Chapter 1 - The Box
You are going to make change, Sable. Good change. The world needs people like you; people who are different and unique. People like yourself are a crucial segment of a large entirety. Do not fear this confronting idea. Embrace it. We have high hopes for you. And just remember: WICKED is good.
I gasp and open my eyes wide in shock, then squint as a
claustrophobic darkness greets me.
I jolt upright into a sitting position and smack my head against
something hard in the process. I rebound off whatever hit my head and collapse
back down to the ground. Rubbing my aching forehead, I slowly and cautiously
sit myself up again and use my other hand to feel around in front of me.
encounter a cool and solid material that appears to be metal. Working my way
around, I crawl on all fours and reach about blindly; trying to make sense of
where I am. After my investigation, I conclude that I am in a small metal box
with a very low roof. Not only this, but there seemed to be supplies with me as
Including live animals.
A squeal from a pig in the cage in the corner
startles me from my thoughts. I back against one of the walls to distance
myself from the pig, but then another loud noise from a goat behind me makes me
move in a different direction. When I eventually find a spot to sit down, I
wrap my arms tightly around myself and bury my head in my knees. My teeth begin
chattering but it isn’t cold. My body begins shaking but I’m not moving. My
breathing becomes rapid but there is plenty of oxygen. Calm down, you’re going to be alright – but a loud clanking noise
cuts off my thoughts and I am tossed to the ground face-first as the box I am
in begins to ascend.
I scramble around desperately to find something to grab
onto, but I find nothing. The box moves faster and faster and I glance upwards
in terror. Whatever calm I had previously established disappeared as I realize
I have no idea where I am or where I am going.
My chest rises and falls in
quick succession as my breathing increases again. I let out a whimper of fear
as I stay glued to the floor; my fingers clutching at the metal. Just when I
have convinced myself that I may just die, the box comes to a complete halt.
The sudden stop of movement causes my body to fling forward and smack into the
wall again. I detach myself from the wall and quickly spin around as a noise of
metal grinding against metal sounds from above me.
A small thread of light creates a horizontal line through the roof. As the crack of light grows, so does the sound of an alarm and a series of different voices:
“Alby better get his shuck face here.”
“I’ll bet Frypan’s dinner that he’s gonna be a slinthead.”
“Great, another Glader to make life harder.”
Using my hands, I shield my face from the harsh gleam, which slowly fades as shadows surround me. Once I believe that I can see properly, I warily remove my hand.