Beyond the Border | ✔

16 | rule 92

RULE 92: OUR ISOLATION FROM THE REST OF THE WORLD IS WHAT KEEPS US ON THE RIGHT PATH. STRAY AWAY, AND YOU WILL NOT BE SO FORTUNATE.

✷ C H A P T E R      S I X T E E N ✷

My search for Ma thus far was unsuccessful — not for a lack of trying, though. I had been stowed away in the Alpha Wing for the better half of a week. Suffice to say, I had plenty of time to carry out my preliminary search for Ma, but I kept coming up short, empty-handed.

I knew Ma disappeared over ten years ago, but the exact date eluded me; most days I could not remember what day of the week it was, let alone the day of the month. Most families in the Borderlands didn't keep a calendar handy since there was one posted in the town center. All I had to go off of was her name and the general year she was dragged over the Border.

Specifically, I knew she got dragged over the Border when I was eight years old. I knew that was a good starting point — my only starting point. However, knowing how to get further than conjuring up a starting point proved to be much more difficult.

Growing up with Memphis, he would always bring in and swap out newspapers from the Outside. Newspapers that would detail a week's events in the world that laid beyond the Border. Over the years, I had grown quite familiar with the newspapers, especially as sometime during my early years, Mr. Rutter started a newspaper of his very own.

Of course, his newspaper was not something the Outside would quantify as worthy enough of such an official title. Mr. Rutter would write down the happenings of the Borderlands on a sole sheet of paper, post it in the town center each Sunday, and then rinse and repeat this cycle up until his death.

Nevertheless, newspapers were – at the very least – somewhat familiar to me in this foreign world, so I determined the next step would be to locate some newspapers in hopes there were some remnants of Ma's existence in one of them. I knew my best bet would be to rummage through the library.

My heart jittered at the possibility of navigating this world entirely wrong, but I knew back in the Borderlands, our town library was a place for archives; a record of each Borderlander was filed away behind the librarian's desk, waiting for the dust to be swept of off since no one needed to look at the contents – everyone knew everyone.

As my eyes scoured the many bookshelves in the library, I huffed in anticipation of my long-awaited task. I was never one to hide behind words all day; too many of them made my head throb and my palms sweat, but I was determined to make good come out of this isolation.

Instead of dwelling on the setbacks such an isolation would cause, I was dead-set on making as much progress as I could. Realistically, I knew I was limited in my reach like I was swimming against the current. I would only be able to get so far without help from someone on the Outside, but I was not so desperate yet. I still had over two months to procure a witch. Two months to find out what happened to Ma.

With new determination, I swirled around, trying to see if I could spot any familiar glimpses of newspapers. At first glance, all I saw were books; lots and lots of books that looked to rival the ages of all the books in the Borderlands. Trying not to let this discourage me, I dragged my finger across the bookshelf as I walked, making sure to look at each shelf individually.

I had almost missed shelves jam-packed with manilla boxes, which were tucked in a hard-to-find shelf. I passed by them for a second, my mind occupied with thoughts of home when I doubled back, realizing I had passed what I had been looking for. Without a second thought, I opened one of the boxes to find it filled to the brim with newspapers.