Wendybird

Hello Pan

  My mind is racing with anticipation. The minutes are ticking by till I have to make a decision. The whole day has been flooded with indecision. I tell myself to be wise. If I slip out and I'm caught, I'm guaranteed solitary confinement. On the other hand, if I don't go, what then? I'll never meet Pan. Better still, I'll never get to thank Pan. This person is worth the risk.

  Okay, ten minutes past four o'clock. I sit directly in front of the mantel clock. I have to be discreet when reading it. I can't have Canary noticing my stolen glances. I refocus my attention on the sword in my hands. Our assignment today was to renew a shipment of used swords. The staff decided the boys weren't to be trusted with them. I suppose they fear a rebellion. Either that or pretend swords fights ending with someone getting hurt.

  Upon arrival, we were split into three separate groups. The first, which I'm in, files the blade. We're given a block of wood to balance it on. Then we make long strokes with a file on each side of the blade. We continue this routine until a rough edge appears. After, it's handed over to the second group. They polish the blade with a whetstone and oil. Lastly, the third group takes the sharpened swords. They carefully run small squares of sandpaper and water along the blade. This manages to blend the work together. At the end of our three groups, the sword is restored and lethal once again.

  It's fifteen minutes after four. I start sweating realizing what I'm about to do. I hold the sword at a thirty degree angle and run the file cleanly down it. I flip the side and breathe out. I press my hand into the blade and run it down the sword. I cry out in pain. The sword isn't the sharpest, but good enough to give me a decent cut. I grab my hand and allow the blood to run down the other fingers. It looks gruesome. The other girls gather around screaming and Mary faints at the sight of the blood. The girls begin to feed off of one another's emotions. The anxiety builds until the room is ringing with sounds of terror. Canary rushes into the room, alarmed by the commotion. She barely notices me bleeding and goes directly to Mary unconscious on the ground.

  I take advantage of this panic and slip out of the room. A bin of old clothing scraps sits outside of the assignment room. I waste no time wrapping my hand in an old strip of cloth. I continue through the house cautiously and exit the front door. I hadn't had time to grab a coat and suffer the consequences immediately. Icy winds blast through me. I'm a thin girl who is malnourished. There's not enough fat on my body to provide any warmth. So the wind hits me like a ton of bricks. I do my best to stay on my feet and press against the cold. I rub my shoulders fiercely attempting to create a little warmth. All my attention has to be on the mission ahead.

  The street is silent and empty as I walk down it. This is a comfort. The old factory is now straight ahead. In the daylight, I can see how neglected it's become.

  Arriving at the gate, I see there's no one waiting. I begin to worry about my choice to leave the orphanage. I reassure myself this was the right thing to do. From behind, I hear a boy say quietly, "Hello Wendy, I'm glad you came."

  I turn around and eye the figure standing behind the gate. He's tall and dressed in a long golden cloak that covers his head. His eyes match the cloak and I find myself mesmerized by his golden gaze.

  "Please, the gate is open. Come inside," he beckons to me.

  I press my hand against the cold metal and it loudly creaks open. I quickly step into the courtyard and shut it behind. The boy motions for me to follow him. We walk silently across the snow covered ground towards an open door. I glance around at the massive building surrounding us. I imagine it was once very beautiful. The factory was built of sturdy red bricks that now appear faded. Many of the glass windows are cracked and broken and have wooden boards covering the missing panes.