The Assumption (The Hypothesis of Giants Series, Book One)

Chapter One: Conch Shell

Nobody questioned the Sacred Hour in the town of Candlewick anymore. For the past fifteen years, everyone had learned to sleep through the bell chimes that rang out exactly one hour prior to the sun rising over the United States of the Common Good. The IDEAL, the leader of this newly founded country, enforced it strongly on the basis that it was to keep the people safe. There were rare occasions when an angry or defiant individual disobeyed this law. These unfortunate individuals were caught, imprisoned, and never heard from again. This Sacred Hour was deemed a symbol of unity among the people. This is the way it was and the way it would always be. 

***

It was a sweltering night in July, and the town of Candlewick was fast asleep during the Sacred Hour. But one girl awoke out of her slumber, eyelids open and ears perked up as if still in the confines of the dream. She froze, fearful that she had heard the sound in error and that she was imagining things. But then the deep bellowing noise echoed again from beyond her window sill. She sprang out of her bed and dashed to the opened window. She tried to discern from which direction the noise came. She held her breath, afraid that if she disturbed the silence of the night it would not sound again, counting the seconds in her head. Then it sounded again, loud and clear through the night, and the direction of its source was from the little ruby-red house directly opposite her on Wishbone Avenue. 

No lights were on as the house lay hidden beneath the honey locust trees, with their long branches intertwined and thorns sticking upward like a spiked fence. The old weather-beaten shutters were hanging off their hinges as if they were fighting for survival, and the overgrown blades of grass resembled a wild prairie that had grown as high as the top of the front porch. A statue of a black cat stood guard beside the wicker rocking chair, and the paint was chipping off the scripted engraving of the number fifteen right above the chalky white screen door. The ominous street was vacant except for the occasional Common Good patrol car driving past, its headlights radiating through the shadows of the starless night, to ensure that curfew was being obeyed. 

She heard the sound again. She could have sworn it was a conch shell resounding from the confines of the ruby-red house. It blew again, and she opened the window another inch and pressed her ear against the opening. It sounded like the musical outburst was searching the night for someone to hear its cry for help. Silence ensued again, and she whispered into the night, "I hear you. Do you need help? My name is Aurora." 

The sound resonated again in her ears like a whisper in the night, translating itself inside her mind.

"Aurora." 

Alarmed, she quickly slammed the window shut but fell backward over her tower of textbooks that were piled against the wall. She lay there, facing the ceiling and trying to catch her breath, her heartbeat racing. Then she dusted herself off and fixed her purple nightgown, covering her knees again before peeking through the cool glass of the window pane, resisting the urge to blink. Silence prevailed over the night as she waited for the conch shell to sound again. She stared into the darkness of the night but drifted off to sleep as the little ruby-red house stared back at her, unflinching. 

***

Fifteen-year-old Aurora Alvarez darted down the emerald carpeted stairs and entered the shambles that was the kitchen. She had wavy golden-brown hair that was cropped just above her shoulders, with a slight bang that was styled to the left side of her forehead. She rubbed the corner of her sunburnt cheeks that stood out over her naturally tanned complexion. She was about five foot six with wide, curvy hips and a nice sized bust that she held back against her chest with a sports bra. She possessed big, diamond-shaped brown eyes with thick eyelashes reminiscent of old Hollywood, a small, distinctive nose, and mauve lips that curled up to reveal a hint of two dimples when she smiled. Neighbors were keen on mentioning her beautiful features but her unfortunate weight. "The pretty frump girl," she was known as on Wishbone Avenue, as she had struggled with her weight since she was in elementary school. Though she was an active teenager, she did have a larger midsection than the other stick thin girls who attended Candlewick High School, which made her feel more like a giant compared to them.