Opus

Wayland Middle School's Literary Magazine

At the Edge of the Journey by Julia Callini

Written By: Rachel Barker - Jun• 10•16

When my heart stops pounding, that’s when I’ll open my eyes.  

When I open my eyes, that’s when I’ll start breathing.  

To see the wreckage laid out in front of me, destroyed like a bomb hit it.

To see the people laying limp, their faces destroyed.  

Destroyed and slain with defeat.   

It destroyed me.

Am I the only one still breathing?

I’m still breathing… Am I alive?

The first time I set eyes to the forest I knew it was trouble.

An adventure: trouble and danger.

It’s tall, dark trees growing up, up higher and higher,

higher than any pair of eyes, even green ones, like mine can  see.

 Green eyes, bright green like the leaves on the trees.  

It’s part of my identity.

Myself and all the other people in Aria.

Aria.

Our first leader’s name.

My name, her name and a prison to both of us.

A blessing and a curse.  

The name that binds me to royalty, to the throne, to the inheritance.  

I don’t want any of it.  

I can always remember people doing things for me.  Cooking, cleaning; I never took any responsibility.  Responsibility is non-existent when you are a young Crowned.  Then all at once, when you are preparing to be Crowned, responsibility comes crashing down on you like a tidal wave, drowning you in duties and responsibilities.

The crowned say that the worst part is the being crowned- there are numerous exams and tests to even be considered; many people have broken down once the crown is actually placed upon their head.

The Crowning seems so perfect.  A new leader, stepping up, receiving the crown as if there has never been a greater moment.   Maybe it is perfect, but I just don’t see it.

The forest is like my dreams: big, tall, vast, and impossible to get to and through.

I’ve made it this far.  What’s stopping me now?  

My name?

My honor?

Or my own fear of breaking away

from anything that I have ever known?  

It’s my own stupidity.  

Some call it bravery, but it  wasn’t brave.  

It was stupid and reckless, like me.

Like me, but no others.

The others were the same – perfect in every way.  

Just like Aria herself.

No reckless or stupid decisions would be made.  

Which is why I need to escape.  

To escape the perfect.  

A girl with a burlap tunic and striped bandana comes in, rolling in a box of cloth– probably to make my Crowning dress.  There is a step I’ve tripped over several times, so was no surprise that her toe hit the step, and she tumbled down.  Her striped bandana fell off to reveal brown hair and blue eyes.  She must be from Abra, the artistry section.  The Crowned in Abra,  Corree Stratz, was my favorite Crowned of the five sectors.  He was always so nice to me, and treated me like an adult, even when I was a child.  I don’t see him very often; our families have disagreed politically for the past three years.

Crunchy dirt filled with rocks and pebbles sits below my feet.

Where is sleep when there is no where to sleep?  

I shouldn’t be afraid; I made this decision.  

The woods are trees, the trees are wood.

It is what lives in the wood that scares me.

Uneasiness lives in the air and circles the trees like snakes,

biting away at confidence.  

Something hits me and my stomach drops

like the glass elevators in The Palace.

The ones where I would play in, trying to get high enough in the building to see beyond the walls of the castle;

to what life was like outside of The Crowned.

I went on my way to to learning one thing– life outside The Palace is in a different realm from the Crowned.  

I instantly run to the girl’s side and help her up.  Once she is up on her feet, I turn to my left and walk quickly to pick up the first of three boxes.  Once I pick the box up, I pick up the cart as well and load the first box on it.  For a large box, it is surprisingly light!

She starts murmuring an apology, and when she looks up, her face with her shock.

“I am sorry sorry, your highness.  Please forgive me!, I should have been more careful and been–” she sputtered out.  I cut her out before she could talk anymore.

“It’s really okay, it doesn’t matter” I told her.

“Oh, but it does!” She wailed.  “You’re going to take away my pay, for disrupting your day, aren’t you?”.

I was genuinely shocked.  Why would I take away her pay for tripping, when she clearly needed the money?

“I wouldn’t take away your pay.  In fact,”  I thought quickly “How much will you get paid for this delivery?” I asked.

“Fifty centas” she responded.  Fear shook in her voice.

I fished out my wallet from my back pocket and handed her all I had in there: about 350 centas.  I gave it to her, and her voice shook like she was about to cry.

“I can’t, I can’t!”  She backed away and shook her head no.

“Why not?”

“I’m so sorry I disrupted your day”.

And with that, she ran off, leaving me with three dresses and no name.

Two fences separate

Two worlds

Neither of which I am welcome in.  

Knowing you aren’t welcome

Feels worse than anything.

I am not alone and surrounded.  I am alone and alone.

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