The Heart Of The Glade

Glade

The crowd of boys erupt with questions. Some fold their arms, others put their fists in the air and cheer or holler. The younger boys seem to simply stare wide-eyed at me. The boy in the box with me climbs out and marches up to the boy with the british accent.

"I'm gonna go get Alby," he says before running off.

Too much chaos is happening for me to handle. I cover my ears with my shaking hands, squeezing my eyes shut. I think I'm going to have another shut down.

"Alright! That's enough!" I hear a muffled accented voice say, "All of you go back to work. She's frightened."

Lowering my hands, I look up to notice everyone retreating except for the british boy. He's taller than most of the younger boys, so I assume that he's an older guy of the group. He's thin and not yet filled out. But his dark chocolate eyes and blonde messing hair are what stand out most to me, apart from his accent of course. Over all he is pleasant to the eyes.

He doesn't look at me. His head is turned to the side looking around at the plot of green land.

"Newt, is it true?" I hear a deep voice from the distance say.

I look over to the direction of the speaker and spot an older dark boy approaching the box. He doesn't seem mad but he's not happy. Almost confused or frustrated.

'Why does everyone I see look worried and confused?' I think.' And why are they all boys?'

Gazing into the box at me, the dark boy stops and asks, "Anything else unusual?"

The blonde boy shakes his head in reply.

The dark boy sighs and I stand there looking at them, waiting for a reaction.

The dark boy kneels beside the edge of the box and asks me, "Do know where you came from?"

'That's a horrible conversation starter,' I think.

Then I realize again that I don't know. This fact hits me as hard as the last time it did and I look at my feet, shaking my head.

"Do you know who you are?" he questions.

My breathes grow raspy once more and a tear runs down my cheek. I shake my head again.

He huffs.

"Do you know your name?" he says with irritation in his voice.

I look up at him. All these questions are as if he knows I don't remember. This means that he's seen or experienced this lack of memory before in a person. I'm not the only one.

He must have answers.

I wrap my arms around my chest as if I'm giving myself a hug.

"How did you know I don't remember anything?" I ask the dark boy.

"Nobody remembers," the blonde boy next to him answers. I forgot he was there.

"You will remember your name though. It just takes a few days," the dark boy adds.

He offers me his hand. I grab it and he pulls me out of the box with ease.

Standing between the two male teenagers, I turn my head in every direction, trying to make out the landscape. It's a large square of a flat land of grass, guarded by the cemented walls. In one corner, is a forested area, and in another, what seems to be a farm which was just a shack with a fenced area. Living in the fence, were various goats, pigs, and chickens. I spot a couple more shack-like structures, a garden, and a pond.

I look back at the dark boy.

"Welcome to the Glade," he says.