Chapter 1 by shivaree

NORMALACY
CHAPTER 1
An end. The one thing that Myu wanted most of all, and end to her homework problems, seemed farer away than the dark side of the moon. Myu hugged her coat tighter to herself as she walked down the old cobblestone street, autumn leaves swirling around her head like a bizarre halo. Myu dug her slender fingers into her pocket, sorting through the awry of old pennies, discarded gum wrappers, and spare scraps of paper and withdrew the note her mother had written for her before school.

Mr. Linden
165 Battlement Street
Old Town

Her parents had decided that the most practical and efficient way to help their daughter better her grade was to hire a private tutor. Though, Myu did have a long debate on that subject with the benefits of quitting school and becoming a professional painter. Myu could still hear her mother's voice nagging her how nothing ever came of them. Myu! You'll have a good life if you get good grades. You can move on and get a good job. Think how many painters there are? A few are needed for our National Art Program,but all those painters are hard workers who went to fancy universities.

That didn't matter to Myu though, plain and simple she just didn't want a tutor. Preferably, she didn't want to worry about grades but you can't have everything in life, now can you? Anyway, there are more pressing matters on hand for Myu. Mainly, she had arrived at her distance of 165 Battlement Street; better known as Mr. Linden's address.
The house was old and built on a grand scale, when it was built – however many generations ago – it was obvious that no expense was spared. Unfortunately, the beauty of the house's face had been marred from The War. An honor, really. That meant it had been significant, a place of plot and intrigue. Myu bounded up the front stairs of the white wooden front porch with the infectious enthusiasm of a teenage youth and knocked on the large door, rocking back and forth on her shoes.

After a few more emphatic knocks the door opened, revealing a man in his mid fifties to early sixties. He was a few scant inches taller than the petite Myu, but age had given him a considerable amount of girth and his swirls of white hair left a rather large bald spot on his head. He was dressed as a man of his station should, wearing black pants, a white button up shirt, black suit jacket, and a navy blue waistcoat embroidered with golden stitching.

A smile came to his mouth and the crinkled lines about his eyes showed the results of a life of soft smiling. “You must be Miss Kravork?” Mr. Linden inquired politely and held out his hand. Myu couldn't help but feel that she liked him, and held out her hand in return. She was surprised that Mr. Linden had a firm grip for his age. “Call me Myu,” she returned.

Mr. Linden stepped aside, allowing her to enter. “I have the library set up for studying” he said and led her down a hall longer than the ones seen in an old museum, and with white marble flooring and all the other touches of nostalgic antiquities. On one side of this gargantuan corridor was the library, it had a massive dark oak door that led to the room.

The library itself contained all the books, of course in The Nation's brown leather binding, that one would expect to find in a scholar's library. “Wow,” Myu said, and punctuated the sentence with a long, soft whistle. “You're free to look around while I get some extra paper,” he said and walked over to his mahogany desk, situated in one of the corners.

While Myu looked about the room she noticed one lone book. It was situated in a glass display case, and something was horribly wrong about it. It didn't have brown leather binding. It wasn't even green leather of school books. “Why do you have one of the books from before The Nation?” she asked bewilderedly.

Mr. Linden looked up carefully, his face studious and concerned. “It's for decorative purposes only...” he said slowly. Myu looked at the book again, knowing Mr. Linden's statement to be a blatant lie. There was no dust on the book as far as she could see, and, it looked to be frequently read. “Mm” she murmured. “Still....” she said, about to inform him, if in case he had somehow forgot, “no one's supposed to – I mean...”
Mr. Linden gave a slightly proud looking smile when he heard her voice waver, and set down the pieces of paper back on his desk. “I have not committed treason and I am not a traitor. However, if I were a traitor I would tell you that you should be careful. Because, if I were a traitor that would mean that that book is truly a book from before The War, before The Nation, and is therefore labeled as horrible propaganda that is so vile it should not be read. Which, if I were a traitor I would not believe, but if I were a traitor I would already be in danger, and would probably not want anyone else to come to trouble because of me.”