A Way to York

midnight scrambles

:write a chapter in which a character makes a late night journey to satisfy an unusual craving and meets someone special:

It was cold as balls out at three in the morning. 

The sky was an artist's paint can, a mixture of foggy black and dollops of navy and other dark hues. This sky, in particular, was missing a thing (or a whole set of things really). It was lackluster from its vacancy of twinkling little dots, that weren't little at all. In fact, they had the power to start and end entire ecosystems and potential for them.

York took note of this as she gazed through the window, childish delight growing. It was beautiful indeed, but she craved for something more. Something that would take her breath away and capture it in a moment of awe. 

Her hand brushed over a crinkled package, and her heart skipped a beat. Shaky fingers grasped the parchment, hesitating when her face--her future face--flashed before her eyes. Limp. Desperate. Dead. 

What was in this vessel that made her risk her life to deliver it? 

York gingerly flipped over the box, searching for a way to open it. It wrinkled, but after several fits of strength, it wouldn't rip. She didn't want to destroy or fracture anything inside, so she avoided the old-fashioned method of taking a sledge-hammer to it. 

She lit up, spotting a flat circular disk about the size of dime. It seemed to stick out, being made of a transparent material that was too warped to be glass or plastic. 

Her fingers grazed the disk, causing it to illuminate and emit a low humming sound that buzzed though her skin. Finally, it stopped and spoke. 

"Identity verified. York Bentley of twenty-fourteen. Please insert pink kitten thermos."

She knitted her brows together, wondering what a cardboard box needed with a pink cat bottle. Eventually, she jumped out of her sheets and scrambled through her cabinets and cupboards for a silly child's toy. 

"Insert thermos in. Twenty minutes before automatic lockdown," it threatened. 

"All right, all right!" she snapped back. "Shut up, and I will find your pink thermos."

As if responding, the box hushed and turned dormant. York smugly grinned before realizing what the box threatened at. Her smirk fell away. 

Where would you find a pink thermos with a cat on it? 

Grabbing her overcoat, she raced to the local 24-hour convince store in her fluffy slippers and floral nightgown. The icy wind was dreadful as it pelted her face and exposed legs. It blew at her nightgown as she tried to make herself look natural. 

Well, about as natural as a woman in her late-twenties wearing your grandmother's pajamas at three in the morning could look. 

The bright illuminating sign of the store gave her hope, guiding her like Polaris in a vast desert of concrete and pavement. Only this star has a few more flickering blinks.  

The doors slid open, as she steam-plowed through the pharmacy and straight to the aisles. They offered an array of feminine hygiene, adult diapers, aftershave and so much more. 

York breezed through the shelves, scouring for a bright feline. She had to crouch down on the floor in order to read the bottom shelf, pushing the hair out of her face. 

"York?"

Her eyes narrowed at the character before her. His scruffy hair stuck out in crimson curls, adorned with a straw fedora. Freckles blossomed on snowy skin all over his face. With his hands in his pocket and head ducked to face her, this person was known to her as Chester. Her spunky younger brother who was fresh out of university and as elusive as York's love life. 

"Don't look at me with that face," she shot up, flipping her wrist to check her watch. "You've been gone for six months without any rings or e-mails."

"But-"

"You could start apologizing by helping me find a thermos with cat on it, preferably pink."

He scrunched up his face at her brash tone until he actually took time to look at her again. Covering his mouth, he doubled over in fits of laughter. "What are you wearing? Nana's evening attire?"

She rammed past him, making a mad dash through the aisles. Her head snapped around as Chester ran after her. "This is not the time to be insulting my aesthetic choices!"

"What do you need with a–"

She spotted a whole display of bottles, from sports bottles to whole canteens. Her eyes honed in on this pyramid of destiny, and whether it was the sleep deprivation, time constraint, opportunity to do such a feat or all of the above, she dove into mountain.

The bottles collapsed around her, engulfing her in the overwhelming aroma of plastic. It was like being in the ball pit at those unhygienic clubs for kids, only there weren't enough plastic to keep her afloat. 

"Ow," she groaned, using her pointy elbows to crawl out of the avalanche. "That seemed much cooler in my head."

Chester, being the fantastic and caring brother he is, slapped his knee and cackled loud enough to fill the entire store. Eventually, the laughter got too overbearing, he fell onto the floor in a fit of giggles. 

"That was perfect!" he managed between howls. "I wish I had my camera to record this random stupidity of yours."

Then, as he was flailing on the ground, he crashed against the table himself and a hot pink bottle dropped on his head. It bounced off his dense skull and rolled towards York's foot, into her eye-sight. 

Her fingers wound around it. "This is it! I got it!" She launched out of the display pile and ran out towards the front, whooping and releasing a celebratory cry as she bounded out the door.

"Sis! You still have to pay for that!"

"You owe me anyway!" she called back, her excitement too immense to be diminished. 

This was her chance. She could finally find out what was in that box. The adrenaline in her body made her ignore the cutting wind, in fact, it fueled her to run faster. She had never ran like this since high school, and it felt unbinding. 

York slammed her door close, clutching the thermos in her hands, a strange sense of pride in her chest. Reaching for the box, she inserted the bottle onto the metal disk and stood back, her heart thumping.

Silence punctured the air, leaving only the erratic rhythm in her chest.

A light pieced through the darkness in her room, burning her eyes. She raised her hands to cover her eyes as the light expanded, engulfing the expanse of her room. She blinked.

The box was gone, and in its place was an object that could possibly change the future of mankind. 

An enticing cookbook.