Secret Panorama: Grunium Duology, #1

By C.S. Voll

Marcus and Sasha wake up to a typical school day. Or is it?

Both of them start to remember a past life, one that fascinates and scares them as they try to unspool the tangled thread of memories. They can't afford to stumble. Some eyes never stop watching.

Secret Panorama, the debut action/adventure novel from C.S. Voll, is a journey of discovery in strange locales, populated by even more peculiar inhabitants. This work is the first instalment in the Grunium Duology, which explores the various mysteries tucked away in the quaint settlement of Mont Berg.

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• Language: English
• Publisher: C.S. Voll
• Release date: Feb 7, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386897101

C.S. Voll

C.S. Voll is a person who likes to wear many hats - metaphorical ones that is. He's a history scholar, writer, designer and music enthusiast. Above all though, he wants to live bravely, and maybe even have a great time along the way. 

Book preview

Part 1

Secret Panorama

Introduction 1 Marcus

Branches sway lazily in the early morning breeze. The timid lights of nearby houses start to shine through windows into the Monday evening. A town tries to shake off the sleep that clings to it like a worrisome blanket as a cat watches a boy through a window, hoping that the human would let him into the house. It observes actions that are quite unusual for this community: the dissident sleeper refuses to be roused and instead slams his hand on the alarm. Groaning, he shifts and tries to continue with his sleep. This status quo is only fleeting; the clopping of high heels can be heard outside of the room’s door. Impatient tapping of said heel soon ensues.

Marcus! You’re going to be late! Wake up! the owner of those shoes say.

In response to this Marcus just rolls over. More impatient tapping follows. Finally the door to the boy’s room creaks ajar and a distressed middle aged woman enters. She wears crisp grey business attire and moves with a distressed urgency. She shakes the boy awake and continues to chastise him for being so absent minded. At first the single response that the boy could muster was a bleary eyed stare at the woman. Realization seems to hit the teenager and he jumps out of the bed.

I LAUNCHED OUT OF THE bed. I didn’t want to be cornered by this strange woman who had just floated into my room. She just glanced at me though.

If it’s money that you want, you’ll get it, I said.

Her frown deepened. I backed up until I felt the coldness of a window on the nape of my neck. Meow! the sound erupted behind me and I took my eyes off the women for a moment. It was all she needed; she was on me and...hugged me.

I know it’s hard for you. She let out between sobs, and that you’re still adjusting from switching schools and leaving all your friends behind. We’re going to get through this...

School? This must be an elaborate family intervention to get my life on track. The lengths to which they would go to be able to dominate my life are deplorable, really. I tried to break free from her iron grip. Why did my arms feel so short? Why was she so tall? If they were so determined it’d probably be wise if I played along until I could suss out what was going on. With that decided, I let myself be hugged by the very convincing mom.

You wouldn’t want me to be late, Mom! You’ll have to allow me to dress!

With a few muttered apologies the woman, who clearly had to be an actor, fled the room.

I WAS FINALLY ABLE to examine my surroundings. Posters of a rock band, called The Triumphant Raisin, were plastered over every wall. The band was shown playing their instruments in various poses, with the strain of it all etched on their faces. Are these guys supposed to be my idols? It didn't seem possible that they could be anyone’s heroes, to be honest, though, kudos to my family for being crazy/creative enough to collect all of the memorabilia of the band, and then regurgitate it all over my room

I turned and spied a mirror on a bed end table. Chances were that I looked really bad, but I lifted the mirror, with my usual trepidation and saw a fresh-faced teenager stare, all wide eyed, back at me.

The mirror tumbled out of my grip as I let out a startled scream, but I didn't even hear it shatter while my thoughts raced over the possibilities. The last thing I recalled about the night before was that I had gone to bed, as usual at 11:00 pm, after I had played Fields of Battle with my buddies. There was a power outage that, irritatingly enough, interrupted my play time. I didn’t have long to think about this; steps thundered up, and the grey woman made her way into my room again.

Her gaze fell on the shards of glass on the floor and she said, I was just about to leave when I heard you. What is it with you today?

I couldn't even begin to define what it was! It would startle almost anyone if you find out you woke up in another body.

All I could think was that I needed to try to act calm, so I summoned what I thought was an encouraging smile and a thumbs up. Not exactly put at ease, she gave me a broom to sweep away the glass, and said to call her if I had any problems.

Her car pulled out of the driveway on her way to work, and I let out a relieved sigh. I knew she said I had to walk to school, but the mystery of how I came here took up most of my thoughts at that point, so I switched the old computer on. I fidgeted while I waited for it to start up. If anything could shed light on what was happening here, it would be the internet... 

Introduction 2 Sasha

Iwake up at my usual time, at 06:30 am on a Monday. I expect to hear the sound of my alarm, but instead there was just a profound silence. When I stand up I feel flooded with energy - the earlier nights paid off at last. In this peppy frame of mind, I open the door, but the hallway before me doesn’t look familiar. It was cavernous in comparison with the humble corridors of my place.

I LOOKED DOWN AT MY body and I was greeted by a pink night dress with a white rabbit pattern (not something I would usually wear). A photo was perched on a shelf in my eye line; three teenage girls with wide smiles preened on it. Sasha Eva was scrawled in flowery script on a dog-eared book that was perched upright next to it, which must have been a diary. The room and the clothes reminded me of when I was in my teenage years. Back then I used to talk late into the night with my friends; we always planned our lives out to the most minute detail, and during one particular sleepover I concocted an ambitious plan to marry a prince. I so wanted my existence to be a rose tinted song and dance number. Uuugh. It’s proof that people change.

AFTER I’D GATHERED up some courage, I snuck down the hallway to a sliver of light that I could just about make out. A man and a woman’s laughter rang out through the door. A wooden plank groaned underneath my right foot. No doubt the people inside heard, and just as I turned around to escape a voice called out: Sasha?!

I whispered an angry curse word. The game was up and I could just as well face it, so I edged my way to the room and poked the door open with a dainty, pale foot. Incredulous smiles shone on me when I entered. Both of them must’ve been middle aged. They looked like the typical sitcom couple who aged with grace and poise; in stories where the dad always tries a little too hard to be cool and the mom is overprotective, but somehow they’re always full of love. Now, though, they both gawked at me, as if they were stumped by a crossword puzzle. The man offered me a seat next to him and I accepted.

Sneaking around and training to be the first female 007, I see, he said.

I could only reply with that high pitched laugh of mine, which came out when I was unsure of anything.

Do you have an idea where I could find my clothes? I asked.

That question made them complete a double take. Both of them replied almost in unison, You can find it in your wardrobe! 

But I can’t go rummaging through your daughter’s wardrobe!

That outburst drew even more quizzical stares from them. The poor souls must have lost their daughter and now wanted to replace her with me?

A sudden look passed between them. They both stood up and moved to comfort me, but I stumbled back, and evaded their grasp and went straight down the hallway. I took a sharp left, back into the room, where I had woken up, and slammed the door shut. I still had the natty nightdress on, but the only clothes in the vicinity was a school dress and shirt draped over a chair. I slipped on the school clothes and crawled through the window before the two disillusioned people could burst into the room.

THE EARLY MORNING GLOOM hung around me while I sneaked, through the manicured garden and away from the house. I looked back just in time to see the dad burst into the room. A relieved sigh escaped from my mouth, which formed mist in the cold air as I made my way along the street in the suburb at a brisk pace.

Soon I spotted a shelter bus stop. It gave me some protection against the frigid air that howled down the boulevard. The shock began to wear off as I warmed up, and I could begin to process just what the heck really happened to me. Did I have one too many drinks at a bar and the couple took pity on me and took me in? That had to be it.

Note to self: lay off the booze. While I’d been chiding myself a couple of teenagers had gathered around me at the bus stop. They were all dressed like me, but it didn't look like the kids noticed or cared that a woman more than a decade older than them sitting there in school clothes. I slumped back down on the bench.

A lanky girl brightened and attempted to, the horror of it, start a real conversation with me. She seemed so familiar with me that I started to suspect that she mistook me for somebody, but she kept calling me Sasha over and over while she tried to beckon me to sit with her. The bus arrived and shrieked as it stopped, and I felt myself forced towards it along with the push of bodies.

When I was seated on the bus, the girl asked: What’s wrong Sasha? I know it’s not fun, but we have to go to school!

I grumbled that I didn’t want to go, but she wouldn’t have any of it. I just hoped that I’d be dropped off somewhere.

WHITE PICKET FENCES and ivory smiles blazed by while the bus lurched forward. It stopped after what felt like an eternity, and the door slid open to allow the kids to plod out. My friend, once again, shepherded me out against my will.

When we reached the school gate, I observed other kids wear the same strained expression of confusion that I felt. There was no time to dwell on that, because the lanky girl already tugged on my arm.  Did I really look so youthful that I could be mistaken for a teenager?! The yoga and detox must be doing wonders, though they could stop the flattery, really.

Whoa, whoa! Wait a minute beanstalk. I’m not a high school student. I haven’t been for over a decade, I said.

Nice try Sasha. I know you want to dodge the algebra test today, but you’ve got to do better than that.

Could I at least get the name of my tall tormenter?

She gave me a once over. Hahaha, sure Sasha, my name is K-r-i-s-t-i. You look like shit though, so you’ll have to go clean up, if you want to continue this charade.

I let myself be ushered to the bathroom. I rounded the corner and was shocked by what I witnessed. 

Chapter 3 Marcus

Iexplored every dusty corner of the internet on my home computer. It all looked too simplistic, too clean; more of an intranet than an internet. The only accessible things were crude email sites, online encyclopaedias and the local news website, with everything displayed in an anachronistic 90’s style. None of the websites available were familiar to me either. I hope I wasn’t caught in one of those cults.

The telephone in the room started to ring and I plucked it up, more to stop the incessant sound than anything else.

Good morning, this is Halifold High. We are calling to hear the reason for Marcus’ absence from school.

The phone almost flew out of my hand. By the time I put the receiver to my ear again the line was dead, perhaps I had pushed it by accident. Marcus was the name the curious women had called me. It seemed like I’d have to go to school now, to settle everything and maybe get some answers.

CLASSES WERE ALREADY in session when I snuck into the entrance of the school, which looked like it had been carved by titans and left as a reminder to future generations. Marcus’ roster set out in detail how he was to have English class at room 204 the next period, so of course, I hid myself away in the toilet until the start of this class. Not my proudest moment.

I blended into the crowd of kids when they burst from the classrooms, while the chime of the clock announced the end of one period. The children walked in tidy lines to their respective classes. The numbers on each door made it easy to recognize each class, and I strode into classroom 204. This wasn’t my first rodeo after all; I had already anticipated the stereotypical personalities that you’d find in any classroom: the classroom bully, rebel, class clown, teacher’s pet, the deep and dark, beauty kings and queens, athletes, popular socialites. I’d just try to slip into this spectrum of souls.

All around me student’s smiles flashed, which made me uneasy. I wiped away my well-trimmed hazel coif, which looked similar to what many of those baby faced, boy band members had. When I opened my mouth, the beginning of a hello croaked out, but the period bell drowned it out.

As if on cue, a tall, scruffy figure with a shock of red hair marched into the class. The man wore a tartan jacket, which he draped over the chair, and he eyed the students. He marched to the blackboard and silence filled the air. Like an alpha wolf, that asserted its dominance over a pack, the man stared us down with a pair of small eyes, and chairs creaked as some of the most anxious students began to shift around.

A thin, sallow boy broke first when he said, Where is Miss Walters, sir?

The boy squirmed as the man shifted the weight all of his attention on him. A crimson claw of hair swayed above his brow like a metronome as the teacher considered his answer.

Suffice it to say that Miss Walters won’t be making it to the class anymore.

The reply soaked into the room. When I looked around, I saw questions written on a number of the faces around me. The teacher also noted this and a smile creased across his sharp face.

His demeanour changed, and he bellowed out with enthusiasm, Get ready to rumble classroom 204!!!

Everyone sat and blinked while the teacher leapt back to the blackboard. He scrawled a name: Mr. Anthony Leo. I could not imagine a person that looked less like a lion than Mr Leo; his long limbs moved of their own accord while he scurried to and fro to gather his notes. The computer at the front of the class whirred into life and a projector cast a bright light on the wall opposite, then a slideshow started with a title page that was so colourful and busy that it was almost inscrutable, but I could just about make out the words The Tempest.

MR. LEO’S CLASS TURNED out to be the one memorable high point of the first couple of periods. He was full of energy while he swayed between the various themes of the play and he engaged with the students throughout the lesson. The other subjects that followed felt like purgatory in comparison. Most of the teachers had a monotone drawl that almost put me to sleep by reflex, and I was relieved when the lunch break came around.

When I walked out on the expansive school grounds of pedicured grass, I couldn't help but notice other teenagers, who also seemed lost, which was strange, because it was already the second semester. My eye fell on a girl by the entrance gate who remonstrated with an older man, which appeared to be her dad. Their argument could be heard even from across the school ground. 

Why did you sneak out of the house?!

Why are you acting so weird?

Why don’t you answer me?!

The teenage girl received all of these questions stone-faced. After a few minutes they broke off the heated discussion, though neither of them seemed satisfied, and when she walked back to the school building I could make out her face. At that moment she wore a puzzled expression, scrunching up her freckled nose into a small pointed beak. She was a diminutive girl with hair dyed the colour of a raven and collected in a messy bun but her bedraggled appearance matched what I felt at that moment. She wandered by and I greeted her, but I only received a small nod in return, before a lanky girl rushed from an alcove towards her.

Sasha! Sasha! Where were you? the onrushing girl said when she reached her reached shorter friend.

The Goth, called Sasha, answered through clenched teeth, Nothing you need to know about.

A feeling of hopelessness came over me as I started to walk out of earshot. Now, finally, having time to reflect on the situation the gravity of everything overwhelmed me, and maybe the life that I recalled was nothing but a dream, and I had just woken up to this reality. My existence as a programmer on a farm outside a little town could be a figment of my imagination. I tried to push the memories of that life to the back of my mind.

Chapter 4 Sasha

While Kristi tried to chat with me I looked back and spotted an athletic boy, who had just greeted me. He was deep in thought, but a mob of girls already moved towards him and I didn't blame them. He looked like one of those innocent, sweet teenagers that girls usually swooned over. They had a habit of being heart breakers and nightmare makers.

Kristi always stayed at my side. As if she thought just being close to me for long enough would allow her to attach herself to me, like a mushroom on some tree. Would I be a conifer, though...maybe an oak...

You were clearly not listening to me just now! the mushroom said.

I was a little peeved that my thoughts were halted. No I didn’t, but please go on.

You’ve changed Sasha. You were nasty to other people, but never to me.

Yeah, we aren’t very popular, are we?

The type of honesty seemed to take Kristi aback a little. Her face shifted through a roll call of expressions as her brow knitted together and frayed apart. The rest of the walk to the cafeteria went by in silence.

ROWS UPON ROWS OF KIDS waited in line to get food from the cafeteria, like early morning traffic in a smog filled city, each teenager was shunted close to each other while they vied for space. I should have gone earlier, but my da-, I mean, the odd man had slowed me down with his rant. Kristi took the initiative though and led me to a clunky vending machine where we got soda and chips. Her short haired blond head bobbed up and down between the swarm of people while we looked for a table, and was like a traffic light in the avenue of confusion. I guess I didn’t have to take out all my frustration out on this girl, even as ridiculous as everything was. Without her it would’ve been a lot more difficult, because she had helped me to get used to the classes (even with the algebra test) without even asking any too many questions. Kristi had been genuinely nice to me. While I resolved to make it up to her, a sound pierced the air behind me:

Haaaah!!! I can’t take it anymore! What is this?!

A sharp pain stung my back, and I was flung to the ground. I looked up just in time to glimpse a boy about our age barge through people; his incoherent scream rang in my ears as I struggled to get up. A firm hand grasped my shoulder from somewhere and helped me up. I followed the length of the sinewy arm until I gazed at the concerned face of Kristi.

Thank you and, before you ask me, yes, I’m alright.

I sat down at one of the vacant tables and I tried to collect myself.

KRISTI AND I WALKED home after the school day had ended. It was such a gorgeous, sunny day that going outside really was the only option, and sure enough, other students also swarmed out of the school. As we walked we dodged the odd bicycle, while our conversation couldn’t move past the incident with the male student in the cafeteria. He had to be restrained by the school janitors while he was led off the premises, and it jarred me to see someone act out the fear and uncertainty that I felt ever since I had woken up.

WE REACHED KRISTI’S house in just a couple of minutes, and she splintered off while I continued on my