MesonHill’s Anem

Chapter 1: What was

We live in a world so engulfed in the technology and stories of today that people forget about the past. Years ago, if someone had suggested that, in the future, we would be able to communicate with each other from different sides of the planet, within a matter of seconds, they would be mocked for thinking so foolishly. Today, if a person happened to say that our world used to be a place filled with the wonders of magic, people would scorn the idea. 

Those who still believed in the world's former magical abilities did exist. Of course, they were the minority of the population, but their hearts were bigger than their heads, as they strived to encourage the non-believers that magic had truly existed and that it could be brought back. 

The non-believers had founded a nickname for the people who sought to influence. They called them 'Anems'. They didn't appreciate the nickname they had been appointed, because it implied that they were people who were stuck in the past; who didn't want to move forward. 

However, the new branding was good for them. This allowed the few activists, dotted in several different geographical areas, to combine their efforts. They were of no particular age, race or background, but just people who longed for a world like there used to be. 

Some of the strongest Anems could be found in a humble boarding school in Yorkshire, England. There were five of them; they were founded by none other than the fifteen-year-old Celeste Ripley.

A name that would, in time, be known by all. 

...

"Look at yourselves! Your faces are practically glued to the screens! Can't you see that our world has changed for the worse?" Celeste was questioning random passersby in the streets of Leeds city. 

She wasn't having much luck at persuading people to join her on her quest to bring back the magic. Then again, insulting strangers in the streets for getting on with their lives was rarely ever going to gain her support. 

Celeste had stationed herself in all different corners of the city to attempt to draw any attention to her cause, but it was proving ineffective. Most people would just pass by without giving her a second glance, whilst others would toss her the odd insult of 'get your head out of the past, Anem' or 'go home, child'. 

Celeste was far from a child. Her age stated that she was but her head was far older and wiser than that. That's what she believed, anyway. And, anyone who would get close enough to her would believe it, too. The issue was that Celeste never let anyone close to her. She'd been mocked most of her life for her beliefs and found it better to be reticent about her personal affairs.

As Celeste continued to quibble with the strangers of the street, she noticed a boy around her age advancing towards her. This couldn't be good, especially, if it was someone from her school. 

Because she was so reticent, Celeste didn't have any friends in school. She spent most of her time in the library completing homework early and researching the late nineteenth-century magic. This often resulted in her getting good grades and, coming from a school in the twenty-first century, also led to her having minimal friends.

Ultimately, this meant that some boy that she barely knew, heading towards her, couldn't be good. 

Celeste's haggling stopped immediately and her eyes darted to the floor. Her palms became clammy as anxiousness swarmed inside her. She forced herself to look up, putting on a confident front, as the boy advanced, with a menacing smirk engraved onto his face. 

Celeste's eyes moved to take in his appearance: jet black hair; piercing blue eyes; and a frame that towered over the majority of the people in the street. She sighed when she realised who it was. 

Jaxon Rush, MesonHill School's finest halfwit.

"No way!" Jaxon scoffed. He stopped dead in his tracks on the realisation of who the Anem was. 

"It's MesonHill's biggest nerd." He spat, then shifted his eyes towards the cardboard sign in Celeste's hand. "Protesting, are we? Do you actually think that you could change anything? I mean, look at you!" His eyes examined Celeste, as he turned up his nose to show the level of disgust he felt. "You're nothing more than an Anem. Irrelevant."

Celeste wasn't phased by the insults. She'd heard them a hundred times, or more, in the last year. But, that didn't stop her from wanting to retaliate. 

"Oh look, it's MesonHill's biggest bully, thinking that his words can affect me." Celeste's words were falling out of her mouth before she could stop to think of the repercussions that they would cause. "Well, boo hoo Jaxon. You don't bother me. You're nothing more than a brainless Ken doll for all the girls to play with." She hit him back with a similar insult, and you could practically see the anger steaming out of his ears and nose. 

"What's your name, again, freak? It seems you're not relevant enough for me to know." Jaxon returned to his arrogant stance, but he was much calmer now, after giving a response he was clearly satisfied with. 

"Celeste Ripley, you i***t. And, I know that you know that. Now, do the whole street a favour and get lost!" Celeste was becoming increasingly agitated by Jaxon's insults. Something that she wasn't used to. She was the school's well-known nerd. That had set her up for years worth of insults in school, on top of the ones she gained from protesting in the city streets. But, for some reason, Jaxon was the one person who could, so easily, get under her skin. 

"Oooh," Jaxon laughed "calm down, love. I'm just trying to save you the embarrassment of being insulted like this all the time."  He was now taunting her with the overuse of his hands when explaining himself.  

Before Celeste could respond, she looked towards a faint voice in the background, shouting Jaxon's name. There stood a girl with beautiful dark skin and the most luscious, brown, curly hair. Jaxon turned his attention from Celeste to the girl, then back to Celeste,  again. 

 "Duty calls, Ripley." He smirked, pointing towards the girl. "With any luck, I won't see you around." And, with his final insult, he turned away and started towards the girl. 

After Jaxon's sudden departure, Celeste looked to see the cardboard signs, that she had made, now laid scattered across the cobblestone street. She stood a while longer, collecting her thoughts, and finally decided that her attempts to change people's opinions on magic had been enough for the day. She gathered the signs into a pile and tucked them under her left arm. And, as the sun began to fade behind the tall city buildings, she headed back to MesonHill. 

Dusk had fallen, and the city lights radiated a wonderful glow into the streets. Many cars were running past, as people were heading home from work. Their engines filled the street with loud rumbles, making the area more suitable for a fifteen-year-old girl to wander alone. 

It didn't make it any less daunting for Celeste, however. Her eyes flitted to the entrance of every alleyway she walked past, ready to defend herself from any sort of danger. In one particular entrance, there was a group of boys, who were in their twelfth year at MesonHill. They stood with their backs leant against the edges of the buildings, and some with one foot c****d up against the walls. 

The city noises had formed to a small buzz in the background, as she approached the edge of the city centre. The boys were acting suspiciously, from what Celeste could see, and they came to a hush when they heard Celeste's foot brush against a broken shard of glass, which clattered across the concrete pavement. Celeste cringed at the noise, and her heart began pulsing at lightning speed. She only hoped they wouldn't notice who was about to walk past them. 

She advanced cautiously until her eyes came into contact with one of the boys. She tried to move her feet, and ready herself to run, but they were glued to the pavement by fear. The boy emerged from the blackness of the alleyway; his eyes still fixed on Celeste's. He had short, dark hair, and his skin was sickly pale. He approached Celeste with a threatening glint in his hazel eyes. He grasped Celeste's arm firmly in his hand and launched her body into the alleyway. 

"And what do you think you're looking at, Anem?" The group had gathered around Celeste, who had crumbled in a pile on the floor. 

"N-nothing" she stuttered.

"Something clearly caught your eye. Care to explain?" This boy was the ringleader of the g**g, from what Celeste could gather. The others stood slightly behind him but still held the same aggressive expressions as their leader. 

"It was nothing! Just let me go, okay?" Celeste tried to scramble back onto her feet, but the boy pushed her back down. 

"Did we say you could leave?" He spat. "You see, our kind," he said, pointing to the boys behind him "we don't like Anems. In fact, we loathe them. And, do you know what we do with people we don't like?" 

Celeste swallowed the enormous lump, which appeared in her throat. She didn't know what they meant but she sure didn't want to find out. 

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps was getting louder, as someone was approaching the alleyway. A bright light shone in Celeste's eyes. 

"What's going on here?" Celeste's vision cleared, and she noticed a stocky police officer stood at the entrance to the alleyway. 

"Nothing sir. This girl had just fallen over and landed next to this broken piece of glass. We were just checking to see if she was alright, but it seems she's fine, so she'll be on her way." The boys lied with such ease. At that comment, Celeste was on her feet and made her way out of that alleyway as fast as she could. 

The sky was even blacker now. How long had she been in that alleyway? Celeste pulled up the sleeve on her hoodie to reveal her watch. 

She was late. It was ten minutes past curfew, and she was still at least twenty minutes away from school. 

This was not like Celeste. She was always punctual. She would always turn up to classes on time; would always be back at her dorm for curfew; and, would always have work handed in on time. Surely, the school would keep that in mind. Surely, they would know that something must have happened for Celeste to be late. 

When Celeste arrived at the school gates, the monitors questioned why she was late, and where she had been. She explained the situation, but the monitors looked at each other with an untrusting expression. They turned to Celeste and instructed that she was to go straight to the headmaster's office to speak of the terms of her detention. She was, also, warned that the headmaster had already been informed that she was on her way, so going back to her dorm to escape punishment would only make things worse. 

Celeste complied and headed straight through the vast courtyard, into the large, elegant building, and towards the huge door which read 'Mr Dayholt' on the metal sign attached to it. She knocked, and the door was opened to let her in.

"Ahh, Miss Ripley. Please, sit down."