Young Adult Fiction
Hana ran through the broken streets of Blood Burrow. The smell of burning followed, sliding into her mouth as she gulped for air. It was as damp as toads. She would never wash herself free of it, and never stop hearing the women scream or wipe out the memory of the Limping Man.
One of the great things about Ruth is that she has a moth-flame relationship with catastrophe...Another great thing is that she's really creative, and I'm really pragmatic, so between the two of us we can usually figure something out. I started with the facts. Ruth was pregnant.
The third scroll was dropped onto her binder as she rushed between classes at mid-morning break. The halls were crowded, she’s hadn’t seen anyone of note beside her – the scroll hadn’t been there, then suddenly it was… To her left, she spotted an open maintenance closet, full of cleaning solutions and wet mops. Stepping in, she closed the door and fumbled for the light switch. Frantically she tore at the ribbon and the wax seal, not caring if the paper ripped…
As her eyes reluctantly returned to the black message scrawled across the page, the light bulb’s electric after-image danced across her retinas, confusing her vision, but the third scroll’s contents had already been seared deep into her memory.
Congratulations! You are this year's lottery winner.
Tarksalik is about forty feet ahead of me, running by the side of the road. I can tell she's got sled-dog blood in her from the way she runs: head high, legs taut.
The sun has just come up, and when it lands on Tarksalik, it looks like she's shining too. For the first time since I found out I'd be spending this term in Nunavik, in northern Quebec, getting reacquainted with my dad, I don't feel one hundred percent miserable. Right now, as I let the fresh cold air fill my lungs, I'd say I'm down to about eighty-five percent miserable.
Maybe, I think as I watch Tarksalik run, this visit won't turn out to be a total disaster. Maybe there's more to life than Montreal.
