SILVERLIGHT- Book One of the FLY BY NIGHT Trilogy

Chapter 1

She sleeps, cradled lovingly in her mother's arms. She's two or three at the most- a baby really. A pretty baby. She has wispy raven hair, covering her fragile scull and lips as plump and red as a strawberry. She begins to twist, whimpering and grimacing in her sleep. She's having a nightmare. Her mother looks down, concerned. Then, she touches the child's forehead gently with her index finger which is blackened by an intricate tattoo. It starts at the tip of her finger, as solid and dark as black ink and continues, dividing into curling tentacle like strands, swirling abstractly and then tethering to points. All her fingers have similar designs. "Somnia quieta." She whispers. A strange bluish light flows down her finger- so faint it could be imagined. The baby sighs and relaxes, sleeping peacefully once again. Thick mist, shrouds the two, and then when it is gone, so is the lady- leaving the baby lying alone on the forest floor. She wakes, her eyelashes flutter open. I can't help but notice her eyes. They're a deep, dark blue and they widen with fear. She looks around for her mother. "Mama?" she calls. Panicking, she begins to scream for her mother, stumbling through the woods, dwarfed by ancient trees. Razor sharp leaves cut the girl as she stumbles past them. Pretty, bright flowers leave welts on her limbs when they touch her creamy skin. I wish I could help her, but I know somehow, that I am only a viewer here. "Mama!" She screams. "Mama!" Tears stream down her rosy cheeks. She trips, and vines vines snake around her limbs. She struggles, but they are too strong. "Mama!" She screams, her call muted by a constricting tendril.

"SOMNIA QUIETA." She screamed, waking with a jolt.

Almost as soon as she'd said them, the words slipped away, but her heart still pounded in her ears, the image of her younger self being strangled by the vicious vine fresh in her mind. It's wasn't the first time Clio had been woken by dreams of her mother. She could hardly remember her, but she dreamed of her often- even more so lately, though Clio didn't know why. Her death, although her father had refused to tell her anything about it was a recurring theme.

Clio closed her eyes, hearing her excited pulse in her ears, and then decided that it's was no good- she'd never be able to get to sleep now. Besides, there was something she wanted to do. She glanced at her alarm clock (4.45 am), and then down at the figure who was crookedly sprawled over one end of the mattress and a great deal of the surrounding floor. Nick had been Clio's best friend, since the first day of Junior school, when they were both just five years old. Eight years later, they were still as close as ever. She knew enough about him to be sure that he wouldn't be waking for at least another hour, so she sat up, tucked her long black tangles behind her ears, and slid quietly out of bed. Her bare feet were silent on the cool floorboards, but she was careful to be quiet all the same, stepping carefully over NIck and then tiptoeing to the window. Outside it looked as if the entire world had been painted in shades of navy, grey and mauve watercolours. The window creaked a little as she pushed, but there was no other option. The others were all still nailed shut. They'd been sealed in this manner when Clio was little, for safety. But then a few weeks ago, overcome by an uncharacteristic sense of claustraphobia had led to her wrenching the nails out of the one window with the back of a hammer. Thanks to this, she had a new favourite spot.

Clio stepped one leg through, and then carefully manoeuvred the rest of herself through the small space and onto the wobbly lacework balcony beyond. Then she rose to her toes, and hooked a hand over the the edge of the eave, probably putting too much trust in the rusted gutter, and then carefully swung herself up onto the roof, using the railing as a foothold. Here, she got to her feet, and then in a half crouch, skirted the skylight where she quickly glanced down to check that Nick was still asleep. Of course, he was. Then she sat in a cross legged position on the roof of her apartment and waited patiently until the beginnnings of the sun peeped over the horizon, bleeding crimson light into the sky and bathing the city in a golden glow. She imagined that this was what the beginnings of the universe might've looked like. Compelled foreward by the the sight, she rose and moved, until her bare toes were curled over the edge. Around her, she could hear the sounds of the world awaking. Birds cooed tiredly, and made a soft brushing sound as they stretched their wings, then tucked them back into place, the soft sigh of someone's dog, which slumbered in a cosy basket, Nick's sheet rustling, as he rolled over, the warm gentle breeze through my hair, the muted humming of a hot water system starting up... She outstretched her arms, closing her eyes. The rising sun stained her eyelids swirling pink and orange, as she imagined what it would be like to fly.