Some of you may know that I am in the (very long) process of writing a novel. It's not my first stint at fiction - back in grade six, I had my entire class hooked on my thriller Terror on the Ice. I can't remember what happened but I'm fairly sure there was death by figure skate.
This book is not quite so RL Stein. It's more of a fantasy-faction-inquiry-into-how-the-world-really-works, based, of course, in Southeast Asia. I started writing it about six months ago at 3am in Padangbai, Bali, Indonesia, when I couldn't sleep.
I've got a few chapters done and I've decided to start publishing it bi-weekly (perhaps more often if I am able to) on my blog. This will also force me to continue writing it, which I haven't done for a while.
Here is chapter 1! Enjoy:)
-your friendly neighbourhood Blonde Traveler
The Funny Thing That Happened to Sophie
Chapter 1
Present
It wasn’t the thunderous snoring of the three tiny men sleeping at her feet that caused Sophie’s eyes to burst open out of a dead sleep. Nor was it the brightness of the stars dusted across the night sky. Nor was it the tickle of the ants crawling around the nooks in her feet. Nor was it the crashing of the waves against the volcanic sand beach 10 meters away. No, Sophie had a nightmare that she was back home working her old boring job and living her old boring life.
She wobbled about in her hammock, and placed a long leg on the sand below to stabilize herself. She was almost used to not sleeping in a bed, but once in a while, she would turn the wrong way and tumble out of her thick-stringed net onto the soft sand below.
But she would just smile, push herself off the ground, and climb back into her faithful, if slightly scratchy, hammock, which had been her bed for the past three months.
She hadn’t planned for all this to happen. She’d always dreamt of coming to Indonesia. But she never thought it would actually materialize. She certainly never thought she’d wind up in this kind of situation.
***
Four months ago
Sophie had never been the adventurous type. She’d always been the quiet one, the last one to raise her hand in class, the odd man out in basketball games, the one to pick ‘truth’ when everyone else picked ‘dare’.
In university, she chose not to have any roommates, and stayed up at night studying astrological patterns.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like parties or sports or dares. It was just that something was missing from her…something that would give her that extra push to actually do those things she’d love to do. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it might have been called mojo.
When she wasn’t gazing at the stars (on paper or in the sky), she was reading about girls who were all the things she wasn’t. She hungrily read books about confident, happy, crazy women who had the guts to pursue their dreams.
Of course, she had a job as well. It wasn’t anything too exciting. No, Sophie worked in the school psych department. It was her job to conduct interviews with participants of psychological case studies (ie. University students who needed the $10 for drinking money). The questions usually revolved around the person’s goals, aspirations and fears. One would think this would be a terribly intriguing exercise – learning other people’s secret desires and hidden horrors, but actually most people gave pretty routine answers.
I hope to find a good wife, and a good job.
I want to make lots of money doing nothing.
I’m afraid my parents will cut me off.
I’m scared I won’t graduate because I spend too much time partying.
I hope I beat level five on Halo II tonight.
Not exactly heart-wrenching stuff.
That’s why when Peter walked into the small, white room in which the interviews were conducted, and sat on the metal fold out chair, Sophie didn’t give him much thought at all.
His black jeans clung to his skinny legs, and his plaid shirt tucked in to them in a loose way that made him look both laid-back and clean-cut. He adjusted his aviator sunglasses, perched on top of his softly-gelled (or was it wax? clay?) brown hair, and looked around.
“Not much to it, is there?”
Sophie followed his gaze around the room. “No, I guess not. The room’s not really used for any other purposes.”
He gave her that side-smile that only very self-assured people can give, and rested an arm over the back of his chair.
“So, let’s have it, uhh, sorry, didn’t catch your name?”
“Sophie,” she replied, glancing down at her clipboard.
“So Sophie, shoot away.”
Sophie blurted out the necessary formalities just as she had hundreds of times before. “…your answers will not be published without your permission...” “…you hereby agree to grant access to your stated answers to the psychologists involved in the study…”…blah, blah, blah.
She quickly moved on to the questions. Peter was her last interview, and she wanted to get out of here before dark, since Discovery Channel was doing a feature on the history of constellation Cassiopeia at 7pm.
“Woah, woah, woah,” Peter said, leaning forward in his chair. “Slow down there Sophie. You’re going too fast. What’s that last question again?”
Sophie sighed. These second years’ brains can be so sluggish.
“Please state a persistent fear that you think about at least once a week, if not more, and that occasionally disturbs your sleeping patterns.”
Peter sat back in his chair. His expression changed, and he was silent. He cracked the knuckles on his right hand, one by one, with his thumb. The hollow clicking sound bounced off the walls.
Sophie pressed a sigh back down her throat. She noticed Peter’s eyes. They were so intensely brown, with a vague hint of a cobalt blue tint. He leaned forward again and widened his gaze. Sophie felt her lungs uncontrollably fill with air.
“Have you ever felt like there was more to life than this?” He asked her, continuing to press his gaze into hers.
Sophie wasn’t used to being asked questions. Luckily, Peter didn’t give her a chance to respond.
“Have you ever felt like there was more than going to school, getting job, getting married, having kids, retiring…have you ever felt like we’re all on a giant treadmill?”
Every day of my life!!! Sophie wanted to scream, but she kept silent.
Peter closed his eyes for a second. Then they shot back open and shocked Sophie’s system as he continued, “My fear is of being stuck on that treadmill. My fear is that I’ll graduate from this school with a relatively decent, but not stellar, education, get a half-decent job that pays enough so that after working my ass off for five years I can afford a down-payment on a two-storey house in the suburbs, find a wife who vaguely reminds me of my dream girl, but doesn’t really come close, and live my ‘happily ever after’ with her and our two kids, and then maybe we’ll save enough money to move to a retirement community in Florida.” Peter closed his eyes and relaxed his shoulders. He swallowed hard and Sophie noticed his prominent adam’s apple jut from his neck. “That’s what keeps me up at night, Sophie. The treadmill is my greatest fear.”
Sophie held his gaze. Peter’s words had really hit home. Sophie leaned the clipboard against the leg of her chair, then she uncrossed and recrossed her legs. She noticed that one of her shoelaces was undone.
“So what are you going to do about it?” She asked. Her question surprised even herself. It was unlike her to ask anyone anything that wasn’t pre-scripted.
But Peter just smiled, like he’d been expecting that question.
“Well, I know this guy in Bali who runs a surf camp. He told me about this underground society on a nearby island, where metaphysics and astrology are the abided laws of the land, no one has a proper job, but everyone has duties, people wake up when they feel like it, study what they like, do their tasks when needed, and eat food fresh from the land. They have very little contact with the outside world – they exist on their own time.”
Peter’s brown eyes were burning their way through her skull, sending pulsations into the pit of her stomach, like he could feel her adrenaline piling upon itself as he went on about this awesome thing.
“They don’t marry, they only have children if they feel like it, they play games, and wash themselves in the fresh spring waterfalls. At night, they tell stories about the gods of the stars, as they gaze at the clear sky.”
Sophie leaned forward in her chair, and tucked her long, ashy blonde hair behind her ears.
Peter’s voice dropped to a loud whisper, “The clan is mostly unknown to the western world. People who hear about it think it’s a myth. The reason is, you can’t just decide to join this society. They have to decide to let you join, to allow you to live among them, and then they will find you. It’s an amazing aligning of the stars that must take place though, since you won’t know where to find them until they come looking for you.”
The cobalt blue in Peter’s eyes seemed to twinkle.
Instead of being cynical and critical as per usual, Sophie bore her eyes even deeper into his. “So…when are you going?”
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