summer stories

The Glade (tmr)

Your memories make you, you. Your experiences are the things that make you who you are today. Your name is your identity. It is yours and only yours, and it gives you a sense of who you are; your place in the world.

Imagine having that taken away: your name stripped from existence so you are now someone else. Your experiences, your memories of who you are and who you know taken from you so your life is not yours anymore.

Now imagine a field of grass. Lush green roots shooting from the ground. In one corner of the field, a grove of trees. Tall and majestic, but separated and alone at the same time. In another corner, a small hut and the third, a pavilion. Stone walls at least 200 feet high surround this field, with only four doors at the cardinal points. These doors open at dawn and close at dusk, and outside the walls, an ever changing maze. That maze is home for monsters. Terrible creatures half flesh, half machine.

Thirteen boys wake up in a metal box moving through pure darkness. Some lean against crates stamped with the word 'WICKED', some lay on the cold metal floor. They start yelling in sync, banging at the sides of the box until their hands start going red. They catch a glimpse of sunlight from an opening above and their screams for help get louder.

At last, the metal box comes to a creaking stop and the boys push their way to solid ground. They take in their surroundings and finally, they look at one another. A boy with curly brown hair and fair skin stands up and addresses the group of people. He can't remember anything, but then again, none of them can.

"Where are we?" He asks. His voice is strong and intimidating, letting out no trace of his fear. The others said nothing. "My name's Nick. But that's the only thing I remember," He spoke mostly to no one, but everyone was listening. As the rest of them got more comfortable with each other, they slowly started introducing themselves.

An asian boy in a pale blue button down shirt called himself Minho. A tall blonde was named Newt. A dark-skinned teen named himself Alby. Zart, Winston, Frypan, Lee, Gally, Clint, Billy, Ben and George. All thirteen of them were confused and wondering where they were. Why were they there? Who sent them there? Why couldn't they remember anything?

Nick looked around them, taking in the trees, the hut and the pavilion in the corners of the large grassy field they were given. He examined the stone walls and the open doors until finally his gaze returned to his group of companions.

Suddenly, Images flooded his head. It was the same place they were in now, but different. Bigger. Better. A garden bloomed with fresh fruits and vegetables right outside the hut. The hut was larger too, taller and much more comfy-looking. The pavilion had a sheltered kitchen and several long tables with wooden benches underneath. Boys were filing into the pavilion to get their dinner, and Nick watched in surprise as a few boys came in through the doors just as they started closing. The sun was touching the horizon and the sky was a glamorous mix of orange and pink. These images weren't his. They came from a part of his brain that he didn't know he had. This is what it could be like. Again, that thought wasn't his, but Nick listened to it anyway. This is what you want it to be like. He did want to live in a place like that.

Nick shook his head to rid himself of these thoughts, and they retreated to the back of his head.

"What even is this place?" Lee asked. Everyone's head turned to Nick; he was to be their leader.

"This is the Glade."