Safe Haven - The Hidden Charter

Chapter Three: Amirah

Amirah walked along the lined fences of the shack she shared with her mother, stepfather, and stepsister, before jumping up to sit down on the cracked wood. She sighed as she watched the sunset. It was the night on the day of the gathering, the events still replaying in her head. 

She couldn't stop thinking about the girl who got taken away. What happened to her? Where did they put her? Was her name really Xara, or was the other girl who pushed them into the bushes right about the fact that it was just another officer's name? Even so, how did the girl—Braelyn, she remembered—know anything? She shook her head, trying to free her mind.

In the midst of the small shack, she heard two figures yelling coldly. Mother and stepfather, she thought. Amirah sighed softly.

Everything started with Amirah's biological father. He was a man full of adventure, as well as hope and dreams. He was everything a woman or a man could want in a husband or a father. Nice, kind, and caring, but also daring, cunning, and funny at times. Amirah and her father formed an instant bond.

Her mother, on the other hand, had other plans.

It felt too quick and too easy for her mother to say goodbye, yet it felt way too hard for Amirah to hug her father for the last time.

Then, he was up and gone. 

It almost felt like Amirah had no use to go on.

Her mother, on the other hand, did.

She came out the same day her father left, claiming she was with someone else and wishing to relocate to his shack. Amirah had no choice but to agree, knowing that she had no power left in her, and also for the fact that she didn't know him and his abusive behavior.

Her mother bowed slowly to his entitlement, making it feel as if there was nothing left in this world.

Except there was.

And her name was Skye.

Amirah knew they'd become best friends the moment she opened the crooked wooden door, revealing her crisp features and warm smile.

And it soon was a reality.

Now, as she sat on the wooden fence, watching the sun dip below the trees, she felt a sense of tranquility. She closed her eyes, soaking in the last of the sun's rays before it vanished.

Suddenly, she felt her head jerk towards a fairly large patch of field. 

She unconsciously jumped down from the fence and walked over to it. Her mind didn't know what was going on, but her legs didn't obey her brain's protests. They simply kept moving.

She finally reached the slightly raised grassy platform and crouched down to take a closer look.

It felt and looked very unnatural. The dirt curved It almost looked like it was buried. 𝘞𝘢𝘴 it? 

Amirah began to dig up the grass, her hands scooping up a raw pile of dirt before tossing it to the side, her muscles tensed slightly as she continued to pick at the patch before reaching a hard end. Her brow furrowed as she began to transport piles from the surrounding area. Finally, after a few minutes of tough labor, she was able to pick up an item and drop dirt on the ground.

It was carved with exquisite curves and lines that resembled leaves and vines. It was incredible. She let out a soft gasp when she saw it. She gently shook it, causing it to come to a sudden halt.

She heard a noise.

Intrigued, Amirah shook the box again.

Paper?

Her breathing became heavy and quick as she looked for a way to open it.

Her hands grazed the wooden compartment, before pausing on one spot.

She felt something.

Then, she knew.

A key!

***

Click.

The box unlocked suddenly. 

Amirah smiled with wonder as she slowly flipped the lid open, displaying the contents.

The interior was made of wood, with carvings along the edges. She noticed a piece of paper, with writing scribbled along with it. Her brow furrowed as she took hold of the delicate, folded document. 

Amirah looked at it with sudden intrigue, but it grew as she read the largest header, written in bolded letters.

IMPORTANT!

She skimmed further.

THE WEEKLY: APOCALYPSE?

Her eyes widened.

Apocalypse?

This couldn't be. . . 

Was it talking about the apocalypse that caused the worldwide extinction? It had to be!

Wanting to not make any more assumptions, she decided to study it further. Most of the rest of the text was repeating the same sentence as the header. All it consisted of were doubts and theories regarding the impending catastrophe.

She was about to give up the hope that had grown like a tiny flame in her heart when she read the last bit of writing on the page, and that flame got larger.

"UNDER RANSON'S POST, THERE IS A THRESHOLD. . . 

She gasped at the last part.

. . .SAVE YOURSELVES."