The Midnight Guard [TMG Book One]

Part I: Midnight

The golden light of another day had begun to fade. Slowly sunshine was lost to the oncoming veil of darkness that crept across the lands and seas, silent and steady. Beneath the pastel-coloured sky lay a small town that had been forgotten by the rest of the world, a town that was isolated and aged. Within that town a door was opened as a young girl drifted out into the one long and winding street. Behind her the door clicked shut, its old dilapidated building sighing as though tired, as did most structures in the town of Journey's End. It was a peculiar name for a town, but fitting.

Journey's End lay enclosed by a surrounding of towering snow-capped mountains with only one way in and one way out. There was a train line down by the icy sea front that brought people to and from the old town, but mostly from. Not many wished to live in such a place, however that was not to say that Journeys End was a bad place as such, but more so as a result of its many bizarre ways and rules, one of which was most unusual;

The Rule of Midnight.

It said that no person was to be out of doors at or past the hour of midnight on any occasion. All windows were to be shut, curtains pulled and doors closed, there were no exceptions. In days gone by few had failed to abide by this rule, and these few had never been seen or heard from again. They had vanished; it would seem, from both the town and memory. Not a living soul in Journeys End was certain as to what it was that happened at midnight in their town, yet nobody questioned it either. Rules were made to be followed and this was the strictest of them all.

"Good evening, madam."

All throughout the long and winding street of Journeys End people bustled about their business. The buildings that sat on either side of the cobbled road loomed high above the crowds, their dusty lancet windows like watchful eyes. Each structure had been painted black once upon a time, but the colour was fading now, peeling away.

"How do you do?"

It was a rare thing for people to stop and exchange pleasantries or make idle conversation, there was not enough time. A clock ticked relentlessly like a heartbeat in the background and echoed throughout the days like a constant reminder of transience; nothing would last forever, time continued to move on.

Snow descended from the heavens above in a dance that rose and fell across the frozen evening sky now drained of colour but for the darkness. The last train of the evening was now leaving the station, hissing as it began to move along the snow-kissed tracks. It moved slowly at first, shaking uncertainty as the wheels made the first turns of their journey, then the speed increased and soon the train was lost in a haze of grey smoke and fading noise until it became nothing more than a dot in the distance leaving behind the strange town of Journeys End.

The girl had come to watch as the train moved away and out into the unknown. She imagined herself as one of its passengers travelling to the lands beyond. It was an adventure she could only ever dream of having. The girl, who wore a grey dress that came to her knees, carried in her hands a woven basket that was empty now. Her hair fell in gentle curls almost to her waist and was a warm brown, just like her eyes. The girls name was Wynter Rhodes. Wynter was an orphan. She lived in one of the tall run-down buildings at the end of the street along with the other children like her, but she was the eldest, hardly a child anymore and so was burdened with endless workloads day after day in order to keep her shelter. There was no room in the orphanage for the likes of Wynter anymore though leaving hardly seemed frightening, it could almost have been an exciting prospect if she had somewhere to go. Wynter had no money and no family, not anymore.

Sometime not long after Wynter had turned just two years of age, her parents - wealthy folk who came from a place far from where she was now - had perished in a travelling accident, an overturned ship in the midst of a storm. They had never returned to Journeys End for their only daughter, but Wynter had barely known them, she could hardly remember any small detail, a laugh, a voice, not the touch of a hand or a mother's gentle hum while she rested. Wynter had then been raised by an uncle, a resident of Journeys End with whom she had been staying at the time of her parent's unfortunate deaths. He had been as good as any father, as kind and loving as any child could have wished though he had little money to provide for them both with.