Chapter 7 - Goldfish Pond
Evelyn
As I keep staring at it, the familiar pattern of my classroom door blurs. I blink it into focus before pushing back my chair to stand and walk back to the window, where my tea has gone cold.
I stretch my neck, rigid with the tension accumulated in the last two hours, allowing my eyes to rest on the placid blue sky divided into four perfect squares by my window frame.
For years, I observed students and teachers wearing out the path that rolls down from the castle, the Blind Wise, and through the gates and the broad stone staircase beyond them, before disappearing into the sandy shore.
I witnessed seasons chase one another, stripping the trees of their leaves and feeding their new blossoms. The change in our people, our dreams, our drive, the will to answer the Horigeans’ cry for help after the Great Famine.
Even though they forced us to abandon the land that we had shared in peace for so long.
“Oh my, I hate this thing,” I gasp when the phone vibrates in my pocket with no shame. “Popplewish speaking.”
“That, or I had your number wrong for years, Evelyn.”
I take a deep breath. “Amelia, how can I help?”
“You could start by making sure my efforts are not wasted.” Her voice travels like a needle between our phones.
“Everything is under control,” I reply, massaging my temple, picturing my patience as a pond with little goldfish. One fish materialises midair and falls into the water, expanding my pond and tolerance.
Amelia clears her throat on the other end, louder than necessary, “Evelyn, my dear, are you there?”
“Yes—”
“Oh, good, because I’m very busy. I’ve heard Sofia and Galen were with you just moments ago. And left both looking…flustered. Hope everything is proceeding as agreed. We surely don’t want to review the whole plan for a silly mistake.”
This woman is killing all my goldfish. “It will be better if we all focus on our tasks rather than using our time to micromanage other people’s roles. I believe this is what you’re trying to say?”
She sighs, “Sure, I would never. I'm happy to hear everything is fine.”
“Goodbye, Amelia.” I hang up. I could always blame it on weak reception.
The phone feels heavy in my hand. I should put it back in my pocket and go, but my fingers don’t belong to the adult Evelyn, who follows orders for everyone’s sake, the Evelyn who’s forgotten about her ideals.
These fingers belong to Eve, not yet the Silent End.
A young Reaper who still believes her gift is not a curse but a misunderstood blessing.
My fingers tremble when I type:
Something is not right. We’re moving tonight. You only have a few more hours, and then you’ll be on your own. Use your time wisely.
I reread the message to make sure the information is clear.
Sent.
Received. I nod to myself when the ticks appear next to my text.
Deleted, because phones are fickle little things, easy to misplace.