Drowning in Deception

By Willa Jemhart

Clover lives in the beautiful, crime free City of Eadin. The Wall runs along the city’s eastern boundary, ensuring that the monsters that live on the other side remain safely tucked away. All of the citizens’ worldly needs are provided for them and they are free to spend their days doing whatever pleases them. All this makes for a content and happy society.

But Clover is about to discover that her world is not the perfect place it seems, that she has been drowning in deception her entire life. The people of Eadin have been lied to, their history has been kept from them, and they have been unknowingly forced into submission.

As Clover’s new knowledge sets in, she learns that even she is not the person she thought she was. In a world where it’s no longer clear which side of the Wall the real monsters live on, Clover, with her new-found sense of self, is determined to set things right.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Willa Jemhart
• Release date: Nov 28, 2013
• ISBN: 9781310561559

Willa Jemhart

Willa lives in British Columbia, Canada. She enjoys a variety of activities, but her favorites are those that involve relaxing. Sitting in the backyard with a cold cooler in the summer, and cozying up with a blanket and a bowl of popcorn while watching a movie in the winter are at the top of her list. Of course she loves to read, and while she is not picky on the genre, she prefers books that contain romance in one form or other.To date, Willa has written the ebook YA novella series; The Garnet Trilogy, and a paranormal romance; Ridley House. Her latest ebook, the YA dystopian, Drowning in Deception has now been released and will soon be available at most online retailers.For more information, please visit her website: www.willajemhart.com

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Drowning in Deception

By Willa Jemhart

Copyright 2013 Willa Jemhart

Smashwords Edition

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and events are the product of the author`s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

Acknowledgements

This year, 2013, has been a very hard one for me. I worried that the personal hardships I was going through might completely kill my spirit. For a time, I stopped writing and wondered if I would ever be able to find the passion to do it again. I have to thank the friends and family who were my rocks and my sounding boards through this difficult time. There is no need to name them, as they know who they are. Their love and support means the world to me. And it’s what helped pick me up, eventually convincing me to find my passion and my spirit once again.

As far as this book, Drowning in Deception, goes, there are three women who I need to specifically name. Without them, this particular book would still be laying, incomplete, in the rubble that I thought my life had become.

Sam Kasbrick of SIK Editing Services

First of all, I thank her for her amazing and thorough editing skills. I highly recommend her services. Please feel free to contact her for your own editing needs at SIK Editing Services.

Beyond the editing of this book, I also have to thank her for her belief in my writing, for being my cheerleader, for making me smile and laugh from three whole provinces away, and most of all for her tireless help with this project. Though Sam and I haven’t known each other for very long, hers is a friendship that I have quickly come to value, and one that I hope will continue into the coming years.

Paulette McCue

I thank her for her understanding and for sharing her own thoughts and personal experiences. I thank her for entrusting me with her own creative works. And I thank her for the gentle, yet timely nudges that pushed me to get back to writing. Her honesty, her critiquing, and her suggestions are appreciated more than I can say.

Viv Lieskovsky

I thank her for being a supporter of my writing from the get-go, for encouraging me to reach for my dream. I am grateful for her constant advocating of all things creative and artistic. I thank her for always taking time out of her busy life to read and assess my work. Most importantly, I thank her for her understanding, her listening ear, and her hugs of encouragement.

CHAPTER ONE

Once upon a time there was a beautiful yellow-haired maiden. Her life was carefree but for one thing. She lived in fear of the ferocious man-eating monster that lived in the land adjacent to her own…

Fear… Clover paused, considering what fear meant to her. She needed to think her story through before writing more. She lifted her eyes from the page, squinting deeply as she gazed toward the Wall. The very idea of what lived and breathed on the other side of that structure was exactly what fear meant to her.

The Wall stood tall and firm, gleaming brightly in the mid-morning sun. At least five stories high and fashioned from a polished, seamless metal, it reflected a blinding glare. Clover was sitting propped against her favorite tree near the edge of the forest. Pencil in hand, workbook open to the page where her latest story would take life, she raised her arm to shade her eyes from the brightness.

This great wall, only a few yards away to her left, represented safety to all the citizens of Eadin. It was a great long line that dipped and rose with the ever-changing terrain it was fixed upon, stretching from north to south as far as the eye could see, getting eaten up by the horizon, and as far as Clover was concerned, quite possibly to the ends of the world. At the very top, criss-crossed in angles of every degree, were razor-sharp blades, ensuring that no one and nothing could ever crest it. Nobody could quite recall who had built it or when, but that wasn’t important. What mattered was that the Wall was the ever-constant reminder to the citizens of this perfect city that they were protected, that as long it stood erect, they would be safe; safe from the horrifying creatures that lived on the other side.

They were blood-thirsty beasts with eyes that glowed yellow, who relished the chewy texture of human flesh and the crunch and crack of human bones breaking between their teeth.

Yes, they were safe from the monsters on the other side of the Wall, and that left them free to go about their days without a care in the world. They were safe. And they were content.

The air was still and calm on this day, the sky a soft, clear aquamarine. Clover shivered in the warmth of the sun as she thought about the monsters. She had never written a scary story before, had never written about a monster, so this would be a new challenge.

Her pencil clicked rapidly between her top and bottom teeth as she envisioned what the protagonist and antagonist would look like. She knew the fair maiden would have long, flowing, golden blonde hair that ended in curlicues half-way down her back, much like Clover’s own hair. The monster would be repulsive, with slimy skin, grotesquely twisted fangs and yellow eyes. She grinned with satisfaction. This was going to be good.

The pencil's pace quickened between her teeth. To make it truly scary, she would need to evoke a sense of fear. This wasn’t going to be easy for her, since she’d never felt real fear before. The fear that held you when you accidentally spilled bright red juice on your mother’s cream-colored rug would not be sufficient for this story. No. It had to be the kind of fear that would fill the reader with terror, making them tremble and want to hide under their covers.

She blinked to clear her inner eyelids of the sunspots left from staring at the bright wall. Her eyes came to rest on the line of large white stones. This line represented the city’s boundary. The stones started at the base of the Wall near where she sat, and stretched all the way around the lengthy outer perimeter of Eadin before ending miles and miles to the north at the Wall once again. It was forbidden to cross that line, and doing so was punishable by law.

She didn’t know what the purpose of the boundary line was, nor did she really care to know. She had asked her mother about it once, but the response had been anything but helpful.

She had been just a little thing then, a child of maybe four or five years. She was sick with a horrible flu, one that caused her to throw up everything she ate or drank. She hadn’t been feeling like herself at all and she had asked her mother many questions during her illness. It had been strange because curiosity wasn’t something that came naturally to her. She had asked her mother, why, if the monsters were all safely tucked away on the other side of the Wall, were the people of Eadin not allowed to cross the boundary line. Her mother had pulled the thick blanket up to Clover’s chin and placed a cool cloth on her forehead, cheerily saying, It is not our place to question why things are the way they are. We should be happy in knowing we are safe and well. That’s all.

The pencil now clenched firmly between her teeth, she decided that had been a very reasonable question for a youngster to ask. Even though the answer had been unsatisfactory to her at the time, Clover now knew that her mother had been right. It didn’t really matter, as long as they were safe and content.

This was the place that Clover always came to write her stories, draw and color the pictures that went alongside them. It was peaceful here, with a mix of tree species whose leaves mildly scented the air, and long wild grasses that blew as if dancing in a gentle breeze. Being at the edge of the woods, the nearest house was a good distance away, and the only sounds she ever heard were those of the birds’ conversations as they flitted from tree to tree. It was a place where a person could think, and it was a place where a person could write and sketch for hours without interruption.

In all the time she had been coming here, she had never once considered stepping over the boundary line. But on this day, she was contemplating it. To her, the other side of that line of white stones represented mystery and fear - the exact elements her story required. To write true fear, she decided, she would need to experience true fear.

She pulled the pencil from the grip of her teeth and dropped it, along with her workbook, into her shoulder bag. She stood and hastily brushed off her backside as she slowly approached the line.

Clover always followed the rules and never questioned them. They were in place for her safety and well-being. She knew this and she respected it. But this was different. She didn’t believe that she was being curious or rebellious. She wasn’t acting on the instincts of a criminal. She was an artist in need of inspiration.

She stopped directly in front of the row of white stones, close enough that the toes of her pretty flat shoes touched it. After a careful look over her right shoulder and then her left, she found that she was completely alone, as she always was when she came here. Sucking in a large breath of air, she lifted her foot and placed it gingerly down on the other side of the rock line. She held her breath and looked around again to make doubly sure no one was watching. Finding it clear, she let her other foot join the first.

She exhaled and smiled. It hadn't been so bad. No alarms had gone off. People weren't suddenly swarming around to haul her away. She placed a hand to her chest when she noticed her heart rate had increased, which was a good start to experiencing fear. But it wasn’t enough. The story needed to arouse more from the reader than a quick pulse. She told herself she needed just a little more, and then she would go back. In fact, she would be so quick that it wouldn’t even seem like she’d stepped over the line at all.

She began walking, looking around at the scenery which was identical to that on her own side of the boundary. The trees were the same, as were the long grasses. It didn’t feel much different as she had hoped it would. But still, as she walked, the story started to manifest itself in her mind.

The little girl would be ten years old and very naive and silly at first. But as the story progressed, she would grow wiser and braver, and eventually save her land from the horrible monster. She walked slowly, watching as her feet padded softly on the earth and grass. Her characters were coming together nicely. Aside from being ugly, the monster would be huge and have putrid breath. On and on her mind went, pieces of the tale coming faster and faster, her legs swinging quicker and harder along the ground to match the pace of the ideas that raced in her head. It was coming to her in great rushes of inspiration, and she could feel that this would be her best story yet.

She stopped with a jolt when she realized the ground beneath her had darkened. She looked around and was astonished to find that her previously unseeing eyes had brought her to a place where the forest was different. Tall trees loomed thick around her, blocking out the warmth and light of the sun. Their gnarled branches were reaching out and downward, trying to get a grip on some unseen enemy. Thick green moss clung to the sides of many of their trunks, creeping downward to the forest floor, creating a spongy carpet at their bases. It was quiet here. Too quiet. This part of the forest even had an ominous, dank smell to it.

Clover hadn't meant to come this far. As she looked around, she started to feel dizzy. Her heart was pounding, banging an echoing drumbeat in her ears, and making it impossible to hear what might be hiding in the distorted shadows. Suddenly it was as if the trees had found their unseen enemy: her. And they were reaching for her, stretching their grotesquely twisted arms further to find their grip. She had found fear all right - much more than she had been looking for. She felt the blood drain from her head as she realized it was a mistake to have come here. She needed to get back; back to the safety of Eadin on the other side of the boundary line. And she needed to get there fast.

She turned on her heel to sprint back in the direction she had come, but the instant she rushed forward her body slammed into something hard. The world momentarily went grey and hazy as she flew backwards, hitting the ground with a hard thump.

She shook her head and blinked the fuzziness away. When her eyes came in to focus, she sucked in a quick breath. Sitting in front of her in a similar predicament was a boy. He was shaking his head and rubbing one of his shoulders. A wide-eyed girl stooped beside him pulling at his arm, but never taking her eyes off Clover.

The duo in front of Clover looked to be approximately her age. But they may have been slightly older or younger. It was hard to tell because of the way they were dressed. They obviously weren't from Eadin. Their clothing was dull and drab, in shades of off-white, beige and brown. The boy wore plain pants and a dirty button-front shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The girl was in a long, gathered, boring brown skirt and a bib style apron, like the one Clover’s mother sometimes wore when cooking or baking. The girl’s mousy brown hair was pulled into two loose braids, and the biggest shock of all was that she was wearing absolutely no make-up. Not even a trace of lipstick. She was, in Clover’s opinion, very plain looking. Clover wouldn’t have been caught dead wearing braids, and at the very least, lipstick was a necessity. The girl’s eyes scanned Clover. Clover followed her stare, looking down at her own bright blue mini skirt and banana-colored blouse.

They assessed each other silently, cautiously. Clover suddenly wondered where they could be from, if not from Eadin. She wasn't aware that any other cities existed in the world, and it had never even occurred to her to wonder such things. And then as quickly as the curiosity had come, it disappeared. It didn’t matter who they were or where they were from. What mattered was getting home.

Her tongue was frozen in her mouth. And even if she had known what to say, she wasn’t sure they would understand. She didn’t know if people that dressed as they did even knew how to speak. She slowly got to her feet, brushing the dirt off her skirt and hands while making sure to keep a careful eye on the boy and girl in front of her. The boy quickly followed her lead, getting to his feet, with his eyes narrowed and glued to Clover’s.

She watched as they grabbed for each other’s hands in a swift motion, clasping them together at their sides. That’s when it occurred to her that there were two of them and only one of her. Yes, she had found fear. Her throat suddenly felt like it was made of sandpaper.

She had to leave. She needed to get back to where she would be safe. But the trees were so dense here, and the only way back was directly through the place where the strange couple were standing. Then she realized that she might be blocking their path too.

Clover found inspiration in the young maiden from the story she would write. Just as her main character would do, she squared her shoulders and told herself to be brave. She tentatively stepped to one side and gave a slight nod, silently allowing the couple room to pass.

The boy cautiously stepped forward, leading the girl. Clover’s body tensed as her breath snagged in her sandpaper throat.

He stepped forward again, his body now right beside hers. Too close. She could see every strand of his messy, dark hair, every piece of stubble on his jaw line. And she could see his eyes… They were wide and dark, locked onto hers with a mix of both fear and warning. They were wild, like the eyes of a threatened animal that is debating whether to run or to attack. He had a long jagged scar that ran down almost the full length of his left cheek. Clover had never seen a scar like that before. It wasn’t something that could have been caused by a fall or other accident. It was a mark that screamed of danger.

She inhaled to calm herself and that’s when the sweet earthy smell of him hit her nose. It was a like a fusion of freshly tilled soil and sweet cakes just pulled from the oven. It was oddly comforting and she felt her pulsing heart slow as she let her guard down slightly.

Just as the corners of her lips started to rise, the boy reached forward and grabbed the bag from her shoulder. It happened so quickly that she had no time to react, no time to get a hand onto her bag to keep him from pulling it away.

Hey, she squeaked, barely recognizing her own voice. That's mine.

But they were fast. They were already sprinting away, the girl being led by the boy, who tightly gripped her hand as he pulled her along.

Give it back! Clover yelled. But they were gone; swallowed up by the dark shadows of the eerie, dank trees.

She was about to holler again when she remembered she wasn’t even supposed to be there. When she had stepped over that long line of white rocks, she had broken a strict law. If she kept yelling, she may as well be confessing her guilt, announcing her uncharacteristic criminal behavior and telling the world she should be punished.

Instead, she crossed her arms, hung her head, and trekked back toward the boundary line and to the safety of the city. Her bag was gone, along with all of her favorite things. Her book, which contained three completed stories, drawings and all, would never be seen again. She shuffled and kicked her feet through the dirt, feeling like a fool for having disobeyed the rules. She couldn’t tell anyone what she’d done. She could only hope her mother wouldn’t ask about her bag or her workbook.

When she finally stepped back over the line, she glanced around tentatively. There was no one there. There never was. But without her book, she didn’t want to be there anymore either. Her latest story was lost too as far as she was concerned, the beautiful maiden having been kidnapped by two strange people in the woods.

***

Clover wandered slowly toward home. Wanting to take her mind off what had happened, she meandered through the bright sun-lit forest before reaching the side roads of the city. Eadin was such a pleasant place to live. It was clean and the people were all agreeable.

She walked along the suburban side roads with their neat little single dwellings and row houses, none of which was more than three stories high. In fact, there was only one building in the entire city that was taller; the Watch Tower stood tall and proud in the city center with its reflective windows and tiered form. The bottom two levels spanned an area of five city blocks and the next two levels up spanned a little less, and so on, all the way to the top. It looked like a gigantic square wedding cake, with the top layer reaching high into the sky.

Her father worked on the top floor. He was the man in charge up there. On the roof was a landing pad for three large, dual rotor helichoppers. Every night her father and the other men on the top floor worked hard keeping their city safe. Many nights they would fly over the Wall to check the area on the other side. They would make sure the monsters were not doing anything that might bring harm to the citizens of Eadin. He had told Clover at times, when her mother wasn’t around, that sometimes he even had to fight the monsters. She couldn’t imagine anyone as brave or as wonderful as her heroic father.

After a long time of walking on and gazing at the perfectly manicured lawns and flowerbeds of the brightly colored homes, Clover was almost ready to go home. She stopped at the playground near her house and sat on one of the swings, shuffling her feet in the dirt beneath. She was feeling better, deciding that maybe her story wasn’t lost forever. It was, after all, still in her head. All she needed was a new workbook.

A little girl with straight black hair took the swing beside her. Hi, she said to Clover.

Hi.

She looked to be about seven or eight years old, which was just around the age group that Clover liked to write her stories for.

What’s your name? the girl asked.

Clover. What’s yours?

The little girl walked backward and quickly pulled her legs from the ground, causing her to fly past Clover on her swing. But she didn’t take her eyes off Clover. I’m Janie.

Nice to meet you, Janie. Clover remained sitting still, watching the girl fly back and forth.

My mom told me to come play at the park. I was bothering her with too many questions.

Questions about what?

Back and forth she went, getting higher and higher. Oh, you know. All kinds of things. Why is the sky blue? Who invented the clock? Why do I have to make my bed every day if I’m just going to mess it up again each night?

Clover had to laugh a little. They were very good questions, and ones she’d never thought to ask.

She found herself answering the little girl in the way that her mother answered the few questions that she had asked as a child. What does it matter? We are safe, happy and healthy. You should be content with things as they are and not worry about why they are the way they are.

Janie flew off her swing, landing gracefully on her feet. She turned and tilted her head at Clover, squinting one eye closed from the mid-day sun. Yeah, that’s what my mom said too. And she skipped away toward the slide.

Clover supposed it was the mom kind of thing to say.