The Knife Thrower

Chapter 1

"The year is 2247 and two hundred and thirteen years ago, the world fell apart. A global empire that shattered into a thousand pieces, collapsing and disintegrating into ash and dust. A land and a people of diversity and prosperity, forever hidden under two hundred years of poverty and Russian influence.

None of the history books agree on what caused such a devastating destruction, a population of ten billion, reduced to some dozen-million, but they all describe the horrors. Cities left deserted, bodies littering every road, rampant crime and rotting crops. The parliament collapsed, the survivors grieving and falling into poverty, problematic countries passing blame and declaring war.

The world was ending.

The world would have self-destructed completely, had not a brave and intact nation stepped forward, and seized control. Russia declared a new era. They seized control of a broken world, of a people begging to be reassured and desperately seeking a leader. The years leading up to 2034 became known as 'Thē Protsvetat,' the Russian word for 'The Flourish.' Russia became the leading power, Moscow the capital city and the Kremlin the government of the new world. Society was hence renamed, Russia became Courtmoorill and created a peace treaty between their existing neighbours Faircosta (East-Asia) and New Europe, merging into one continent, Zemlya, Russian for 'land.' Twenty Courtmoorian men were elected to serve as Zemlya's, and the worlds, government. Southern and Western America became Murtié, and the small portion of Australia that was still inhabited, Perth, became Relang. Murtié and Relang signed the same Courtmoorian peace treaty, 'Thē Silvat'sya' for 'The Coalesce,' as dominions of Zemlya.

A unity that brought forth peace and prosperity, where the only laws were to never leave your home country and to never defy your government.

Forever we shall owe our survival as a nation, a people and an individual to Courtmoorill and forever we shall stay loyal to our government." I say, staring into the mirror.

Today is my turn to recite the Loyalty speech, a mandatory declaration of one's loyalties and the history of our nation in front of one's grade. My hands shake and I take a deep breath. I just have to do it. Get it over with. But if they suspect me of lying, of not whole-heartedly believing what I say... I will be branded a traitor and sent to prison.

It's not that I am not loyal to my country and government, but I am in violation of my own speech. One of the laws set by Relang's government, is that only men can learn to fight or join an army. I have been secretly getting fighting lessons for some time now.

I step away from the cracked and speckled mirror and pick up my school bag. I shut my door on the way out and nearly crash into my sister Izzy.

"Whoa," I say and grab her to keep us from falling over, "You're out in a hurry." She rearranges her book bag and flips her chin-length, wavy blonde hair out of her face.

"Have you seen the time?" She laughs as we walk down the stairs.

"No, should I have?" I ask as we step into the kitchen. "Are we late?"

"Yep," is her response and I shake my head. We always seem to be running late. Maybe it's because we are three kids growing up virtually alone.

"Kyra! Kyra!" My little brother Jay calls out from one of the kitchen chairs, munching on sloppy porridge. All we can afford for breakfast. "You are going to miss the porridge; it is easier to swallow while it's hot." I walk over and give him a hug, wiping his sticky fingers with a cloth.

Mother has an important job in government headquarters, and so does dad, but his work means he travels. Dad is overseas most of the time, and has been gone for the last sixteen weeks. We don't know when he'll be back. And Mother spends all hours in her office. Some days I'm not even sure if she is coming home at all.