This story is fiction. This story will also involve sexual and intimate relationships between two (or more) males, and if this offends you or it is illegal for you to be reading, then please leave. If you are under the age of consent for your community, please leave. And if it does offend you, I honestly don't know why you're even here in the first place. Ready? Alright.
Hallow
(Or, How to Fly in a World Made of Feathers)
Exposition: The Corona Project
Color me with light.
Fill me in with rainbows, let them fill up over the top, spill over my palms, slowly ebb and flow with the march of space and the melody sung by starlight, sunlight, moonlight...
Eat me, swallow me, chew me between earth teeth and atmosphere, let me fall in raindrops and be woven into the ocean. Color me with light. Fill me with prism storms, crystal lamps of the night, deep eyes, kind master of the sky, our mother...
Did you see me? Forever, everywhere, time and space in absolutes. Wake up, children. Wake up.
For now, we are alive.
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Leslie was dreaming that night. She thought it was frustrating that she fell asleep so early. She missed the aurora because of it.
And this was a big thing, too: an aurora, all around the world, simultaneously. What could cause such a thing? Leslie didn't care. She was just mad. But Leslie hadn't really missed anything. She dreamed of an aurora that night anyway.
The sunlight made Leslie's ebony skin shine luminously. She pulled her sunglasses on, and reached into her purse for some lotion, rubbing it on her arms. She rolled down the car window, but frowned when wind failed to steam in.
"Les? Are you okay?"
Leslie didn't break her gaze from the outside. The sights flew by like a picture show in fast motion. Patrick looked at his daughter in the rear view mirror. "Les?"
"I don't wanna go to your work, dad."
"I didn't want to take you."
"Well you didn't have to!" Leslie closed the window and crossed her arms. "Besides, I can drive myself. I got my license now, and-"
"Oh-ho, please." Patrick's loud voice boomed over Leslie's. "Look, Les. They wouldn't let you in if I didn't drive you."
Leslie looked over the frames of her sunglasses, meeting her father's gaze in the mirror. "Did I mention how creepy this is, by the way? This is some Area 51 shit here."
"Watch your mouth!" Patrick snapped. "Hm... Aren't you excited about this? It's the least you could do. I- haha, I mean, I would be."
Leslie sharply shook her head, marking each shake with a staccato word. "I. Am. A. Freak."
"...You know I love you, right, Leslie? No matter what."
Leslie raised an eyebrow. "Dad, you're acting like you're gonna euthanize me."
Patrick shook his head. "It's not that. It's just, I'm worried about you. This is a big job, after all. I'm proud of you."
"Hm." Leslie felt the car stop. They had reached the checkpoint, several government guards coming out to speak to Patrick. Leslie had seen the rather intimidating white buildings from far away before, but always was separated by the electric fence.
"Are you ready?"
Leslie shrugged. "I guess."
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Two hours later, Leslie wasn't so ready anymore. That is, she wasn't ready for the waiting. All the waiting. Sitting in empty white halls, watching men and women in suits walk by, sitting across from offices that her father was in, sitting in the bathroom, sitting, in waiting rooms, sitting, sitting, sitting, she would fucking blow a gasket if she had to sit for another minute, with all these tightass-
"Are you here for the Corona Project?"
Leslie looked up. Behind a tall white desk was a young-ish woman in a pink dress, her legs crossed and her spindly fingers on her computer's keyboard. She wore snappy black heels and a long satin pink ribbon in her straight shoulder-length brown hair that bobbed when she shook her head. She had a friendly face, one that Leslie had trouble staying angry at. Her skinny figure and bright color scheme contrasted with the blank white walls and furniture to a strange effect.
"Yes." Leslie replied simply.
"Oooh." The pink lady said, nodding. She gave a perfect smile as she continued typing vague clerical work with machine-like precision. "You're the sixth one, I think. Are you excited?"
"Not really."
"Oooh." She said yet again, in that special way only secretaries pretending to keep polite interest could. "There sure are a lot of young people..."
Leslie's attention was piqued. "'Young people?' I thought this was a state government operation or something."
The pink lady paused in her typing, suddenly looking like a deer in the headlights. The way her wrists were flopped and hands daintily on the keyboards reminded Leslie of a begging dog. "It is, sweetie." she said. "But we don't have much of a budget, considering that we're an `alternative' project. All of our participants are volunteers who will be paid accordingly depending on their performances."
"I didn't want to go."
"Ooooh. So you must be the daughter of a state employee."
Leslie pouted. "Yeah."
"Oooh!" Apparently the pink lady found this last bit quite amazing. "Well good luck to you, Ms. Hayes." As though sensing Leslie's next question, the pink lady clarified. "Oh, it appears your father logged you into the computer system already. I think you'll be meeting the others very soon."
"Ms. Hayes?"
Leslie looked up. A tall man in a drastically black suit seemed to materialize out of thin air next to the pink lady's desk. He had slicked back gray hair and a weathered face. He wielded a clipboard. Leslie looked around. "Where's my dad?"
"He's not allowed to see this part of the project. We sent him back to his office in the beta sector..." Leslie remembered visiting her dad's work before, a very boring dull place where joylessly he participated in a grand government beauracracy. The place she was in now was quite the opposite of familiar, however. The man introduced himself. "I'm Mr. Dixon."
Leslie stood up to shake his hand. "Great. What do we do now?"
Mr. Dixon said nothing, opting to turn around down the hallway instead. He seemed to assume that Leslie was following him, as he didn't turn around to check for quite a while. Leslie saw the pink lady in the corner of her eye give her a coquettish wave. She quickly traced Mr. Dixon's tracks, pressing her lips together with frustration.
After a long catacomb of boring white walls that got whiter by the minute, Mr. Dixon reached a certain innocuous door in the wall, heavy with an opaque panel of glass at the eye level. Fumbling into his suit, Mr. Dixon pulled out an ID card, and scanned it under a mechanism by the door. With a beep and a heavy clanking noise, the door opened automatically. Mr. Dixon entered with Leslie in tow.
Leslie heard the door slam behind her. She crossed her arms. She pulled her sunglasses off her face. After surveying the room, she turned to Mr. Dixon. "You gotta be kidding me."
Mr. Dixon motioned a chair. "Have a seat."
All the chairs were white too. Leslie took her seat. She couldn't imagine a room being so white; a white floor, a white ceiling, white walls, white lights, all making the outside hallway seem like nighttime in comparison. The wall posterior to Mr. Dixon had a very large mirror. But Leslie was surprised at the others sitting in the chairs next to her. There were five; and not one of them looked over 25.
Mr. Dixon walked in front of the chairs as if he were teaching a class. "Now. All of you are here in response to the flyers we sent out. Correct? That is, you're all here to participate in the Corona Project." A response of lazy affirmative noises. "That means that ever since the Pandemic Lights, you all have been Blessed."
"Why do they call us that?" The group turned to a young woman, about Leslie's age. She had long black hair and dark brown skin, with round hazel eyes and a flattish nose. "I mean, that we're blessed. It's so dramatic." she continued.
Mr. Dixon flipped through his clipboard pages. "Ms... Ms. Mayari? Don't blame us, blame the news. It's a colloquial, and it happened to stick. Besides. In a sense, you are blessed; gifted, bestowed, with these powers, you-"
"I'd just like to have some answers, please." The fit young man with wavy blonde hair interjected. He crossed his legs and arms, obviously a bit frustrated but in a complacent sort of manner.
Again, Mr. Dixon looked for the appropriate page on his clipboard. "Mr. Skye. I'm sorry to inform you that we know little about what's going on ourselves. In fact, that is the object of this entire endeavor. Information."
"I actually thought we were becoming government lackeys." Leslie said.
"Uh, Ms. Hayes. No, no, I wouldn't put it that way." Mr. Dixon began to say, a little mousily. "You're all here because of your gifts, and the government just wants to let you know that we can work together, in harmony."
"Hey, when are we getting paid?" A handsome, athletic young man, with light brown skin, sharp facial features, and short black hair gelled forward asked a little earnestly. "You know. Just wondering."
"Mr. Mendez, please! For the last time, payment correlates to your evaluation."
Mr. Mendez sank lower in his seat. One of the other five chuckled: a muscular looking man with slanted eyes and sunglasses perched in his spiky hair with the tips dyed red. His face quickly dissolved into a taciturn one again.
"Frankly, I'm only here cos my dad was forced to bring me. So could we just get this over with? Please?" Leslie asserted. She pushed her thumbs to her temples. The Mr. Skye looked at her rather uncomfortably. "Sh-fuck... I need an aspirin."
Mr. Dixon raised an eyebrow. He cleared his throat. "Well. As you already know, ever since the Pandemic Lights, crime has gone up threefold in New Cinder. Similar trends are mirrored in metropolises all around the country. Lacking funds for stronger police forces, state congress has approved a more... alternative solution."
"You mean hiring teams of superfreaks?"
"To be completely honest Mr. Skye, that's exactly right. But you are the fortunate few to be the very first of such a team in the entire nation. That is what the Corona Project is."
Ms. Mayari shifted in her chair. "Sounds like we're test dummies."
"No. Of course not."
"Look, I don't wanna be rude, but I need-"
"No, Mr. Mendez! I can only tolerate so much!"
Mr. Mendez shut his mouth again. Mr. Skye again spoke up. "So... what are we doing again?" he asked.
"Well, that's simple. We..." Mr. Dixon ruffled through his clipboard. He flipped the pages back and forth over and over again, and a look of concern seemed to creep onto his face. He seemed very nervous, and he flipped the papers again as if it would help. "...uh... well, there's... been a bit of a mix-up. I will be right back." Mr. Dixon quickly strode out the door, and with a heavy noise it locked shut behind him.
Ms. Mayari sighed and rubbed her face. "I thought he'd never leave." she said.
"Do you know when this is over, by the way?" Mr. Mendez asked her. "My night job starts in like, an hour."
Mr. Skye rather rudely interjected himself in the conversation, mostly directed at Ms. Mayari. "My name is Nate, by the way."
Mr. Mendez paused, very confused. "Err. Okay, then." He said.
"I'm Nisha." Nisha Mayari very politely shook Nate's hand, then reached for Mr. Mendez.
"Alrighty. Santi Mendez." Santi took Nisha's hand, then awkwardly moved onto Nate. The whole thing seemed like a gawky diplomatic matter.
Nate looked behind him, at the two people seated in the back row. The strong man seemed caught in his own matters, his arms crossed, eyes closed. He had a clean face, but didn't seem particularly content. Seated next to him was a very small girl. She was a teen, with moonlight-pale skin and dark, stringy hair that fell to her waist. She wore a very colorful shirt skirt and bracelet ensemble, but had an exceedingly lost look on her face, complete with a loony smile. The quiet two looked strange together.
"You haven't said a word." Nate said, observingly.
The strong man opened his eyes to glare at Nate. The pale girl said nothing, and responded in no way at all. Nate decided not to put his hand out to shake.
Nisha rolled her eyes at Nate. She gave a very pretty smile as she spoke from behind him. "We're gonna be working together for a while. Now's the time to rack up cookie points." she told him.
Although not necessarily in response to her comment, the strong man let down his guard a little bit. "I'm Dan." he said, gruffly.
Nate, unphazed, turned to the girl. "And you?"
Again, no response. Dan finally decided to nudge her with the edge of his elbow. She jumped up in response, and made eye contact. "What is it?" She spoke like a bad actor.
"What's your name? I'm Nate, this is Nisha, and Santi, and Dan."
Nisha and Santi waved at mention of their names. Dan did not. The girl almost drifted off again, but Dan nudged her into the real world. She tried to mouth her lips around a word, but had trouble expressing it. "Teresa... A-a, a-a-a... Lisieux."
"Wow. Lisieux. That's a nice name." Nate said, very patronizingly and very loudly.
Leslie finally couldn't take it anymore. "Would you shut up?" she yelled.
Nisha stifled a chuckle. Santi was more outright, laughing out loud. Nate turned around in his chair, and looked at Leslie. "What's your problem?"
"You're my problem, actually." Leslie said matter-of-factly. "Please, just chill. God." she went back to pressing her temples.
It didn't strike Nate and Leslie as they began to cuss each other out that there were people watching behind the two-way mirror. Mr. Dixon cleared his throat, turning down the audio that was streaming into the room. He turned to his left, a tall stern man with thick glasses. "Your opinion?"
"Too young."
Mr. Dixon furrowed his eyebrows, as Nisha Mayari held back Leslie Hayes from punching Aaron Skye in the face. "No offense, but if you wish to recruit members with a paper flier posted around the city, these are the results you should expect. Teenagers, basically. The youngest one is... 17. The oldest is 24." Mr. Dixon flipped through his papers. "If I may ask, why did you put so little effort into recruiting?"
Mr. Li cleared his throat. "...Funding for this program's a bit short. You know that. We might as well have raised a bake sale, we would've gotten more money." Mr. Dixon nodded with agreement. "Anyway. How much dirt do you have on them?"
Mr. Dixon went down the list, looking at the according pages. "The oldest one is Daniel Aoki. He's the one in the back there. Suspected of three murders; those of his parents, and a young man named Dirk Hope."
"Suspected?"
"No conclusive evidence, but it's pretty obvious." Mr. Dixon continued. "Teresa Lisieux is the youngest. Nothing on her."
Mr. Li seemed skeptical. "There's gotta be something."
Mr. Dixon shook his head. "I'll get somebody on it... But I couldn't find anything. Let's see... I think you know Leslie Hayes." he said.
"Patrick's kid."
"Yes. She suffers from moderate bipolar disorder, but was hospitalized for self-mutilation several years ago. Then there's Nisha Mayari. She's the one holding Ms. Hayes. Seems to be fairly standard in terms of living conditions. Raised by single mother, no record of father. Santiago Mendez and his sister live in a household with their grandmother; he dropped out of high school, now works several jobs. And lastly Aaron Skye, raised in dual-income household, one brother." Mr. Dixon finished up. "What exactly do you have planned for them?"
Mr. Li put a hand to his mouth in thought, very gently biting his bent index finger. "...Nothing anymore. We can't do this. Really though, we can't."
"Look. They're kids, but they're still Blessed. They have as much-"
"No, I'm serious. This literally. Cannot. Happen. They are just too young, and our funding's too little. See, I was hoping that if our recruitment drive brought in more capable talent, we could call more attention to what we want to do."
"You mean the Corona Project? Fighting fire with fire? It all sounds like a comic book affair to me."
"Yeah, yeah that's what they all say... the point is that these kids aren't what we're looking for." Mr. Li said shaking his head in a very disappointed manner. "Tell them they can go, and we apologize for wasting their time. "
"Are you sure?"
"Yes! Now go!"
Before Mr. Dixon went out the door, he turned around to face Mr. Li. "You might regret this."
"..."
The door to the white room suddenly opened. Dan and Teresa didn't turn their heads to look, but Santi and Nisha, who had been holding back Nate and Leslie respectively, suddenly let go in surprise. Nate thrust forward and Leslie lunged, and with a very fleshy noise like a mallet on meat, Leslie landed a punch straight in Nate's cheek, and Nate shoved his palm into Leslie's face simultaneously.
Mr. Dixon shook his head in disapproval, not bothering to step past the threshold of the door. Leslie and Nate sat on the floor rubbing their wounds, while the rest of the group stayed silent in mortification.
"We thank you for your patience. But we must politely ask you to leave. Sorry for the inconvenience."
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Leslie was the first one to walk out, with Santi striding behind her. Nate and Nisha were in the middle, while Dan and Teresa trailed.
Santi looked behind him at the white building they left, and then in front as two guards opened the barbed wire fence. "I have doubts that this is a legitimate government operation..." he said rather offhand. He looked to his left at Leslie. "Are you gonna go home?"
Leslie shook her head. She admittedly felt a little better after being shoved in the face, a striking black ring around her left eyesocket. She finally smiled, and Santi felt a little more comfortable. "No." she said. "My dad's not off of work until 7:00 tonight. I bet he thought we'd be getting out at the same time."
"Yoo-hoo! Yoo-hoo, wait!"
Leslie thought the spritzy voice sounded familiar. She and Santi turned around, as did everybody else. It was the pink lady, doing her best to run in six-inch heels. They waited for about ten seconds as she caught up, and when she did she stopped and heaved momentarily. Her smile didn't break off of her face for one second, and Santi seemed a little disturbed by this. "Glad I caught up to you folks! Now. We may not have any government funding to form a team of our own. But Mr. Dixon and Mr. Li have decided to start the Corona Project themselves! With their own money! Isn't that super?!"
Nate pushed past a rather catatonic Teresa. "So what, we'd be privately owned or something?"
The pink lady blinked, as though in confusion. "I'm sorry. You must have misunderstood. This would be a volunteer effort. Not paid."
Santi made a very disappointed noise, and Dan rolled his eyes. Leslie bit her lip. "Well... I basically have no choice in the matter, so I'd keep on going." Leslie said from behind. The rest of the group turned to give her a very strange look. "Would anyone else be doing it?"
"Me." Teresa piped, dreamily. She didn't seem aware of what she had said, as she became very uncomfortable when stares were directed on her.
Nisha nodded. "Sure. I'll give it a shot."
Upon seeing Nisha's feedback, Nate suddenly became active. "I'm in too."
Now the spotlight was on Dan and Santi. The pink lady set a rather unsettling gaze on Dan, causing him to shift in his place. "...Fine. I'll do it." he said, rather reluctantly.
The pink lady smiled, and lastly, she looked to Santi. Santi was rubbing the back of his head uneasily. "...We really wouldn't be paid? At all?" the pink lady shook her head. "...It's not like I don't want to. I just... I mean, okay. But I could only be there for an hour, maybe."
The pink lady's eyebrows jumped. "Perfect!" she suddenly procured a stack of business cards, which she began to hand out. "We'll meet at the New Cinder High School's rec center tomorrow at three. If you have any questions, contact Mr. Li or me. I'm Ms. Deirdre, Toodles!" And with that, she was off into the white building she had just left not so long ago.
"Hey, but what if-" but Ms. Deirdre was already out of earshot. Leslie just talked normally. "-we don't have anywhere to go right now..."
Dan turned around and strode to the gates. "Then suck it up." he mumbled as he passed her.
Nate trailed Dan, and Nisha briefly turned around before following. "See you guys tomorrow, I guess." she waved to Santi and Leslie before going out with Dan and Nate. Teresa, who stayed strangely silent, also began to meander away without any particular destination besides "out."
Santi gave a very reluctant look to Leslie. "I... gotta go to the video store. My shift's gonna start in like five minutes. Are you gonna be okay by yourself?"
Leslie nodded. "I'll just wait at my dad's office. If I can find it from here."
"Alright. See you tomorrow."
"Bye."
Finally, Leslie was all alone. She sighed, turning around to the bleak buildings behind her. She could wait for dad... or she could just go home right then.
Letting her muscles relax and closing her eyes, Leslie faced the sky. Her breaths grew bigger, more engulfing, and it made her become breath. She gasped as the feeling reached a climax; every atom of her body rearranged, danced, and swirled amongst itself. She thought of it in her head; 8 protons. 8 protons. And she made herself out of it.
As Leslie Hayes' body transformed into oxygen, it wisped into the sky unseen by the people below. Leslie was going home early.
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Hello!
or rather, Hallo!
...that was uncalled for.
Anyway, it looks like I finally got around to uploading this story. It's been one of the first story ideas I've ever had, but the very last one to actually go on paper, so... it might take a while to churn out :P. But I'm still very excited about it! This first chapter was quite boring, I know. But it's exposition, right? It's supposed to be boring! :D So please don't lose faith... it'll get a little more interesting.
thank you for reading this far!
Questions? Comments? Recommendations? Fan Mail? Hate Mail, maybe? Wanna just chat? email me at ThePleiadesCall@gmail.com . Love to hear from you!
If you like Hallow, maybe there's the very vague possibility you'll like other stories I've submitted:
Charmed Reborn (Celebrity), Final Fantasy Rosa (Celebrity), Pokemon: Amethyst (Celebrity), Teth (Fantasy), and Diana Celes (High School).