1. The Devils Number


I'm sitting on my brother's bed, re-counting a lost world.

Yet im not here at all am I? I am Lea, wondering the forest plains. Climbing every tree.

Foraging the caves for verification of my fantasizing.

Yet again I find some unexplainable force pulling me back

Oh how I wish I had acres of wonderland, but I cannot fight the reality that is tugging on the loose threads of my mind. I can feel myself drifting between reality and fantasy.

"Lea? Lea!"

My humble little brother of 7years was calling my name. Annoying little pest.

"Ok, goodnight" I exclaimed abruptly.

His gaze warped into a state of confused pondering.

"But you haven't finished the story??"

"There's always next time. Keep the suspense up" My art of diversion saves me once again.

"Ok. Goodnight!" His innocent face brightened up with anticipation as I left him for another night.

Walking along a hallway of grey I am disappointed once again.

I lock my eyes on the brown carpet.

The only area of the apartment that doesn't force illusory and realism to collide; I let the fibres absorb me. Maybe there is a way through the carpet to my idealistic lifestyle.

I go through another doorway, the bathroom.

I know this apartment like the back of my hand, every one does. They are all the same.

Little gold numbers are the only things separating them;

If you can remember them. 436, I reassured myself. I haven't lost it yet. Some would think so though; the freak with dreams is what they call me. 'They' being school kids, naturally.

Some people get hope from their possessions, the bigger the better.

Others from their families, whole and complete.

Some even from school, the only escape from the real them, relying on their persona to make them feel secure.

I, on the other hand, depend on my daydreams, primarily.

My escape from the real world is the only thing keeping my sanity.

Where would I be without it? I also draw, another way to detach my mind from my degrading life.

Not many people understand that.

When you look at my situation it is a lot better then some, I have a mum, dad, brother. A stable home environment with a middle class income.

Normal.

Except for Lea, the detachment, the oddity. The shunned sibling.

They don't understand so they ignore.

Except my best friends, they mean the world to me. Alice and Zoe, they are my life, if you ask them they will tell you a very different story of what I have just told you. Maybe Alice will describe me as completely normal but her head right in the clouds.

While Zoe, the deeper of the two, will almost certainly describe me as,

A child born into the wrong part of the great timeline.

Which is a statement I have repeatedly pondered on. Maybe I was, it certainly seems like it. Constant dreaming of the life outside. Not as it is now of course. Dark, smog ridden swamp lands of oil pollution, dead carcasses and machinery is not what occupies my mind.

But how it was before this. Around the time when my great great great etc grandmother was alive. The times of the horse and carriage.

A time where there were lush green hills, mountains with ice-caps, rivers, and seas. All the life you could possibly dream of, and trust me, I do dream of them.

When the population was just 6billion, not 600billion.

Sure the oxygen tank, food through a tube life - where the closest thing you could find to real water was your own tears - was good for the general, boring business man but not for a young girl like me, full of spirit, rearing to get out there and just lie on the grass and look at the stars.

The more I grow up the faster these dreams are fading. As responsibilities start press themselves harder and harder on my dwindling spirit. In only a few years my time at Luna tower High will be up, and the small confined tower life world awaits me.

I remember my first day at school.

To get to high school, I have to pass through 2 towers, luckily connected by a little corridor, then up the cranky old elevator and to the right, which is a lot to remember as a frightened 13 year old.

I was sent out of the house with no guidance except for a rough directional map, which, conveniently was at the bottom of my more innocent, forever-wandering mind.

Not helping was the fact that I had been pre-occupied by mum taking photos of me, and generally getting all worked up, as mothers do.

As soon as I stepped out of the elevator ride down 58 floors, I had forgotten everything.

Before long I was a hopelessly lost freak, a lone high school student wondering the streets.

Eventually I called home and got mum to walk me to school 15m late. I will never forget that day.

I'm surprised I made any friends at all; first impressions are meant to be everything.

I plopped down onto my state of the art hover bed, aimlessly fixating my gaze at my many trophies for being the best at stuff that didn't matter. I glance down at a picture of my great great etc gandmother, riding a horse on the beach.

I bet she didn't have half the stuff I do, no one of that time would. But I would swap all my stuff just to be where she is now. Free. Alive! Breathing in the sweet, fresh air. But I had to face the facts; I was in the year 6,666; the devils number, extended by one extra 6, which is just what this place is.

Hell. And more.

The world's ecosystem had collapsed years ago, now all that was left of the world was, us. And it's quite easy to get enough of 'us'

I see 'us', everyday. I hated that;

How we interfere with everything.

The earth was supposed to die a long time ago, we should have let it die, anything is better than this.

Like keeping a dieing baby alive by life support. It is no life. This is no world.


A/N: Hey, this is SnowflakesOnAshes, here with the first chapter of my first story The Unexplained Instinct I Adore:) I would love to hear your guys opinion on my story :) Please review if you like it, or even if you hate it. Helpful critisism is sometimes the best :) Read NoonSun Reflection by HighOnBrokenWings.