Autumn: A Novel about Imagination

It was mid September and I was late for school. Running down the street, heavy knapsack thumping against my back, I decided to take a short cut through the over grown park that no one used, a choice that I now realize changed both who I was and what I would become. Sneakers trampling through the long grass, I’d only made it a few feet when I tripped over something solid and sprawled to the ground. That day, sitting amidst the dead grass, nursing my dirty palms and scraped knee, was the day I met Autumn.

And this is his story....

When Deklin was ten he stumbled, quite litterally, across Autumn, a small boy who challenges every idea Deklin has about the world and its rules, all with a little imagination. The only problem is, the further Deklin is drawn into the world of pretend, the more he realizes that Autumn doesnt see it as simply playing. To Autumn, fiction is reality.


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Breath of Adventure

Clickety-clack, clickety-clack, the sound managed to permeate her headphones, intermingling with her music and lulling her into a hazy half-world of dreams and reality. Curling deeper into her seat she curled her fingers around her plastic mug, warming fingers as steam fogged the window. Clickety-clack, clickety-clack.



If she wanted, she could rub a circle in the iced mist, peer out into the white and black world flying by with every turn of the wheels grating and clicking against the train tracks. The stars were bright, the type of clear that you could only see in the country in winter, without city lights to mar their shine. But instead she simply rested her face against the chilly pane and let the contrasting temperature cool cheeks previous hot from lonely tears.


Curling her feet underneath her she drew patterns in the frost, designs that disappeared with every puffed breath. There were her friends, waving from the platform, hugging her goodbye, sketched out in vapor, melting and freezing with each hot gust. Or was it her that vanished?


Every clickety-clack, clickety-clack, brought her further from her past. Every turning of iron wheels closer to her future. The dreams she envisioned, every mish mashed muddled one, they were in front, they were the destination. The departure however, held all her fears, her comforts, the things she understood.


Could a train carriage, noisy and swaying, bring the answers she wanted? Would her stop, far down the line, be the right one? The right decision, the right city? Was the faith she had in herself enough to push her through tomorrow?


Sighing once, erasing her sketches in an exhalation, she wondered. Life was a journey, long, arduous. It had safe moments, bundled up and sipping tea in an empty train car. And it had dangerous moments, stepping out into a new world, where the streets were strange and the people strangers.


She was young. But she was brave. Ignoring her tears she let her eyes slip shut and gave a half smile to the white window. She was coming, and the world would just have to accept her
 
 
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For all my friends starting out on a new adventure, alone and scared in the big bad world. Most especially Christabel