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    1526
    1526
    1526
    Ebook119 pages1 hour

    1526

    By Rena Edgar

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Unwilling to face the bullies at school, 15-year-old Gail Scott has become an expert in the art of hiding, but it is this very evasion that proves problematic when a tornado strikes. Gail finds herself inexplicably transported to an unfamiliar land with no easy way to get back. When she joins up with other wanderers, it becomes increasingly clear that reality as she knew it has ceased to exist.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherRena Edgar
    Release dateMay 25, 2012
    ISBN9781476293332
    1526
    Author

    Rena Edgar

    Rena Edgar is a midwest native who enjoys the finer things in life--that is, if family, friends, cheap coffee, and all things nerdy count as "finer things". She perfers to keep her writing style accessable, but with the occasional, darker twist. She adores the loved ones who support and help her along the way, and her novella, "1526," is dedicated to them.

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      Book preview

      1526 - Rena Edgar

      __________________________

      1526

      Rena Edgar

      Copyright 2012 by Rena Edgar

      Smashwords Edition

      _________________________

      1Chapter 1

      Curling up into a ball and hiding was not, by any stretch of the imagination, one of Gail Scott’s favorite pastimes. That did not mean, however, that she wasn’t good at it. Throughout her fifteen long years of life, Gail had become a master of this forsaken art form.

      With her plain appearance and sprinkling of freckles, she was not the sort who particularly stood out. Unfortunately, it was precisely this that made her the ideal target for certain female peers. They relished in the girl’s waning self-esteem and equated her shy mannerisms to weakness and her caregiving nature to being a veritable sucker. She had always been soft-spoken and nurturing, but, even in the earliest of grades, this translated into pushover. Her aversion to fighting back helped to keep the teasing from ever losing its appeal–to them, at least. Wolves on the prowl, they viewed her as game and made sport of seeing what it took to bring forth tears. She wasn’t afraid to talk to others—secretly, she craved social interaction—but experience with her aggressors taught her to be wary of it. She was always fine with teachers or strangers in passing, such as at the grocery store. Sadly, when it came to befriending others, she gave up trying to get a word in edgewise. After all, what was the point when they only responded by treating her as mess at the bottom of one’s shoe?

      When it had first started, so many years ago, her whole class would get involved and Gail would imagine evading her tormenters to be a game–like playing secret agents or hide-and-seek. She’d see them coming and she’d run for cover, like with so many children’s activities. As time went on, she could not keep tricking herself in order to take the pain out of the reality. With the name-calling and teasing, lies and pranks, with the bullies even going as far as to cut off her ponytail, games of pretend or thoughts of still being fortunate were no longer able to console Gail.

      Though the mob mentality of her class as an entity eventually wore down—a feat first marked when her peers matured enough to stop crossing their fingers to prevent catching her germs—it mellowed into complete disinterest. She had attempted to connect with her fellows. Watching the hot shows, listening to the cool music–she had tried it all, but to no avail. She had even toiled for months at a local field and took on additional chores at her own family’s farm one summer so that she could earn enough money to buy a pair of the ever-popular Silver brand sneakers. Whatever she tried, nothing helped to close the fissure between Gail and her peers. By the time she hit her teen years, the wallflower had grown disillusioned about breaking out of her shell. She settled for trying to ignore the pain in hopes of dulling the aching inside, but this revelation did not make her situation any easier.

      Even when the half-hour drive into town with her uncle no longer felt like a death march to a battle against the world, a clique of females maintained vigilant in their afflictions. Over the years, the jeers and taunts grew harsher, crueler, more painful. As they aged, the level of wording progressed with them. What started off as the childish doody-head and stupid-face became the generic idiot and ugly. Finally, they intensified into more damaging, though not particularly creative, names like unwanted freak and homely tramp.

      After finally admitting the truth to Aunt Emily, her guardian only replied, Sticks and stones, Gail. Sticks and stones. Ignore them and it’ll stop. Her aunt was always good at giving advice, even if it wasn’t always the most applicable.

      Gail’s hope in this suggested mentality had a shorter life span than a mayfly, because no amount of ignoring seemed to deter them. These bullies were privy to the patience of an old guard dog. As Gail found, they never, even in the direst of situations, let up on their fun. It was for this very reason that she remained hiding now.

      Even nestled in the windowless, third floor janitor’s closet, Gail could hear the leaden sheets of rain slamming onto the school roof. The wind howled like titan white noise, and it could be felt as the entire building began to creak and sway.

      Though the wailing alarms cut through the vicious weather and set to work on embroidering a knot in her stomach, Gail preferred taking her chances with the storm over being with the other students as they took safety precautions. It was better than being teased. By now, anything was.

      As dangerous the situation, as great the terror, curling there with the horror-wind beginning to fling away bits of roofing and wrapping around her, Gail almost felt safe....

      ```

      Her head throbbed and pain flowed through her veins with each tight pulse. She scrunched her eyes harder, begging to plunge into the blissful unconscious to make it go away. Regardless, Gail wrenched her eyelids open and found herself immediately regretting this decision.

      Outside. No idea where she was. No familiar surroundings.

      Skull still pounding miserably, the girl stood on shaky legs and took in the landscape. Aside from the browned, beaten trail she was on, Gail saw nothing but cornfields–waves of green as far as her vision reached. A warm sun beat heavily on the rows of endless, food-barren stalks.

      Her body ached, but she looked no worse for wear–a small mercy, indeed. Under her breath, she cursed the storm that had brought her here. If it had to transport her somewhere, why not take her some place she knew? Her bedroom would’ve been nice. Might as well tuck her in for the night, too. The minute thought of a matronly twister gave her the smallest of smiles, though it was immediately replaced by a frown.

      Gail crouched low to the ground and gently pushed a stalk to the side. Only more rows of its brethren behind it...but...she could have sworn that she had seen a small figure....

      Gail closed her eyes and gave herself a light shake. Of course she’d be seeing a little funny–that was to be expected after her ordeal. She was lucky to be alive, let alone in as good of a condition as she was. On the whole, she felt like she was reasonably whole—though she figured it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get checked for a concussion as soon as possible.

      You looking for something?

      Clutching her plaid blouse as if grasping at her erratically trembling heart, Gail bolted to her feet, spinning around and flinging her arms out protectively. Albeit awkward and disjointed, the self-defense proved effective in shoving away the stranger who had appeared beside her.

      Oh! Gail gasped, surprised by the collision. I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize—

      It’s fine, it’s fine, the other replied, laughing weakly before pushing herself up off of the browned path. It’s my fault for sneaking up unannounced.

      Are you sure? Are you alright...?

      Lynn, she shook the girl’s hand. Pleasure.

      The short lady wore simple, solid emerald clothing that felt familiar to Gail. She knew that there was a term for the garb, but the words danced just beyond her tongue’s grasp. Her appearance was one of a maternal sort—but a vague guess at the woman’s age claimed that, if she was a mother, any youth of hers would only be several years junior to Gail, herself.

      The lady gave her pants a quick sweep to remove the dust and dead foliage. You seem a little out of sorts, to say the least. Sharing’s caring, you know. Anything I can help you with?

      I’ll be honest—I don’t know where to being, and I know that sounds stupid. I’m so lost...so confused....I don’t even know where I am.

      Pretty much the middle of nowhere. Lynn smiled warmly, starting to give a casual shrug. She stopped mid-action and cocked her head to the side as the youth’s words sunk in. "You don’t know where we are? How did you get here in the first place if you don’t know where ‘here’ is?

      Well, you’re probably going to say I’m crazy....

      Go on, I won’t laugh. Promise, she pressed, intrigue shining through her eyes.

      With a solid level of slow hesitancy throughout—and certainly leaving out the painful details of the bullying that served as the why in her decision against seeking proper shelter—Gail regaled the lady with her bout in the storm and desperate attempt to escape it.

      For such a thing to happen...I’d never have guessed it possible.

      "So, you do believe me?" Nothing was done to remotely help her situation, but the fact that someone didn’t write her off as certifiable and immediately start fitting her for a comfy white coat

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