Chapter ONE
HEARTS OF ICE
A printer sat poised in a dark, desolate room. The
room was completely black and shrouded in darkness. A half-drunk cup of murky
black coffee sat on a dusty, wooden desk, and in one of the corners of the
dull, grey-carpeted room was a gargantuan, towering pile of sheets of paper and
books, the papers bundled together into chunks of about twenty pages. Small red
lights blinked on and off periodically in the all-consuming darkness, which was
punctuated by only a white rectangle of light, which beamed onto the face of
the sole occupant of the room. The white rectangle of light was a computer
monitor. The occupant of the room sat on a swivel chair, black as the night,
black as the room it was situated in. The light from the computer monitor
illuminated her weary face and long blonde hair. An Internet search had been
opened on the computer. The lady who occupied the room was scrolling down the
search results for 'ancient egyptian golden era'. She smiled and opened up a
page, typing in a password to open it. She scanned the page with her beady,
glinting eyes, took the information in, lapped it up eagerly. Chuckling to
herself, she turned the monitor off.
*
“What?!” spluttered Brandon Poole in disbelief, in
the kitchen of the house he lived in. “Summer school? Summer school?” It
was like he was scrutinizing the words, examining them. “Summer and school are
words that aren't even meant to be in the same sentence! Let alone right next
to each other!”
“Yes,” admitted the mother of twelve-year-old rebel
Brandon resignedly, “but it's drama. You like drama. You're good at that
kind of thing. Plus, it's quite far away and it's a boarding school experience
so we can get rid of you for this summer!”
Brooke and David Poole weren't exactly the most
loving and supportive parents – but then again, it was difficult to love and
support Brandon Poole. Well, to an extent. He was a fine boy all in all –
fairly handsome, fairly clever – although he didn't like to admit it – and with
a largely hidden aptitude and talent for Music, yet these qualities redeemed
his actions and the rest of his personality.
Brandon was pessimistic and way, way too
assertive – if he was out of his comfort zone or didn't agree with the rules, he'd
make it known. However, this strong belief he possessed, to stick to his own
rules, made him difficult to handle. He'd been known on occasion to refuse to
change for school PE lessons once or twice just because he believed the sport
of choice was completely unnecessary for him in later life. Invariably he was
always right. He had a heart of ice, put simply. He was irritable, rebellious,
temperamental and with a short fuse; it was for all these reasons that Brooke
and David Poole had almost fainted with excitement when they saw the leaflet
advertising the performing arts boarding summer school.
It had been on an email, as an attachment. The
email was from one of David Poole's clients – David was a successful
businessman – and almost as an afterthought, the client had added the leaflet
as an electronic copy for perusal, knowing that David Poole had a son of the
right age, and having had the advertising leaflet forwarded to her by somebody
else.
The succinct, colourful leaflet advertised a six
week long full-holiday boarding school in the countryside, which would serve as
a venue for the drama school. The large, spacious theatre at the 1900s school
would serve as the main rehearsal and performance area, and the children
attending the drama school – aimed at ages six to sixteen – would sleep in the
bedrooms at the school. The school itself hadn't been in use as a place of
education for ten years, and now it was leased and rented out for events,
concerts, gatherings and parties. The drama school would include classes in
drama, vocals and modern dance, with extra courses in a range of activities,
including cheer-leading, DJing, graffiti, poetry, MC skills, set and costume
design, circus skills, and more. It would all culminate in a musical
performance of The Lion King for parents and invited guests,
incorporating all the talent from the six weeks. It was the third time that the
summer school had been held and it sounded ideal: David Poole had instantly
signed his son up for the course – at £350 for Monday to Saturday sessions from
nine in the morning until four in the afternoon, it was a bargain, especially
for a wealthy family. However, Brandon wasn't so happy.
“You can make friends there!” exclaimed Brandon's
dad eagerly.
“And then lose them all again at the end of the six
weeks! I don't need friends, I don't want them. I want to
stay home, chill, do what I want!”
“You'll be allowed to! You don't rehearse non-stop
every single day for six weeks! There'll be fun and games and the chance to
cultivate the musical talent you've got in there!” protested Brandon's dad.
“What musical talent?” spat Brandon.
“The summer school has got great reviews!”
“So?” shouted Brandon.
“Well, you've already been signed up, the money's
been paid, and it's too late to turn back now!” decided Brandon's mum
logically. “Today's what... June 23rd? School ends July 19th,
the course is July 23rd to September 2nd, we'll send you
there on the 21st. Sorted!”
Brooke beamed. Brandon groaned. He had been
expecting a summer of fun and ice cream, not this – a boring old drama school
far away from home! But as Brandon would soon learn, it would go on to become
the most eventful summer of his life...
*
Mark Dorry was tidying and rummaging about in his
office. He didn't find himself tidying up too much, but he thought that it
would be a good thing to do, as Summer was ever so slowly creeping in.
He was brown-haired, aged about thirty, with a
fiery passion for Egypt and chocolate, and utterly evil. Or he would be in one
minute...
He bent down to pick up a neglected piece of paper
– his office at his home was cluttered and messy with junk and scrap paper –
and scanned it. On the yellowing, slightly curled paper, was a lengthy,
typewritten page of faded ink headed with “The Golden Era”. Intrigued, Mark
read on with interest. It seemed to detail something called 'the Golden Era'.
'The Golden Era is a time, a period, an age that
could last indefinitely. It is a time similar to that of the Ancient Egyptians.
However, total immortality and supremacy can be achieved. A ceremony must be
performed, involving ingredients and information. Through this, the Golden Era
can be summoned up. The present will be turned into the Golden Era instantly.
He who resurrects the Golden Era rules it. Everything in the Era is fine-tuned
to his or her specifications. The Era is tuned to the wishes of the resurrector.
Be wary, however, for if just one ingredient or piece of information is wrong,
the ceremony will be incorrect and the consequences must be paid. The
resurrector will require artefacts, information and emotive power. And remember
that three must resurrect. Any less or any more, and the Era will be sealed
forever.'
*
Within minutes of reading the page, Mark Dorry was
on the phone to one of his long-time associates and – dare he say it - friends,
Elsie Fox. She had long blonde hair and was quite pretty and also aged thirty.
“I am telling you, Elsie, this must be
important!” pleaded Mark down the phone, hissing at his associate. They didn't
have a history of agreeing with each other.
“We have no evidence, Mark, none whatsoever, that
this is real! It may be a practical joke, a... wind-up,” retorted Elsie.
“Elsie, you're saying that somebody would sneak
into my house to put a joke piece of paper in my office? I've never seen this
piece of paper before. I believe it is genuine!” argued Mark.
“Hmm... I'm sorry Mark, I am afraid I do not
believe that this is anything more than-”
“Immortality, Elsie, immortality! Think!”
Elsie Fox pondered this tempting offer. And she
accepted.
“Yes,” she said. “Okay then, let's do this. How?”
“Well, we stage a resurrection. Emotive power.
We're arranging this summer school anyway to pick up some money, so why not
stage the resurrection live on stage. Emotive power, it said in the letter.
Emotion. We'll have parents and kids and lots of emotive power. Perfect. We can
resurrect the Golden Era.”
“We can live forever!” cried Elsie in triumph.
*
Brandon was still very annoyed. It had been several
weeks since he'd been told about the summer school, and he hadn't been able to
contain his hatred and disappointment at the idea. He didn't want to spend his
summer doing singing, dancing and acting. He wanted to spend his summer doing
what he wanted, not what his parents wanted him to do. But it was now July 20th.
It had come around way too fast to be true. Tomorrow he would depart for The
Countryside to go to drama school, boarding school. School was over and now he
was busy packing. At least his parents were helping him. In fact, they were
doing most of the work.
The three of them were packing away lots and lots
of Brandon's clothes and his other personal belongings; Brandon was very well
aware that six weeks would end up becoming very boring if he didn't have
anything to do for his lengthy free periods and days.
He was thinking, reflecting. This wouldn't be a
normal summer. But then again, being a child who wasn't that athletic, he
didn't normally have much to do to occupy his time in the summer holidays.
Maybe this would keep him busy, entertained...
He thought about what his dad had said to him,
about making friends. He couldn't, could he? He wouldn't dare. Friends were...
unusual, unnecessary, superfluous. He could manage without them. But all the
same...
*
In
the morning of July 21st, Brandon Poole set off for the train
station. His parents didn't accompany him – they were far too busy. He got on
the train that would take him to the most eventful summer of his life...-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Author's Note: So this chapter is mostly set-up. Set-up chapters, much like TV pilots and introductory episodes and stories where you have to set everything up, are boring both to read and write (or is that just MY opinion?). The story begins soon, I promise.
I just needed to introduce the central premise: there are some adults who run a summer drama school. Brandon will be attending that drama school, but unknown to him, the adults think they can resurrect an ancient time called the Golden Era, which will make every single thing exactly what they want.
The second chapter will be coming soon... if people read this. Just remember - IT GETS BETTER. There are diseases and treasure and lightning and things.
