed and somehow totally totalled the house."
The girl grabbed a tissue and blew. "No harm done, my dear. Go on, I'll clear it up for you," the elder said, "Oh! And why not invite some friends over for some afternoon tea!"
"Totally rad idea, Grandma!" Hay Lin beamed, swinging the front door closed behind her. She knew just who to choose!
After making sure the interiors were once again spotless, the old lady re-entered her room. She opened the double doors of her cupboard and pulled out a red box with gold pattern trimmings. She opened the lid slightly and watched the pink crystal inside it begin to glow.
"Yes…"
Through her bedroom window, the old lady watched her granddaughter round the corner of the block, now jogging the way to the Sheffield Institute. The crystal glowed brighter.
"Yes it is time."
7:30 am.
Ding! Ding! Ding!
Cornelia Hale's blue eyes flickered open.
"Urgh… well, at least the week's half done," she mumbled, stretching her long arms and her long legs. She really had had a head start on puberty.
A pitter-patter of feet resounded down the hall and her bedroom door flung open.
"Morning Corny!" her little sister squeaked.
"Morning, Lil," Cornelia smiled back, her mood now much more perky.
"Two more days 'till Daddy comes back from his business trip!" the younger sibling squealed in excitement, green eyes flaring and little hips swinging.
Yes, both girls took after their mother, both in looks and personality, but they were both Daddy's little girls.
"Mom's still cooking. Pillow fight! Pillow fight!" chanted Lillian, grinning wildly in an endearing way. [3]
"3. 2. 1. Go!" yapped Cornelia, snatching up her pillow. Lillian was already onto her. "Oi!" the older sister chuckled as fluff met face. She swung wide in a counterattack. Lillian tumbled back onto the bed.
"I'm coming to get you!" Cornelia rumbled playfully, stomping exaggeratedly over to her sister. Lillian shrieked joyfully, darting back just as Cornelia's pillow came crashing down. The older girl used the momentum to twirl herself onto her bed.
But Lillian was fast. In under 2 seconds she had utilized the high ground, leaping onto her big sister and slapping the pillow all around her. "I've got you now, foul beast!"
"I surrender! I surrender!" squealed Cornelia, folding up on her side with laughter.
"Well well. Good morning to you, my young warriors," their mother's voice drawled from the doorway. Elizabeth Hale smiled warmly, taking in the sight of her two children enjoying their pure, simple innocence.
"Morning, Mom!" came both the replies.
"Breakfast will be ready in 5 minutes you two," the Hale matriarch stated, nostalgia of an era gone by briefly passing over her face. She then turned back to the direction of the dining room.
"We'd better get ready, Lil," Cornelia said with a small nod. The little sister hopped off the bed, scampering quickly to the door.
Lillian had just exited the room when she heard her sister call from behind, "And I'll get you next time!"
7:40 am.
The smell of toasted waffles and grilled fish wafted around the kitchen of the Cooks. The 12-year-old African girl glanced at her watch. "And right on schedule," she thought, placing the cooked breakfast on the serving platters. She had just set them on the table when she heard several doors opening down the hallway.
"Good morning, my daughter," her mother smiled as she entered the kitchen, "My my, your discipline is always commendable." Theresa Cook sat at the dining table, green eyes shining with motherly pride at her daughter and her cooking. "If only your father and brother were as sharp as you," the Cook matriarch sighed, leaning in to kiss her daughter on the forehead. The child giggled, and her face glowed even more with mirth as the rest of her family roamed into the kitchen.
"Mom, we're not clones," Peter Cook deadpanned, forking a bite from his waffle. But he knew his mother was just ribbing him good-naturedly. His younger sister had now picked up her bag and was making her way to the kitchen exit. "Bye Ma, Da, Peter!"
"See you in the afternoon, Taranee!" her father called after her.
She had just mounted her bike, and with one last smile and wave, she was off!
8:10 am.
"You're lame!" a ginger-haired boy sneered.
"And you're pathetic," a brunette girl shot back.
"Stupid! The Originals are vastly superior!" the boy retorted sharply.
"Well from my point of view the Prequels are better!" the girl screeched, getting very frustrated.
Unfortunately she failed to notice one of the boy's acquaintances creeping behind her and snatching her brand-new drink bottle until it was too late.
"Hey! You give that back!"
The drink bottle was modeled after a lightsaber. Irma Lair was a big fan of sci-fi, particularly Star Wars, and in particular the Prequels.
Her father had given her that special drink bottle a week ago for her 13th birthday. Not only did the drink bottle look like a badass lightsaber, it doubled as a heavy-duty flashlight that could also be wielded in self-defense. [4]
Though, Irma was much more interested in marine biology and deep sea diving, and wouldn't pay much attention to her father's occasional self-defense lessons.
Which was something she was slightly regretting right about now.
"Oh look! She's blown a fuse! You gonna cry now, little Irma?" the lead boy guffawed, flashing a disgusting smirk.
Irma resisted the urge to release a skyward scream in frustration. "Concentrate!" she told herself, "This only works if my mind's set to it!"
Summoning all her focus, she projected a mental imperative towards the drink bottle thief.
"You will give that back and apologize."
"Oh, sorry. This is yours."
"WHAT are you DOING, man?!" the ginger-haired boy screeched. But Irma had already unleashed another barrage of mental orders.
"You and your buddies will back off."
"Ah, she isn't worth our presence here, Uriah. Let's go pick on someone else."
The trio of boys turned to leave.
"Ooh! And the Star Wars Prequels are way better!"
"And the Prequel Trilogy totally kicks the Original Trilogy's ass!" Uriah spontaneously shouted, before realizing seconds later, "What the–?!"
"I'm confused now, man. I thought you liked the OT more," the big guy spoke up.
"Laurent, SHUT UP! Just a slip of my tongue," the leader snapped back.
"A slip of the tongue, huh?" Irma grinned to herself smugly. She slipped her lightsaber drink bottle back into her bag's side-pocket.
[1] In my opinion the Prequels are way better than the Originals! And I declare that loudly and proudly!
[2] Mine too!
[3] I took that scene from the Comics! In particular: Arc 1, Issue #3, The Dark Dimension.
[4] Just like how Larry Daley shows us in Night of the Museum 2. Another brilliant movie, if I do say so myself.
From what I've seen of the show and comics, Irma and Hay Lin are apparently Star Trek fangirls.
Of course, now that Disney owns Star Wars I just decided to use that franchise instead. More fun and opportunities for me in my writing!
Hope I've captured the spirit well!
Feel free to leave a review!