Lunar Academy: Charity's Story

Chapter One

Hi. My name's Charity Klav. I'm Mark Klav's older sister. Oh yeah. There's one more member to our threesome of Klavs. That's my father, Landon Klav. Yeah. He's a total dunce. Don't mind him. He can be almost invisible to all people alike. It's kind of like how people forget that Canada is a part of North America the continent and not the United States the country. Therefore, Canada is always invisible. So, the story goes.

Ah, our living conditions. Right. I do suppose I ought to tell what they are. Ever heard of a utopia or some made up world way far off into the future? Well, that's what our world is like. Vankria, where we currently live, is a mass of land right at the equator. It's pretty much in the center of the globe. It's an independent, peaceful land with just a little over four hundred people residing within its territories. This land is the aftermath of the Apocalyptic War, where people fought and murdered their own kind.

The land looks as if it stretches on for miles. However, it isn't merely a sight of boring tumbleweed. Instead, this is a land of Eden with the mixture of high-tech gismos. Gone are the average Kia, Ford, Lexis, Mercedes, Subaru, etc. Gone are the black topped roadways. They all have been replaced by more advanced technology. Average sidewalks and bicycle routes have been replaced by metallic runways of sorts, the ones a person would normally use for hoverboards.

Savar, where my silly father has decided to move the three of us, is a tiny island far, far off into the east. Its summers are filled with a kind of heat that one could literally feel pressing into them and its winters are filled with a kind of cold such as that if one wasn't extremely careful, one would end up as a literal ice statue. The island isn't densely populated and those who live there are an awkward mix of poor, average and rich. It sounds like the world from the past, but believe me when I say it's far from that.

Yeah. Sounds like quite the vacation to me. Please note my sarcasm. It is very real right now. My father, a psychology professor, has discovered a centuries-old building and has decided it would be a good idea to make a school out of it. He wants to put grades Preschool all the way towards the college years. He has been planning renovations to the building ever since he laid eyes on it.

The people who will attend such a school. Right. My younger brother and myself as well as people who can't pay for their education. How does he get all this money? From donations and healthy programs. What are those? Ah, this is where I come to a halt on trying to explain it because even I have no idea. Sometimes my father is a mystery.

As of right now, it's in the middle of the day and amid the sweltering summer heat, I'm over here sitting at my desk staring away from my laptop, which is set up in front of me, opened up to a blank Microsoft Word document. It has been up for a while. I've just been clicking or tapping away, trying to keep the screen lit up for some reason. I like the screen lit up. It's satisfying and comforting to me.

What seems like hours ago, but probably was only few minutes ago, I did have an idea for a song. Suspecting my young brother is out on the rooftop above my head, I decide to sigh and roll my eyes, mumbling, "Jeez, bro! I can't..." My voice gets louder. "CONCENTRATE WHEN YOU'RE UP THERE THINKING SO HARD!"

Now, if I'm being honest, I don't know if I'm really complaining about something or if I'm just teasing my beloved younger brother. I feel like it's an odd mixture of both. Either way, I think I hear him jumping to his feet. I must have startled him.

I'm annoyed for some reason. I swear I can feel my brother sitting just above me, thinking hard about something. Who knows? I scoot back my black, leather desk chair and place it under the tiny door that had been placed in this old house while remodeling it years ago. I reach towards the white, rope-like object hanging down from a hole that had been drilled into the door. It's kind of like I'm opening an attic, but not exactly.