The Choosing

Prologue

At first the chants come in small waves, just five or ten people shouting and throwing their fists in the air. But gradually, more people join in, tossing up hats or coats and chanting three words at the top of their lungs.
    "Save us, Floodlight."
    Who knows what it means—a dream is a dream, as Ma used to tell me. I  know one thing for sure. This is more than a dream, but it's something I cannot explain. As I continue to watch, the shouting gets louder, until all the voices rise up in a single wave—drowning out the sounds of the night. And something wells up inside me and spreads through my body and I am filled with this—this thing that makes me feel like I can do anything. My attention returns to the clearing as the chanting slowly starts to get louder, and louder. This goes on for what seems like hours, until a stick cracks behind me. A single gun glints in the firelight before it retreats back into the darkness of the forest surrounding the clearing in which I am standing. As my eyes adjust to the darkness hovering along the edge of the clearing, I begin to see the outlines of people; hundreds of people—no, soldiers—all armed for battle. Panic wells up inside of me, clawing freezing fingers up my spine.
    My head spins, and all I can think is I have to warn them, Someone has to warn them and I try to call out but my voice won't work and I can only watch as the soldiers storm the clearing and gunshots ring out and people scream and I can't I can't I can't. And then silence and a cold barrel is pressed to my forehead. I squeeze my eyes shut and the finger presses down on the trigger and then—I shoot out up from the dewy grass—drenched in cold sweat and still shivering from my dream. I take a few deep breaths and the adrenaline slowly drains out of me. My heart still thumps and my pulse still races and so I rest my head in my hands as a slow drizzle starts to fall. 
    Hope is like a butterfly, soaring through the blue skies—something that can be caught but not found. And once it's caught you have to hold on to it—or it's gone, forever. You can never find the same butterfly twice. I had hope once. I drank it like Ma's lemonade on a warm summer day—let it pour its empty promises into me, a bone-dry cup, yearning to be filled. But once was enough.

    Raising my head to the sky, I sigh as the cool rain hits my face. It is refreshing and cold at the same time. It is full of hope and sadness, anger and joy, grief and happiness. It is equal and opposite and strangely peaceful as the skies pour their long-lost dreams from the heavens.
    Some people say our city is hopeless, that our Council is stealing from us. That we will all die a sad, short life. That our force field will fall and the dangers will kill us all. The sky darkens and I take in a breath, letting it go. We are still here. These people were once strong, rallying for what is right, but they lost hope, and when hope leaves tragedy strikes.
    I open my eyes as the stiff air thickens, and larger droplets of rain fall from the gray sky. Holding out my hand, I watch as drops of water collect on my palm, then slowly run off and fall to the soaking ground.
    With a careful hand I tuck a loose strand of brown hair behind my ear. Taking off my jacket I blink rain off my eyelashes. The silence engulfs me, washing away emotion and feeling, leaving me with only the quiet pitter patter of rain hitting dirt. I sit on a small hill, lush and green, graced with the glories of early spring. It overlooks Auradon, the most beautiful city in the world. It is lined with small white stone houses, each with a larger black building next to it. The windows glint in the artificial sunlight that shines from deep within the Barrier that separates us from the rain and the snow and the heat and extremities lurking in the Outside. Splashing fountains and lush meadows decorate the luxurious outskirts of the city. This is where the wealthy live in peace and comfort. All the middle class live in regular, one-story wooden houses, which spiral into the city's capital, Auburn.  Funny that the wealthy live the farthest away from Auburn, and yet they have the most contact with the head of Council. I live the closest to the capital, in Blue Skies. My family all work as Messengers, relaying messages to the Officials and others who live in the Golden City, at the very outskirts. It's a good job, and it pays well. It's enough to support our family of three, at the very least. And I can get to the Outside easily. My watch beeps, and I realize that it is time for me to get back into the city. I've been here since sunset, after my work shift was over, and I should head back so I can make curfew. Running my hand along the wet grass, I breathe in the smell of fresh soil and earth. I close my eyes as a icy cold breeze runs by, drowning me in nothing, as it starts to rain harder. Lightning splits through the sky, making Avalon disappear and my vision blur. I get up, my hair slapping wildly at my face, the wind screaming through the storm. I open my dark blue eyes, gazing up towards the dark sky, my mind whirling with aliveness.
In the rain, everything changes. I am awake, alive, and finally, beautifully, free. Another large bolt of bright blue lightning strikes the Barrier, bouncing back into the sky with a loud bang. I walk slowly down the hill, leaving my jacket behind, lying wet, draped across a flat rock.