Beneath the Earth
Chapter One
People milled sullenly about the streets. Most pedestrians kept a face-forward stare, while some glanced sheepishly at the poorly executed graffiti on the side of a building. It was clear that the perpetrator had been pulled violently away from his offense while only halfway finished; the paint read “Freed-.” This was the first example of public slander any one had seen outside of North District in five years, when Enne gained his unfortunate power. I tried not to smile as I walked past. At least there were still those who had not lost hope yet.
I made my way into the East Anne Tramway Station to catch the tram to West District for my daily four-hour class. The dirty, almost decrepit walls of the tiny building were iced with political posters portraying Enne as the perfect ruler. As I boarded my tram, I saw in my peripherals that someone was defacing one, placing a rather large black “X” over Enne’s heart. People pretended not to notice as an officer tackled the young man to the grimy floor, not two seconds after he finished swiping his swift mark. His crime would earn him two years imprisoned, and a lifetime of the law’s suspicion. I sat in a middle seat, behind an elderly woman and in front of a young boy putting on a sweater. The seat to my left housed a favorite classmate of mine.
“Maverick!” I called to him enthusiastically. He smiled in return. “Hi, Celia.” I gestured to the fellow being apprehended. “This is the second time I’ve seen someone defacing Enne today. Weird, right?” A flash of a grave expression quickly cloaked his smile, and he leaned close enough so that I caught wind of his subtle, yet alluring cologne. He said in a hushed tone “I heard there’s something happening in North District.”
The northern district is home to the most criminally inclined. Despite its crime rate, though, it’s patrolled by only half the amount of officers the other districts are harassed by. Some say the reason behind this is the slight poverty in the area. There’s simply not much for Enne to gain by arresting or fining North District’s inhabitants. As a result of this negligence, the area has gone completely downhill since Enne applied his crown. Though people go without an evening meal, and violent murders go untried, there is a flicker of freedom in the North District. Enne’s sinister word isn’t so sharp there.
“What’s something?” I asked Maverick. He shook his head. “Nevermind. Nothing is going to change, anyway.”
I sat patiently in my seat as Mr. Sylle rambled on about The Great War, and how our marvelous realm came into being. In fifteen minutes, the class would be over, and my classmates and I would take our separate ways. I sat and thought, as one will do whilst being terribly bored. I wondered what that “something” was that Maverick spoke of. Though I remained hopeful, reality struck me like a lead-laced pendulum. If there was a revolt, it would change nothing. There have been at least twenty in the past five years, all resulting in complete failure. When someone speaks out, Enne only clutches at everyone’s throats tighter. The majestic monster thrives upon complete and utter control.
We were dismissed, and I chose to walk to work instead of taking the swifter tram. I wanted time to think without being hassled by rude, infinitely impatient customers at the North District post office in which I’m employed. I would be late yet again due to my time-ravenous mind. I moved south-east, and thusly reached my destination.
My shift was slow and grueling. I loathed the hours in which I was confined to this microscopic room filled with envelopes, boxes, and papers. The people who I served were always hasty and cold, treating me like a defected robot.
My coworker, Andy, finally came in at six in the evening to relieve me of my agonizing duties. I welcomed him whole-heartedly, and proceeded to make my way to my apartment in the eastern district. I arrived to my humble abode, which I share with my parents who insist upon watching over their seventeen-year-old postal worker with eyes of a night owl. “Hi sweetie, I made Chaka.” My mother greeted me. Chaka is a sort of pasty soup made from mushrooms and herbs, the most common ingredients found in Anne. “Delicious.” I said, and picked up a plate to eat with my family.
I made my way to my bedroom, and lit its lantern. The small but ample flame flicked and wavered, illuminating the room and caressing its walls with the kiss of a sunrise. Exhausted, I slept.
I made my way into the East Anne Tramway Station to catch the tram to West District for my daily four-hour class. The dirty, almost decrepit walls of the tiny building were iced with political posters portraying Enne as the perfect ruler. As I boarded my tram, I saw in my peripherals that someone was defacing one, placing a rather large black “X” over Enne’s heart. People pretended not to notice as an officer tackled the young man to the grimy floor, not two seconds after he finished swiping his swift mark. His crime would earn him two years imprisoned, and a lifetime of the law’s suspicion. I sat in a middle seat, behind an elderly woman and in front of a young boy putting on a sweater. The seat to my left housed a favorite classmate of mine.
“Maverick!” I called to him enthusiastically. He smiled in return. “Hi, Celia.” I gestured to the fellow being apprehended. “This is the second time I’ve seen someone defacing Enne today. Weird, right?” A flash of a grave expression quickly cloaked his smile, and he leaned close enough so that I caught wind of his subtle, yet alluring cologne. He said in a hushed tone “I heard there’s something happening in North District.”
The northern district is home to the most criminally inclined. Despite its crime rate, though, it’s patrolled by only half the amount of officers the other districts are harassed by. Some say the reason behind this is the slight poverty in the area. There’s simply not much for Enne to gain by arresting or fining North District’s inhabitants. As a result of this negligence, the area has gone completely downhill since Enne applied his crown. Though people go without an evening meal, and violent murders go untried, there is a flicker of freedom in the North District. Enne’s sinister word isn’t so sharp there.
“What’s something?” I asked Maverick. He shook his head. “Nevermind. Nothing is going to change, anyway.”
I sat patiently in my seat as Mr. Sylle rambled on about The Great War, and how our marvelous realm came into being. In fifteen minutes, the class would be over, and my classmates and I would take our separate ways. I sat and thought, as one will do whilst being terribly bored. I wondered what that “something” was that Maverick spoke of. Though I remained hopeful, reality struck me like a lead-laced pendulum. If there was a revolt, it would change nothing. There have been at least twenty in the past five years, all resulting in complete failure. When someone speaks out, Enne only clutches at everyone’s throats tighter. The majestic monster thrives upon complete and utter control.
We were dismissed, and I chose to walk to work instead of taking the swifter tram. I wanted time to think without being hassled by rude, infinitely impatient customers at the North District post office in which I’m employed. I would be late yet again due to my time-ravenous mind. I moved south-east, and thusly reached my destination.
My shift was slow and grueling. I loathed the hours in which I was confined to this microscopic room filled with envelopes, boxes, and papers. The people who I served were always hasty and cold, treating me like a defected robot.
My coworker, Andy, finally came in at six in the evening to relieve me of my agonizing duties. I welcomed him whole-heartedly, and proceeded to make my way to my apartment in the eastern district. I arrived to my humble abode, which I share with my parents who insist upon watching over their seventeen-year-old postal worker with eyes of a night owl. “Hi sweetie, I made Chaka.” My mother greeted me. Chaka is a sort of pasty soup made from mushrooms and herbs, the most common ingredients found in Anne. “Delicious.” I said, and picked up a plate to eat with my family.
I made my way to my bedroom, and lit its lantern. The small but ample flame flicked and wavered, illuminating the room and caressing its walls with the kiss of a sunrise. Exhausted, I slept.