Creative Writing: Prequel

The Search for Belonging

Simone Miller (2022)

“It’ll just be for a few months; you don’t have to be so bloody dramatic about it,” Ralph’s dad ruffled his son’s hair. “Once I’m off duty, I’ll pick you right up and we’ll have a mighty fine cuppa tea together.” Ralph stared glumly out of the cab window. Raindrops and condensation glimmered with caught light on the glass like liquid stars.

On the ride to the academy, he had drawn two parental stick figures on either side of a child figure feeding a shoddily scribbled horse. The cavemen-like sketches held the artistic prowess of a particularly uncoordinated 12-year-old. Ralph was going to draw their beachside cottage in the background. He was interrupted when the car puttered to a stop.

“Why do I have to go away? Why can’t I stay with Mum?” Ralph’s bottom lip quivered slightly. His father sighed and looked off into the distance.

“You know how it is, son. Your mother and I have been…out of sorts lately,” he said, not meeting Ralph’s eyes. With a start, he lurched out of the car and into the pouring rain. A minute later, he returned with a rusty leather suitcase and thrust it into his son’s arms. “Don’t be narky; make your Mum and me proud, son.”

And with that endearing statement, Ralph was tossed out onto the curb. The car door slammed shut, driving away with a consistent put put put. It rounded the corner and disappeared behind the neat rows of rowan trees and fancy houses. The only sound was of the rain pouring down from the skies and the sloshing of it inside the gutters. The little boy, fair hair darkened by the rain and clinging to his forehead like a squid, turned around to cower before the looming brick building.

---

Ralph shuffled nervously in line, the uncomfortable starchy gray fabric of his uniform prickling his skin. Hundreds of boys were standing in a wobbly single-file line headed for the same place: the barber. Ralph had been waiting anxiously for the past two hours, scuffing his feet on the campus lawn. There was an early autumn chill in the air, one that blew past children and sent papers flying. Wind seeped through the thin fabric of their knee-high socks and ruffled soon-to-be chopped-off hair, a solemn farewell. Twenty peers remained between Ralph and the door. After receiving their haircut, the children streamed out of a heavy door to the left of the line. They were experimentally touching the coarse stubs of their buzzcuts. He sighed and stared at the passing clouds in the sky, imagining the wispy clouds merging to form different animals.

A gruff voice broke the daydreaming, “Next!” He stumbled forward, pushing through a squeaky wooden door worn down by thousands of child's hands over the years. The barber, a balding stocky man with a gray stubble of a beard, directed him to a metal chair in the middle of the room. Yellow ceiling lights flickered dimly, and Ralph wondered how the barber could give proper haircuts in the lighting. It turned out that he didn’t need light to lop off a schoolboy’s hair. As soon as he slid into the freezing metal chair, a buzzing sound filled the air. Ralph felt his hair shaved off in haphazard clumps. Blonde wisps of hair fluttered to the floor, laying to rest with the mountains of brothers, doused in the cold golden light.

The barber growled at him to leave. When Ralph didn’t respond, he gave the chair a sharp shove and sent the schoolboy stumbling out the door. Just as he regained his balance on the doorstep, a strong wind slapped him. Icy fingers gripped Ralph’s neck, devoid of the familiar locks of hair. Blinking tears out of his eyes, he stared at the brilliant blue sky, wondering if he would ever belong in such a heartless world.

---

“This is a golden opportunity for such young men like you,” Mr. Lewis announced. “The winner of the talent show will join the traveling choir of the neighboring school on their way to their next performance in Greece. The fellow will not get off scot-free, however. A special project will be assigned to him alone. The details will be disclosed privately.” Ralph’s class chattered excitedly, their eyes bright with possibility. The traveling choir was an elite group belonging to their school’s rival, Pinkerton Academy. Everyone knew of them, but nobody knew them. Most of the students had stars in their eyes for an all-expenses-paid trip. Ralph, however, sought the escape.

He had made a few mates, sure. But good old Tom and Peirce were always in different classes. Tom’s reckless demeanor also inexplicably disturbed Ralph. His constant wisecracks and stupid stunts got on his nerves. Ralph was (as many of his peers called him) a teacher’s pet. He figured out that by sucking up to the teachers for a few years, he could graduate with a clean slate and never have to go to school again. But he was getting tired of trying so hard. So naturally, Ralph wanted to get away from Penthurst Academy as soon as possible.

Even though he hated being at the school, the fair-haired boy was getting accustomed to his environment. His sloppy buzzcut was growing on him, the stray pieces that used to poke him in the eyes shaved off. Sometimes, Ralph relished the feeling of tugging on the uniform gray sweaters and assembling them in neat lines for attendance. The consistent routine and order appealed to him. Hopefully, Ralph would win the talent show. The only obstacle now would be to figure out his act.

---

Ralph’s shaky breath sent faint clouds of condensation floating around the cold stage. The black curtains were closed, but he could hear the bustling hum of the audience hiding behind them. He imagined them sitting restlessly in the cafeteria chairs, talent show pamphlet in hand. In bold letters on the second page: first act, Raplh Henderson, piano. Ralph assumed the editors intentionally spelled his name wrong, but it was too late to change it. Said piano was an old grand rooted to the center stage; the wooden cover the rich color of rust. It seemed to live and grow in the spotlight as if it belonged there all its life. A layer of dust wiped off when Ralph’s fingers made contact with the cream-colored keys. He took a deep breath and pierced apprehensively on the cracked leather piano bench.

"Gentlemen and ladies, welcome to the 34th annual Penthurst Academy talent show!” Mr. Lewis exclaimed. His voice boomed over the microphone, and the audio feedback made an ear-bleeding screech noise. Ralph jumped a little in his seat. He could almost see the audience wincing. “Tonight you will bear witness to the works of these talented young boys. They have been practicing for months for this very show. So I kindly ask you and your mates to show the utmost respect to our performers. And without further ado, our first performance by,” Mr. Lewis paused. The sound of rustling papers shuffling through the microphone. Ralph knew he was looking at the pamphlet. “Ra…plh Henderson on the piano!”

The curtains whisked open. A blinding spotlight illuminated the stage, making the once annoying dust specks glow like fallen snow. The schoolboy could feel prying eyes pinned to his back. He took a deep breath and placed his fingers on the keys.

The notes resonated through the room, echoing through the cafeteria walls and the audience's souls like ripples through a still lake. Fingers fluttered across the keys, from the lowest octave to the highest pitch. Every chord sent a buzzing vibration through the floor, dancing up his feet and into his soul. Underneath the rhythm, he could hear the soft tap of the keys pressing down. Ralph lost himself in the melodies, floating like a butterfly in a summer breeze. The audience disappeared, and it was just the pianist and the piano.

Too soon, the song ended. The schoolboy struck the final chord with satisfaction, and the audience erupted. Ralph turned around into the blinding lights, his face flushing. He could barely make out the silhouettes of a standing audience, clapping and whooping. Bowing down, Ralph’s face cracked into an infectious smile.

---

The airport around Ralph buzzed with the happy chatter of humans. He was standing off to the side of the Pinkerton choir boys, clutching his boarding ticket in one hand and suitcase in the other. The fair-haired boy was starkly contrasting with the uniform black caps and cloaks of the choir. They had reached their gate for the Athens flight, and the rest of their fellow passengers milled about, making pleasant conversation.

A boy with curly wisps of hair sat in the row of seats, his face scrunched up from peering at the world through thick-lensed glasses. He was clad in a rain jacket, clearly not of the British school-boy variety. Several seats away from him, a choir boy with dark hair peeked around the gate with bright eyes. Some other schoolchildren were there since they decided to treat the runners-up to the trip. Ralph had won first place, though. A few adult chaperones roamed around, making sure everything was in order. There were a concerning few of them.

This thought plagued him for a few minutes, but he swatted it away like an annoying gnat. A peppy flight attendant with a red ascot herded them away and collected their boarding passes. She shepherded the rowdy boys into the aircraft and sat them down into seats. Their heads barely reached the headrests. They squirmed around under the tightly-fastened seat belts. Ralph was assigned to a chair next to a choir boy with an alarming shock of red hair peeking out from his cap and a spray of freckles. He had yet to be acquainted with this boy, but he looked like someone who would make an interesting conversation.

Just as Ralph was racking his brain for a conversation starter, the flight attendants stood up in the aisle and called for their attention. The boys turned their heads to watch as they demonstrated how to inflate a life jacket and wear oxygen masks. They only half paid attention because when would they ever need to know that?

---

Ralph wished he had listened to the safety instructions. What started as mild turbulence built into shaky turmoil that shuddered the plane to its core. It reminded him of the time when he was eight years old, bedbound by a terrible case of whooping cough. Every hack felt like iron fists were squeezing his lungs. Now, it seemed as though the stormy sky was clutching the plane like a long-lost toy.

A tearing sound split through the screams of the children. The back of the plane was desperately clinging to the cabin by a few screws. The roof was on fire. Flight attendants frantically yelled out orders to each other. Ralph gripped the armrests of his seat so tight his knuckles turned white. The wind flung away tears that sprang up from his eyes. He frantically tried to recall blurry memories of the safety precautions.

Oxygen masks dropped down from the ceiling. Ralph lunged for his. The choir boy adjacent to him lolled around in his seat, clearly unconscious. Ralph grabbed both of their masks and strapped his on. He fumbled around with the yellow band, almost losing grip of the second mask. Finally, Ralph managed to shove it over the boy’s mouth. He returned to his seat and jammed his eyes shut.

Ralph felt the tail end snap off before he heard it. His planted feet felt the echoes of the metal plates breaking. A terrible groaning sound reached his ears, almost washed away by the howling wind. Ralph did not look but knew that the other half of the plane was gone. Their awkward fall turned into a devastating plummet, and his stomach was left 3,000 meters above them. Ralph blacked out to the sound of screams.

Ralph opened his eyes. He was lying flat on his back on a soft dirt floor. A fern

tickled his cheek. The brilliant blue sky peeked out from a canopy of emerald-green leaves. Birds chirped pleasantly. Ralph blinked, memories flooding back to him. Patches of his hair were ashen and burnt from the fire. His gray sweater, now uncomfortably warm, was in tatters. Miraculously, Ralph was unhurt. He shrugged off the woolen pullover. Stumbling to his feet, the small schoolboy ventured out into the unknown paradise, trailing his sweater behind him.

The Hunter’s Pillow

Jaylynn Valentin (2022)

The wooden bed frame creaked as Jack set down holding his blanket up to his chest as the sound of screaming and glass breaking flooded his ears. He fell back onto his pillow thinking about Saturday in which he will be on a flight to Manchester to attend a musical. He was lost in the ocean of thoughts until the screaming between an angry couple abruptly stopped. Fear filled his body from head to toe as he nervously and slowly arose from his bed to check on what stopped the arguing.

The wooden floor creaked as he tiptoed to his door that towered over him. He grabbed the worn out gold door knob and opened the door. A dimmed yellow light from the living room filled the staircase that was across from Jack's door. He pointed his right foot outside of the door frame and placed it on the worn out floor. He took a deep yet shaky breath as the fear shot through from his toes to his head. He stood at the top of the stairs gripping the railing as he extended his foot on the next step.

Jack gasped as a shadow interrupted the dim yellow light on the front door downstairs. As it was approaching the staircase, Jack quickly turned around and ran to his bedroom, quietly but quickly, closing his door shut. He let out a sigh of relief as the build up of fear was preventing him from breathing. He hid under his blanket again with up and over his nose. He jumped as the door opened with a loud and long creak.

His mom poked her head through the door with a tear stained face and red eyes. Jack’s heart dropped but at the same time, he was relieved she was okay and walking.

She stepped into the room and approached Jack. “I know you don’t like hearing when we argue but your–” the sound of a slamming door interrupted her effort to comfort Jack. He jumped as the vibrations of the slam raced through the floors of the house. Jack’s mom looked into his wide, glossy eyes as she left to go downstairs. The screaming was muffled due to it being outside.

Jack grabbed his musical pillow and hugged it tight. He closed his eyes and let the warm tears run down his face, leaving a salty track on his cheeks. His stomach turned which caused a whimper to escape from his lips. His face cringed and his mouth turned downward as he started to cry. He tried to muffle his cries by crying into his pillow. Thoughts of the argument filled his head. He cried harder as more and more thoughts took over his idea of sleep.

As his lips trembled and his cheeks turned red, he felt the end of his bed dip. He took his face out of his pillow and checked to see what it was. His mom had a worried look on her face as she rubbed his legs assuringly. “Honey, your father and I had a misunderstanding, and he left to take a breath of fresh air,” she calmly said, hoping Jack wouldn’t question it.

“Is that your way of telling me he’s gone for good this time?” Jack mumbled. His mom looked down at her feet and turned her mouth sideways and downward showing a guilt filled expression. Jack turned to face the wall and stared at it a burning sensation formed in his throat from holding in his sobs.

The bed lifted to its normal state as his mom gave him space to cry and process what happened. She left the room with her arms crossed and her lips hidden, pressed together with her eyebrows pointing upwards.

Jack continued to face the wall and blinked. He was standing on a wide, polished wooden stage. Bright show lights were on Jack making him the center of attention. He was facing an area filled with red velvet seats that were split into three massive sections. There wasn’t a single seat that was empty. He looked at his hand that was holding a wired microphone. He was dressed in a suit and dress shoes, but he was confused. He didn’t know what to do until somebody shouted, “We want to hear you sing Jack!” The whole crowd murmured in agreement.

Jack put the microphone up to his mouth and started to sing, “Don’t Fence Me In” by Bing Crosby. He closed his eyes and felt the music control his body as he felt alone even though the backup singers surrounded him. He was singing his heart out and belting the C sharp he always wanted to show off. The crowd erupted in cheers and clapping. He opened his eyes and continued singing with a calming flow as the cheers drowned out the backup singers and band.

As he neared the end of the song, the crowd stood up and roared with cheers and whistles and bright flashes from cameras. Roses were thrown at the stage and landed around his feet. He picked one up and placed it between his teeth, bowing at the crowd. They started chanting, “Jack! Jack! Jack!” He gave a cheesy smile towards the crowd as he was shaken on his shoulder.

“Jack!” his mom whisper-shouted as she hovered above him. He opened his eyes and realized the clock read 4:30am. He quickly got up and rushed to the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was disheveled and his face was filled with sleep. He grabbed the flat handle on his black tooth brush in one hand and in the other, he lightly squeezed the toothpaste bottle. Red blue and white swirled paste covered the bristles of the brush.

His mother was in his room preparing his suitcase and clothes for his trip. He washed the foam out of his mouth and wet his hair. He cleaned his face and slicked his hair down. “Hurry Jack! We don’t have much time before the flight starts boarding!” yelled Jack’s mom. As he entered his room, his clothes were neatly placed on his bed, and he changed into them. He put on his cloak and topped his look off with his hat decorated with a gold badge. He grabbed his suitcase near the front door.

He heard keys jangle and footsteps follow behind him. He opened the front door as moonlight struck him in the face and filled a narrow slice of light on the staircase. A taxi approached the driveway as his mom hurriedly locked the door and rushed over. The driver opened the door and popped open the trunk. He picked up Jack’s suitcase and placed it in the rear of the trunk.

“Thank you, sir,” Jack politely said as he blushed due to the kindness of the man. He sat in the back as the car took off to the airport. His head leaned forward as sleep struck him.

★ ★ ★ ★

Jack was startled awake by the jerking motion of the car. Bright lights illuminated the figure of the windows on the black leather seats of the car. His door opened and his suitcase was awaiting him on the sidewalk. He quickly got out of the car and grabbed the handle on his suitcase. He walked quickly, following his mother to his plane. They made it just in time as the stairs to the plane opened and lay on the ground.

Jack got in the boarding line with his mother as she grabbed his face. “I love you, Jack. Phone me when you land, please,” she said as she kissed him on his forehead.

Jack walked up the stairs and heard his name being called immediately. He spotted boys in the left center section of the plane wearing the exact same outfit as him. He placed his rectangular suitcase in the cupboard designated for suitcase storage. He had the outside seat and sat next to one of his choir members, Roger. They both sat in silence as the door of the airplane closed and was locked.

Everyone buckled their seatbelts due to safety regulations and prepared for take off. The plane started up and moved towards the runway. A sudden burst of power forcefully pushed everyone's bodies back to their seats as the plane soared towards the sky. Jack pulled out his musical pillow and tightly held it as he closed his eyes. After a few minutes, the plane settled at an even altitude and everything was calm. Roger noticed the pillow.

“Are you seriously holding a pillow right now?” he laughed. Roger took the pillow from Jack and he tried to grab it back.

“N-no my mom made me take it because, because she wanted me to think of her when I’m gone,” Jack clapped back.

“Awww you want your mommy with you on your scary plane ride?” Roger taunted as he burst out laughing. Jack’s face turned red with embarrassment, and he quickly hid his face. He aggressively grabbed his pillow from Roger’s hands and placed it under his legs. Roger was still laughing until his stomach started to hurt.

“Not funny,” Jack mumbled under his breath. Roger stopped laughing and stared out the window.

“You know what would be cool? If we jumped out of this plane. I want to experience flying,” Roger seriously stated.

Jack looked at him with disbelief. “You know if you jump, you’re falling to your death. You’re not flying,” Jack said annoyingly. Roger just rolled his eyes. Jack felt the floor of the plane rumbling. He didn’t think anything of it because it stopped rumbling shortly after. But then the plane started violently shaking. A woman’s coffee mug flew to the back of the plane, the coffee burning the passengers the mug passed over. Screams filled the plane as food and drinks were thrown to the back of the plane. Cupboards were opening up resulting in suitcases being thrown everywhere. Jack looked around him and saw a suitcase come towards him. He ducked and put his arms over his head for protection but the speed and impact of the suitcase knocked Jack out.

★ ★ ★ ★

Green palm trees filled the sky as Jack slowly opened his eyes. He slowly sat up as his body ached, and he had a massive headache. He touched his head and his hat was still on. He took it off and felt around and on his head for blood or a bump but didn’t find anything. He saw Roger laying across from him. He wasn’t moving so Jack got up and shook him, worried he died. Roger gasped and sat up coughing.

“Where are we? What happened?” questioned Roger.

“I don’t know. I just woke up and I don’t see the rest of our group,” Jack stated. They both got up and looked around. They didn’t see anyone but as they walked, they eventually spotted a few more boys from the group and shook them awake. The group were scattered near each other, they searched until the whole group was gathered. They huddled together.

“Now boys, none of us know what happened but we need to find out where we are,” Jack said. They all agreed and walked in a big group. A low mysterious horn-like sound erupted from somewhere on the island, and the boys were startled at first, but headed towards it.