By Julia Skinner
The crier held out the letter Clip had waited two years for. An orange bow wrapped around the envelope’s crinkled and weathered form.
The mass of townspeople bustled around her. No one stopped to ask about the soldier who had just been announced dead. No one spared a glance.
“Do you ever pay attention?” she whispered, sliding the envelope from the crier’s fingers, growing pinpricks of heat tingling just behind her eyelids. The crier paused. He looked about the same age as Brekker, with a face too young for such a stiff bearing.
“To?” He leaned on one leg, keeping his other at a strange angle.
“The people.” She glanced past him, to the horizon. “The soldiers you cry the names of.”
His face hardened. “No, I don’t.”
Tightening her fist around the letter, she looked up, meeting his eyes. They were dark, matching his polished hair and suit.
“You will,” Clip said, her voice rasping. She spun away and tucked the letter—Brekker’s letter—into her coat pocket.
The town square stank of rotting hope. It lingered even now, four years into the war. It stretched and thinned and plastered every inch of the almost empty city. Everyone kept saying, “Just wait, it’ll be over soon.”
“They’ll come back before you know it.”
And when one doesn’t come back? They look away, and they hope. Hope, hope, hope. She kicked the wheel of an abandoned wagon.
Clip was done waiting. She and the others of her kind should have broken their promise not to use their gift years ago.
She turned down the alley behind the cafe where she worked. Mrs. Taraan swept the back step, humming under her breath.
“Heyo darlin’.” The woman raked a grey wisp of hair out of her face. “Have a good walk?”
Clip clenched her teeth, fighting back the swelling ocean crashing against her chest. The heat behind her eyes burned. “He’s gone.”
Mrs Taraan frowned. “Who?”
“Brekker.”
She blinked. “Brekker was…”
“The boy who came every morning at dawn? He ordered cream with just a hint of coffee. How do you not remember?”
A blush bloomed across Taraan’s lined face. “Well, darlin’, I don’t know… So many soldiers come through here.”
Clip brushed past the woman. “Go inside Taraan. It’s going to rain soon.”
“But there isn’t a cloud—”
Clip allowed the tiniest spark of the heat behind her eyes slip through her control, cutting off the woman’s words. For a brief moment, Taraan’s mind was hers. Small glimmers of orange dotted Clip’s vision.
It’s going to rain, Clip pressed the thought into Taraan’s mind, mentally shoving her towards the door.
“My!” Mrs. Taraan exclaimed. “It’s going to rain soon! I’ll be inside, darlin’.” She bustled away.
With a small gasping breath, Clip sucked her powers back inside. Not yet. She stumbled toward the looming clock tower in the center of the city.
Clip fingered the letter in her pocket. Every time Brekker came to the cafe he almost never said a word.
Until the army called for volunteers.
He’d been so pale as he slid into his usual booth that day. No family. No friends. He was heading off to war later that afternoon, and he was terrified.
That was the first day he ever really spoke to her.
He needed someone to remember him, and she needed someone to prove that all of this was worth it.
“Too bad a Mindbender isn’t around to mind-control them all into not fighting,” she’d commented as she waited for the train with him. “Like the stories.”
Brekker smiled a little at that. He probably thought she was joking. “I think they just need hope.”
“Yeah? Well a Mindbender could take care of that too, eh?”
“Even if people could still do that,” he said, “it wouldn’t be real. Hope requires the ability to choose. And every soldier is a little bit of that hope, I think.”
So she let him go.
She read his letters.
And hoped and hoped and hoped that he’d return. Even though deep down, she knew he wouldn’t. War didn’t work like that.
I should have done something.
But she hadn’t, because Brekker wanted them to hope. Because he wanted to fight for what was right. Because he kept thinking everyone would eventually choose to care all on their own.
“But Brekk,” she muttered, pausing in front of the clock tower, “not all people are like you.” That thought tightened like a chain around her neck.
The neglected clock tower seemed to sag like an old man. Clip shoved the chipped door open and stepped into the cool dark. By the time she reached the top of the stairs, she was gasping for breath. More orange sparks swam at the edges of her vision as she stumbled to the front of the clock and squinted down at the city. Dismal houses coughed out trails of smoke; here and there people trailed the streets—buying, talking, living.
But no one was crying.
No one’s heart was breaking for the light that was missing from them.
No one… No one cared.
“It’s okay,” they’d just say. “It’ll get better.”
Clip jerked the letter out of her pocket and tore off the orange bow, which she’d given to Brekker before he left. Thank you, the top line read, for giving me hope.
“It wasn’t enough!” She glared at the wrinkled paper. The orange sparks melded into trickling streams. In the end, he still died, and the war continued on.
But not anymore.
These people no longer deserve the right to choose.
Clip stared at the city and breathed out, slowly, purposely. And then, she let go. The ocean pounding inside her burst free, igniting in an eruption of flames across her vision. Every person—every mind in the city—opened, like doors. She poured herself in, grasping their wills beneath her trembling fists.
It was time for the Mindbenders to return.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
My jaw dropped when I read your bio and saw that you were 18. You definitely have a bright future as a writer! Loved the story, great imagery and you really feel for Brekker and Clip which in 1000 words is difficult to pull off!
Oh my goodness! Thank you SO MUCH! This means a lot to hear!
WOW!
This one was all emotions for me; I felt everything with her. Poor Clip. Good job!
Thank you! <3 (I agree, poor Clip :'( ).
powerful! well done.
Thank you!
Why do I get the feeling that some other mindbenders are already at work? The lack of grief, the business as usual, etc. I just hope and pray that Clip is stronger!
Wonderful story.
Yeah! There’s a lot going on under the surface. I think Clip just got involved in a bigger conflict than she expected.
*sniffles* Beautiful, Julia! <3
Sobering story and very insightful. It all comes down to free will, doesn’t it?
Ooooh fascinating! Where will this choice take her?? Great world building!
:'( Poor Brekker.