This is the Second Place Winner of our Fantasy Contest! Congrats Piper!!!
My parents knew I was gifted from the moment I was born, when I came out with a head full of rosy pink hair. Sure, my gift didn’t actually develop until I was five, but the unnatural hair color was a dead giveaway, and being born “Gifted” was actually a curse. My mom cried. My dad punched a few walls. And then life went on. I was raised under their tender and loving care until I was six, the age when people start to ask questions. I wasn’t in school, after all, and my parents rarely took me out in public. No one could know I was gifted. The staff at the hospital had been paid into silence when I was born. And at six years old, I shoved a piano through a wall. Don’t be fooled, it wasn’t like I had super strength or anything, no, it was nothing like that. It was the gift of music. Or rather, to control musical instruments. Not much help in a fight, but to be able to play the piano, violin, cello and flute all at the same time, and with only my mind to top it all off? You better believe I could make some pretty amazing music. And it wasn’t just instruments, it was—well—anything. Anything capable of forming sound that can be transformed into music, I could control. But it wasn’t telekinesis either, that was different too. It was simply the raw, unadulterated gift of sound. Of musical sounds, played in unison to make something beautiful. And so, at six years old I was sent to Miss Lavinia Gooding’s Academy for the Gifted. At first I resented my parents for sending me away, I figured they must have hated me, and I was too young to fully understand the situation. But as I grew older I realized that it wasn’t their fault. It was to protect me. It was where every child like me was sent when their gift started to become uncontrollable. Then I started to resent myself. Why did I have to be one of the “Gifted” ones? Why couldn’t I have been born normal so I could live a normal life like ninety percent of the world did? Over time, I grew to accept that as well, and then the only thing I resented was the fact that I would never play my music outside the academy walls. So why was I born with pink hair when it had absolutely nothing to do with my gift? I have no idea. But my hair is pink and I play music and I’m okay with that. In fact, the music part I love. The hair part I’ve grown used to. It’s a part of who I am. It defines me. Which is why I’ll never change it. Just like I’ll never play my music outside these academy walls. I don’t think much of anything in my life will change. Or at least I didn’t, until one day one of the students disappeared and the gate was found wide open. The gate we were told never to pass through. I sat in the music room, my fingers lying listlessly over the black and white keys. Even though I could play the instrument by mere thought, there was something about playing it the normal way. Feeling the contact of the keys against my skin. But on that day, the instrument remained silent. I wanted to play—there was scarcely a moment when I didn’t—but on that particular day I felt especially preoccupied, my mind filled with all manner of thoughts. It could have been the extra assignments Miss Gooding had given us, or maybe it was the strange way Jenny had been acting. Or it could have simply been a lack of caffeine. Whatever it was, I didn’t like it. When the music didn’t flow, something was definitely off. Sighing, I slid my fingers from the keys and crossed to the other end of the room, where a huge floor-to-ceiling window looked out into the forest. Forest. It was all I saw, all day every day. The Academy was nestled in some remote area of the world where trees were abundant and humans nonexistent. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure where exactly we were. No one knew aside from Miss Gooding. A creaking sound met my ears, the sound of rusty hinges in dire need of oiling, and I pulled my gaze from the window to find Avery slipping into the room. She closed the door behind her, then tiptoed toward the window, stopping beside me. She stared outside for a few moments before resting green eyes on me. “What are you looking at?” I laughed. “Something that isn’t there.” She glanced out again, biting her lower lip, her brow puckered in thought. Avery wasn’t much for humour. “Lunch is ready. Miss Gooding sent me to get you.” I nodded, chewing my thumb nail. “Thanks. I’ll be there soon.” My gaze drifted back toward the window, to that blasted green forest. Why couldn’t a skyscraper sprout from the ground? At least it would be something different. Avery turned to leave, then paused, looking back at me. “Is everything okay, Malorie? I didn’t hear any music today.” She’d noticed. I suppose everyone probably had. They had all grown accustomed to my music. To my playing in the afternoons. I sighed again, dropping my hand to my side. “I’m fine. I’m just… there seems to be a lot on my mind today.” She studied me for a few silent moments, then turned and exited the room with another round of hinge creaking. Leaving behind the creaky hinges and noiseless instruments, I slipped from the room and started down the long, polished hall toward the dining room. The academy was large but not overabundant. There were currently thirteen students under its roof and a dozen bedrooms, half of which sat unused. Miss Gooding believed companionship was the key to understanding oneself and so insisted on two students per room. Aside from the bedrooms, the academy boasted one huge library, a music room, a dining room and breakfast nook, a kitchen, one classroom and a large living area. It was all very 1800’s, right down to the hand carved banisters on the stairs. And everything, all of the wood in the place, was kept polished to perfection. I wasn’t even sure who kept it up. We didn’t have a maid, and I never saw miss Gooding lift a finger. The double doors leading to the dining room stood open, as they always did during the day, and I hurried into the room, taking my seat at the table. I gave a quick glance around those already seated. “Where’s Jenny?” Jenny was my best friend and roommate, and lately she’d been more absent during meals than not. I was really starting to worry about her. Miss Gooding, who sat in her place at the head of the table, gave me a cursory glance. “She’s your roommate, Malorie. I was hoping you could tell us that.” I shrugged, dropping my gaze to the empty plate in front of me. Miss Gooding cleared her throat. “Let us say grace.” Hands were held, heads were bowed, and grace was said. During the meal I ate in silence, listening to the fragmented bits of conversation that met my ears and throwing the occasional glance toward the gaping doorway. About halfway through the meal, Jenny decided to make an appearance, dressed in her usual baggy black sweater and converse. Miss Gooding gave her a disapproving look. “Jenny, you know the rules about dressing out of uniform during the day.” Jenny lowered into her seat. “I don’t see why we even need uniforms. It’s not like we ever see anyone.” Miss Gooding only glared at the remark. She and Jenny went over this same thing about once every other day. I cleared my throat—loudly—exchanged a look with Jen, then glanced around the rest of the table. Cole winked at me, and I quickly dropped my gaze to my plate, a blush warming my cheeks. Cole was a year older than me and the oldest student at the academy. He was also extremely good looking. Not that that mattered. “After lunch I’d like you all to spend some time outside.” That was Miss Gooding’s way of telling us she wanted peace and quiet the rest of the afternoon. The meal was quickly concluded and I grabbed Jenny’s hand, dragging her outside and to our favorite hangout. It was an old shack, about half a mile from the academy, that was built up on stilts and had a swing extending from the side of it that swung out over a cliff. Why it was there and who built it remained a mystery. We reached the shack and I flung Jenny onto the swing. “You were late again.” She curled her fingers around the weathered ropes, extended her legs and pushed out over the cliffside, sending a rush of unease through my midsection. I could never handle watching anyone swing on that thing. “Jen?” She laid her head back as she continued to swing. “Don’t you ever tire of all the rules Lavinia crams down our throats?” I bit my lip. “Miss Good—“ “I mean, she practically has us in a box.” “She does not have us in a box.” “Doesn’t she?” She swung faster. “Wear this. Study that. Be to a meal at exactly this time or suffer her oh-so-terrifying look of disapproval.” I chewed my thumbnail. There was never any getting anywhere with Jenny. “She has a lot of rules and schedules but I think it helps keep order to things. Someone has to—“ Jenny laughed, stirring up dirt as she brought herself to a stop. “Why do you always justify everything she does?” “Why do you always have to go against everything?” “I don’t go against everything. But it’s been the same thing ever since we got here. Don’t you ever want change?” A coy smile slid onto her face. “Don’t you want to see what’s on the other side of that gate?” My brows went up. “The gate? Why would you even say that?” Jenny shrugged, still smiling, then swung out again. “I don’t know. It’s hard not to wonder what’s beyond it.” I lowered myself down onto the lowest step leading up to the shack. “It’s the one place she told us absolutely never to go. Don’t even think about it, Jen.” “Who said I was thinking about it?” A twig snapped, and moments later Cole stepped out from the forest. “I thought I’d find you two here.” He brushed a dry leaf from his hair, then lowered down on the step beside me. “Whatcha talking about?” “The gate.” Jenny offered all too readily. Cole was the last person I would want to get that idea planted into his head. He and Jenny were way too alike and it scared me a little. “What about the gate?” “Nothing.” I quickly stood, my hand resting on the railing. “Have you ever been inside this place?” “Way to change the subject, Mal.” Jenny hopped from the swing, looking up at the shack. “It gives me the creeps.” Cole stood to his feet. “I vote we check it out.” “I vote we don’t.” I threw Jenny a look of surprise. “You? Miss Daredevil? You were just talking about how you wondered what was beyond the gate but you vote against going inside the shack?” “The gate is outside. Clearly whatever is beyond it is an open space. The shack is all confined and small and up on stilts with nowhere to run. What if there’s a dead body inside?” Cole laughed, and I had to hold a little laughter back myself. “I highly doubt that.” “Why? Because it’s so peaceful here? Doesn’t mean it’s always been. Someone had to have built it, and I don’t think that someone was Lavinia.” “Someone had to have built the academy too, and I know that wasn’t Lav—Miss Gooding, but you still went inside.” “More like I was forced to go inside.” Cole shook his head, starting up the creaky steps. “I’m checking it out whether you girls want to or not.” I stared after him, threw Jenny another look, then started up the stairs myself. Each step creaked and groaned and for a moment I wondered if climbing up these weather-battered stairs was the brightest of ideas. The railing was warped and peeling, making it impossible to grab onto it without getting a sliver or twelve. When Cole reached the top he paused a moment. Maybe he was also rethinking this whole thing. Then he looked down at me, a half smile tugging at his lips. “So, you want to go first or should I?” I ascended the final step, stopping just behind him. “You go ahead.” My voice trembled a little, but it wasn’t from fear of what might be inside. No, it was the fact that I was terrified of heights. Sweat moistened my palms and I reached out to curl a hand around Cole’s arm. “Here goes nothin’.” He reached for the doorhandle, bronzy and rusted with age, then swung the door open. The hinges groaned, and the door stopped about halfway, probably warped from years of abandonment. It was dark inside the shack, only a thin sliver of light seeping through a thinly draped window. Cole gave the door another shove and this time it banged into the connecting wall. We both stared inside. “So what’s inside?” Jenny called from her place at the bottom of the stairs. “It’s…” Cole began. “Empty.” I finished, staring into the dusty shell of a room. “What? You’re kidding!” The stairs groaned as Jen hurried up them, taking two at a time. “Wow, you really weren’t kidding.” She slipped passed us and into the shack. Cole and I followed. The floor and walls were paneled with the same wood and painted in peeling gray paint. Aside from a single light hanging from the ceiling and the tattered curtains over the shack’s lone window, the place was completely empty. “So, what, the previous owner either took all of their belongings or the place was never used to begin with.” Jen scraped the toe of her shoe against the peeling paint. “If that were the case, why bother putting a curtain in the window?” I glanced toward it, gauzy red and green plaid. “Let’s try the light.” Cole suggested. He reached up to pull the cord, but instead of the room filling with light, it dimmed with a purplish glow. My eyes widened in surprise. “What the—” Jen began, but her sentence broke off when she spotted what Cole and I had already noticed. Splayed across the floor in a bold, eerie script were these words: The gifted will fall. And then the floorboards gave out.
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