The Recipients: Chapter 1
I'm gonna start by posting chapter one of a book I'm working on called The Recipients. I've recently had writer's block (I say recently but I mean for over half a year) on this so I'm hoping by going back to it I'll figure out what's next.
Enjoy!
-Victoria
Enjoy!
-Victoria
Chapter 1:
Kiera hurried through the corridor. She had been summoned to the out room, where the little boy, Tiesto, was screaming far too hysterically for her liking.
She turned a corner and opened the door to the out room. Instantly, his cries became completely audible. Loud and ear piercing. Kiera hid her wince and knelt beside Tiesto. She did not like Tiesto, the second youngest of seven in his family, he was somehow cruel, and always cried.
His mother, a tall and strict woman, knelt beside her child. “Come now ‘tis only a little scratch, look, Kiera has come. Look now darling.” Tiesto kept crying.
Kiera examined the wound. It was nothing too bad, skinned knee, a little bit of blood, and a bruise. “How did this happen?” She said it in a flat tone, not meaning to be rude.
“He fell off the swing.” His mother replied in an equally flat voice.
“He is more scared than in pain then.” Kiera said, almost to herself. She could take the pain, or the fear. She chose fear. She rested her hand on his head and looked around in his emotions. There was mostly fear, as she suspected, but there was a slight bit of excitement, and an evil happiness, a satisfaction for the extra attention. Kiera gripped onto the fear and took most of it, leaving some as a reminder for him not to do whatever he did, again. When she removed her hand, she felt his fear flutter through her, as if it were her own. Her shoulders trembled for a moment, but she shook it off.
“I will go now.” Kiera whispered. Tiesto has stopped crying. He was still bleeding a bit, but the nurse, who was rushing in, could fix that.
Tiesto looked straight at Kiera and his eyes sparkled with an evil grin, then his expression change to angelical innocence as he turned to his mother and whispered in his saddest most tortured voice: “It still hurts.”
“Couldn’t you take the pain as well, Kiera?” His mother called. Kiera almost let out an exasperated grunt, but kept her face straight.
“I could, ma’am.”
“And will you?” It was an order. Not a question.
“Yes.” The reply felt dry inside her mouth. She hated taking people's pain, it hurt afterward, and how will the boy learn if she takes away his pain and fear?
“Well, come on then.”
Kiera came back and sat down by the boy. The nurse, Gretta, paused, and unwrapped the bandage from the squirming boy. Kiera placed her hand on his back this time, and began to sort through his pain. It was not hard at all to find it. Taking it all away was harder. She reached out with her shimmery light and latched onto the pain. It stung, but not as much as she had braced for. She gripped the end of it and yanked it out of the boy. All of it. It did not hurt very much to her, but to the boy it would have hurt more. She felt the sting of a wound on her own leg, but the pain was all in her head and she refused to bend over and hold her own knee. She stood up. The recipient’s job was done and so she left.
Feeling the remnant of fear and hurt, she hurried into her room, passing by Wolf, who was in as usual, patrolling the hallway in front of Lily’s room. The dog was large, and although he was very gentle with all the family members, he was extremely protective of the infant, Lily. He followed Kiera with his large brown eyes but didn’t move or bark as she swiftly moved past him. For the first three months after Lily was born, Wolf never left the house. He was the unpaid nanny of Lily, they teased. Lily did have her own nanny though, as their mother was usually out of town, and not very close to her children.
Her job in the Ministry took her all over the country and often times she had to travel with little notice in advance.
It was strange, Kiera thought, how their mother was home now. Had something happened? Kiera walked down the corridor more slowly now, as if she was expecting Lina, the maid, to come running down the hall with news. But the house was still.
After going down a flight of steps into the servant's chambers, Kiera reached her small room. She sat in the chair by the desk and waited. The family did not like her socializing with the children, and didn’t like her around their food so she couldn’t cook, or do anything productive in the house.
The doorbell rang, interrupting her thoughts, she stood up quickly eager for some excitement. She didn’t bother closing the door behind her as she made her way down the service's hallway and just outside the main room. The large living room had a seating area in the middle of it, with soft couches and expensive carpets. It was a tall ceiling from which hung a glorious chandelier. How the maids lit up the candles, she did not quite know. The walls were covered in red patterned wallpaper, with a design so exquisite, Kiera couldn’t bear to look at it long. There were occasional paintings here and there, mostly of the family in their fanciest clothes. She wasn’t permitted to wander in the family’s living quarters-unless she was to perform her services of taking someone’s unwanted emotions.
Kiera tried to remember what day it was. Saturday. What was going on on a Saturday?
Lina quickly appeared and opened the door, welcoming three young ladies into the house. They were well dressed and each had a thick book in their arms. Kiera remembered that Mrs. Franinn, the proper name of the mother of the house, was hosting the book club at her house today. Nothing exciting to pull her away from her dull existence today. She wondered briefly about the book they were going to discuss, maybe she can see if it’s any good and sneak it out of her mistress’ room when she went away on business next time. But she stayed.
“Oh my!” One of the ladies groaned, “My back is, oh, so sore.”
“Dearest Anne, so nice to see you! Lina, call for Kiera, right away to come and help Mrs. Unotot.” Mrs. Franinn ordered. Oh great. Kiera thought with annoyance, she was used to being showed off like a silly prize at any opportunity, yet it still felt demeaning and wrong.
“Oh! You did not tell me you had a Recipient!” Mrs. Unotot exclaimed, smiling falsely. She was a pretty young lady, well dressed, but not as fancy as Mrs. Franinn of course. The mother of the household did not seem to see the falseness and kept on with her bragging.
Lina hurried out the room, almost stumbling over Kiera. The maid gave a quiet, startled laugh and gestured towards the open door in invitation. Kiera reluctantly followed her in.
“Yes, we got her about half a year ago! How could you not know?” She said proudly. “Please sit down. Kiera! Get over here!” she snapped loudly.
“My apologies ma’am.” Kiera hurried over to where they were now all seated. Waiting.
“That is quite alright. I won’t die.” Mrs. Unotot said hastily. Kiera noticed her reluctance and narrowed her eyes slightly, studying the woman’s face.
“No, no. Don’t be silly.” Mrs. Franinn insisted.
“No, but thank you! Please, I’ll be fine.” Mrs. Unotot looked startled, as she fumbled with her dress. “A Recipient killed my mother. I can never feel comfortable with them.” A long, uncomfortable silence followed. Kiera looked down at the floor unsure of what to do. She could feel the eyes of everyone in the room burrow onto her. She felt a wave of guilt even under the heavy flavor of hatred she was sensing from them. She knew it was not her fault, yet her talent, useful as it was, was an abomination.
“Alright, fine. Let’s go to the drawing-room shall we?” Mrs. Franinn tried to recover some of the cheerful mood.
Kiera remembered hearing about the Uprising of the Recipients in class. The Recipients had killed people with their powers. They have acted monstrously, exploiting their unnatural talents to destroy the government and society rules. In the school that Kiera went to, they were all Recipients except for the strict, cruel teachers. Some of the kids in the school whispered that whenever a recipient was severely punished, beaten, or when fatally injured, they could transfer all of their pain to the person inflicting that pain. Oftentimes, they would both die. This was part of the reason modern owners of Recipients were not allowed to injure their Recipients. For the owner’s safety.
That Uprising was maybe three years before she was born, and all of the Recipients on the wrong side (that were caught), were sentenced to death. The few that remained were closely monitored by the families they were interested in, they were separated from their tainted parents the moment they were enlisted for classes and isolated from any other recipients from the moment they completed their short schooling at age 12.
Lately, there’s been rumors again, about a new uprising. But Kiera couldn’t imagine how this was even possible, the Recipients were strictly forbidden to socialize with others of their kind. She thought the rumors are just that, rumors and stories to scare naughty children to sleep. She thought an uprising would be stupid, reckless and idiotic.
Yet maybe she just hated that she could never be part of one, that perhaps if this new uprising ever came, she would be forced to fight against it.
Kiera hurried through the corridor. She had been summoned to the out room, where the little boy, Tiesto, was screaming far too hysterically for her liking.
She turned a corner and opened the door to the out room. Instantly, his cries became completely audible. Loud and ear piercing. Kiera hid her wince and knelt beside Tiesto. She did not like Tiesto, the second youngest of seven in his family, he was somehow cruel, and always cried.
His mother, a tall and strict woman, knelt beside her child. “Come now ‘tis only a little scratch, look, Kiera has come. Look now darling.” Tiesto kept crying.
Kiera examined the wound. It was nothing too bad, skinned knee, a little bit of blood, and a bruise. “How did this happen?” She said it in a flat tone, not meaning to be rude.
“He fell off the swing.” His mother replied in an equally flat voice.
“He is more scared than in pain then.” Kiera said, almost to herself. She could take the pain, or the fear. She chose fear. She rested her hand on his head and looked around in his emotions. There was mostly fear, as she suspected, but there was a slight bit of excitement, and an evil happiness, a satisfaction for the extra attention. Kiera gripped onto the fear and took most of it, leaving some as a reminder for him not to do whatever he did, again. When she removed her hand, she felt his fear flutter through her, as if it were her own. Her shoulders trembled for a moment, but she shook it off.
“I will go now.” Kiera whispered. Tiesto has stopped crying. He was still bleeding a bit, but the nurse, who was rushing in, could fix that.
Tiesto looked straight at Kiera and his eyes sparkled with an evil grin, then his expression change to angelical innocence as he turned to his mother and whispered in his saddest most tortured voice: “It still hurts.”
“Couldn’t you take the pain as well, Kiera?” His mother called. Kiera almost let out an exasperated grunt, but kept her face straight.
“I could, ma’am.”
“And will you?” It was an order. Not a question.
“Yes.” The reply felt dry inside her mouth. She hated taking people's pain, it hurt afterward, and how will the boy learn if she takes away his pain and fear?
“Well, come on then.”
Kiera came back and sat down by the boy. The nurse, Gretta, paused, and unwrapped the bandage from the squirming boy. Kiera placed her hand on his back this time, and began to sort through his pain. It was not hard at all to find it. Taking it all away was harder. She reached out with her shimmery light and latched onto the pain. It stung, but not as much as she had braced for. She gripped the end of it and yanked it out of the boy. All of it. It did not hurt very much to her, but to the boy it would have hurt more. She felt the sting of a wound on her own leg, but the pain was all in her head and she refused to bend over and hold her own knee. She stood up. The recipient’s job was done and so she left.
Feeling the remnant of fear and hurt, she hurried into her room, passing by Wolf, who was in as usual, patrolling the hallway in front of Lily’s room. The dog was large, and although he was very gentle with all the family members, he was extremely protective of the infant, Lily. He followed Kiera with his large brown eyes but didn’t move or bark as she swiftly moved past him. For the first three months after Lily was born, Wolf never left the house. He was the unpaid nanny of Lily, they teased. Lily did have her own nanny though, as their mother was usually out of town, and not very close to her children.
Her job in the Ministry took her all over the country and often times she had to travel with little notice in advance.
It was strange, Kiera thought, how their mother was home now. Had something happened? Kiera walked down the corridor more slowly now, as if she was expecting Lina, the maid, to come running down the hall with news. But the house was still.
After going down a flight of steps into the servant's chambers, Kiera reached her small room. She sat in the chair by the desk and waited. The family did not like her socializing with the children, and didn’t like her around their food so she couldn’t cook, or do anything productive in the house.
The doorbell rang, interrupting her thoughts, she stood up quickly eager for some excitement. She didn’t bother closing the door behind her as she made her way down the service's hallway and just outside the main room. The large living room had a seating area in the middle of it, with soft couches and expensive carpets. It was a tall ceiling from which hung a glorious chandelier. How the maids lit up the candles, she did not quite know. The walls were covered in red patterned wallpaper, with a design so exquisite, Kiera couldn’t bear to look at it long. There were occasional paintings here and there, mostly of the family in their fanciest clothes. She wasn’t permitted to wander in the family’s living quarters-unless she was to perform her services of taking someone’s unwanted emotions.
Kiera tried to remember what day it was. Saturday. What was going on on a Saturday?
Lina quickly appeared and opened the door, welcoming three young ladies into the house. They were well dressed and each had a thick book in their arms. Kiera remembered that Mrs. Franinn, the proper name of the mother of the house, was hosting the book club at her house today. Nothing exciting to pull her away from her dull existence today. She wondered briefly about the book they were going to discuss, maybe she can see if it’s any good and sneak it out of her mistress’ room when she went away on business next time. But she stayed.
“Oh my!” One of the ladies groaned, “My back is, oh, so sore.”
“Dearest Anne, so nice to see you! Lina, call for Kiera, right away to come and help Mrs. Unotot.” Mrs. Franinn ordered. Oh great. Kiera thought with annoyance, she was used to being showed off like a silly prize at any opportunity, yet it still felt demeaning and wrong.
“Oh! You did not tell me you had a Recipient!” Mrs. Unotot exclaimed, smiling falsely. She was a pretty young lady, well dressed, but not as fancy as Mrs. Franinn of course. The mother of the household did not seem to see the falseness and kept on with her bragging.
Lina hurried out the room, almost stumbling over Kiera. The maid gave a quiet, startled laugh and gestured towards the open door in invitation. Kiera reluctantly followed her in.
“Yes, we got her about half a year ago! How could you not know?” She said proudly. “Please sit down. Kiera! Get over here!” she snapped loudly.
“My apologies ma’am.” Kiera hurried over to where they were now all seated. Waiting.
“That is quite alright. I won’t die.” Mrs. Unotot said hastily. Kiera noticed her reluctance and narrowed her eyes slightly, studying the woman’s face.
“No, no. Don’t be silly.” Mrs. Franinn insisted.
“No, but thank you! Please, I’ll be fine.” Mrs. Unotot looked startled, as she fumbled with her dress. “A Recipient killed my mother. I can never feel comfortable with them.” A long, uncomfortable silence followed. Kiera looked down at the floor unsure of what to do. She could feel the eyes of everyone in the room burrow onto her. She felt a wave of guilt even under the heavy flavor of hatred she was sensing from them. She knew it was not her fault, yet her talent, useful as it was, was an abomination.
“Alright, fine. Let’s go to the drawing-room shall we?” Mrs. Franinn tried to recover some of the cheerful mood.
Kiera remembered hearing about the Uprising of the Recipients in class. The Recipients had killed people with their powers. They have acted monstrously, exploiting their unnatural talents to destroy the government and society rules. In the school that Kiera went to, they were all Recipients except for the strict, cruel teachers. Some of the kids in the school whispered that whenever a recipient was severely punished, beaten, or when fatally injured, they could transfer all of their pain to the person inflicting that pain. Oftentimes, they would both die. This was part of the reason modern owners of Recipients were not allowed to injure their Recipients. For the owner’s safety.
That Uprising was maybe three years before she was born, and all of the Recipients on the wrong side (that were caught), were sentenced to death. The few that remained were closely monitored by the families they were interested in, they were separated from their tainted parents the moment they were enlisted for classes and isolated from any other recipients from the moment they completed their short schooling at age 12.
Lately, there’s been rumors again, about a new uprising. But Kiera couldn’t imagine how this was even possible, the Recipients were strictly forbidden to socialize with others of their kind. She thought the rumors are just that, rumors and stories to scare naughty children to sleep. She thought an uprising would be stupid, reckless and idiotic.
Yet maybe she just hated that she could never be part of one, that perhaps if this new uprising ever came, she would be forced to fight against it.
this is amazing!
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