Another week down. The weather has officially shifted, introducing the new brisk autumn air to Kemper Square. It's cool and crisp, my favorite time of year.
The town prepares for the harvest. Wooden barrels are stationed at every cross-path in town; people continue to fill them with crops, nuts, berries, twigs, and more.
Kemper Square and the plaza have been redecorated and transformed into a seasonal wonderland. Festoons of rustic foliage, berries, and pinecones crisscross the rooftops, linking both sides of the promenade together and creating an ethereal ceiling for the courtyard.
Twigs are stacked high, arranged in a pattern under the Bramble Court sign. Fall leaves are woven into the crooked fences; the smell of bonfire lingers in the air. The Confectionary has begun brewing hot mulled cider. Charlotte and William warned me Kemper Square is a tourist town. The refugees are sort of an attraction. Since it is located near the only remaining portal, people travel from all over to see the refugees in real-life.
Over the next week, boatloads of tourists will arrive by riverroads and some by horseback, all settling in for the holiday season. It starts in mid-November with the Twigs and Figs Festival –a sort of Thanksgiving, carries on through the first snowfall and culminates at Christmastime, with Winterberry.
At the Mill Pub, Ced brews his own unique ales infused with ingredients unique to Kemper. Tourists buy them by jugs and stock up for their trips home. For the festival season Ced introduces his harvest ales: Smoky Trail, Ginger Pumpkin, and Cherrywood.
Charlotte and I walk to the conference room outside the Registry on the second floor of the hospital. I'm meeting with Bishop and Smyth for my first daily check-up. Inside, the hospital is just as I remember it –cold, airy and nothing like a hospital.
"Proceed up." The receptionist waves us up.
Dr. Bree Bishop emerges from behind the Registry. She looks as I remember her –tall and lean with curly black hair.
"Miss Evelyn Katton," she hisses through gritted teeth. Not much of a greeting.
"Yes." I nod my head. She eyes me suspiciously for a moment before returning to her paperwork.
"Pleased to see you're looking well, Miss Katton," she says flatly. "Please follow me into the room and we shall begin."
I follow Bishop down the short hall into the conference room, keeping close to Charlotte. Tin Smyth is already seated across the table.
"You really do look excellent, Evelyn" he says. "I cannot tell you how pleased I am to see you are doing well. And remembering your name! Remember anything else?" he inquires.
"Not yet," I utter.
I have had a string of fleeting moments of clarity –déjà vu if you will. I feel connected yet distant at the same time. For the most part, it is mainly glimpses of figures and shapes that are too distorted to make out.
"Well, soon then. Keep thinking positively," he assures me and pats my shoulder. I smile and thank him.
"Evelyn," Dr. Bishop calls. "This is check-up consultation one of the three required before your re-Evaluation. Do you have any questions thus far?" She finishes.
"No." I shake my head.
"She's been handling herself exceptionally," Charlotte venerates.
YOU ARE READING
ARRIVAL (ERA 1)
FantasíaWhat 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...
