Dawn

A sneak peek at my WIP... hope you enjoy!!

The first snowfall of autumn. I can smell it before I wake up. My boarding room has one window, and it’s always open. My skin tingles and my breathing quakes, but the cold is invigorating. If I could remember home, I think it would feel like this.

I blink my eyes open and squint against the blinding white rays of reflected sun. Lifting my head up from the pillow, I twist my body around so that I’m facing the window. About three inches of snow lines my windowsill in a neat little pile, water dripping sluggishly from the bottom down to the floor. Dappled sunlight dances across the floor, illuminating the whole room. I tug the quilt tighter around my shoulders, wrapping myself in its warmth. My voice comes out as a whisper.

“Home,” I say. “Snow means I’ll be going home soon.” The slightest smile pulls at my mouth. I haven’t heard anything from the city in nearly ten years. I’m guessing not much has changed, I only wish I could remember the way it was. The doctors say that’s normal, though. Nothing to worry about. Past memories naturally fade during the Learning, but we will soon regain all that knowledge when we return.

I slide out of bed, my bare feet cringing against the cold floor. I grimace and hop over to the dresser for a pair of socks.

There’s one thing the doctors can’t explain though. They can’t tell me why I keep seeing things that feel as real as the sun on my back. They can’t understand the visions that accost me nearly every day, haunting my life like a curse. When I bring it up I’m received with averted glances and hushed whispers. They’re probably telling each other I’m insane, which might not be entirely false. Surely anyone who has been cooped up and injected for a decade would be near lunacy.