What if time chose you?
After a tragic and untimely accident, young Evelyn arrives in an afterlife unlike anything she could have imagined. The year is 2701, in a distant land once known as the continent of North America. It is a land for fairytales...
I turn my back to the town square below and am delighted by the scene before me. The house is etched into the hillside, nestled under the same pillared pines I came across in the forest. From the dirt road it appears quaint and cozy –a one-room cottage with a small front door and two lantern-lit windows.
Inside, the entire back wall is a two-story sheet of opaque glass. In the center of the wall, there is a grand stone fireplace with a rustic plank mantle. Everything inside is ethereal. The couch and wall tapestries are rich natural colors and all the furniture is handmade from wood.
The back terrace is built into the edge of a steep, rocky precipice. The one side is riddled with more tall pines and shielded by a thick cover of woods. The other side has a wide-open view of shimmering cliffs and the distant harbor. You can hear the waves crashing against the sandy shore.
I follow Charlotte upstairs. My room is on the side of the house. I have a clear view of the town square through my front window, and another overlooks the cliffs behind the house.
/ / /
I settle onto a pillowed bench and stare down at my hands: my newest pamphlet. On the front it says one word: important. My fingers fumble over the waxy seal embossed with the familiar K symbol.
Deciding it's not worth waiting, I wedge my thumb through the insignia and with one deep breath I open the pamphlet and read the first paragraph.
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Unidentified. There it is again –the tormenting word that reminds me I am nameless and unknown. As far as anybody is concerned, I am unidentified.
I read the first paragraph, noting its nonchalance. Iflip to the next page and find a stenciled acronym: H.A.S.M.A.V.
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How can I be expected to know everything? What if I fail? Where will I go then? I slam the pamphlet pages together and crease the binding. I toss it on the table and it soaks in the condensation from my water glass.
The air is cool, the sky light with colors. My eyes wander to the docks, all carefully aligned with the sandy beach. Giant wooden ships and minute boating vessels line the pier.
