What Happened On Lavender Ridge

New Beginnings

Miles lay awake in his bed, his blue eyes fixated on the emptiness of his bedroom ceiling, patiently awaiting the sound of his alarm that would signal the end of procrastination. His head throbbed, and his thoughts raced until the resounding silence was shattered by his alarm. The phone was within arm's reach, yet it seemed an insurmountable distance away. His arm felt heavy against the soft mattress; would he manage to hit snooze, or would the alarm persist indefinitely?

He remained still and paralyzed for a moment longer before mustering the courage to seize the phone from the bedside table. With a tap on snooze, silence reclaimed the room, and there he lay, once again gazing at the vacant ceiling.

Abel, Miles' brother, was seated at his desk with headphones in and pencil poised. He was engrossed in writing in his journal—a common sight; indeed, you would find him doing so nine times out of ten. What he penned remained a mystery—thoughts, emotions, or perhaps a manifesto? That knowledge was his alone, and he took pride in keeping it undisclosed.

With each stroke of the pencil and every sweep of eraser dust, his words waltzed across the page as gracefully as a girl at a ball—swift and precise. He scribbled furiously, his grip tightening into a cramp, yet he urged himself on with the thought, "Just one more sentence." Eventually, the discomfort became unbearable, and he had to pause to alleviate it. He set his pencil beside his journal in the desk drawer and began to shake his hand vigorously.

Massaging the knot at the center of his palm, he caught a glimpse of flickering light through the holes where the blind's strings threaded. Puzzled, he rose and strode to the window, flinging the blinds open with such force it was as though he expected to confront an intruder.

Instead, what greeted him was perhaps an even more alarming sight: the sun's rays cresting over the mountains.

"Shit!" he exclaimed, rushing to his closet to grab the first clothes he could lay hands on—a black T-shirt, blue jeans, and black-and-white sneakers. He shrugged on his shirt and leaped into his pants before dashing out of his room, flinging the door wide open. He leaped out as it swung aggressively, but his momentum was abruptly halted. He had collided directly with Miles, knocking him to the ground and causing him to hit the back of his head against the wall.

"Sorry Miles, I thought you might have left without me," he explained, offering a hand.

"No, I started late this morning," he replied, standing and feeling the forming bump on the back of his head.

"Hmm, guess that means I still have time for breakfast," he said, clutching his rumbling stomach.

"Yeah, I suppose so. But if you're not finished by the time I leave, I'm going without you and you'll have to walk on your first day," his brother retorted, heading into the bathroom.

He rolled his eyes and went downstairs for breakfast. Entering the living room, he saw his father asleep in the recliner, having collapsed there last night, not three feet from the TV.

The screen was still on, softly emitting the morning news. He tiptoed to his father's chair and delicately retrieved the remote from its arm. He aimed it at the screen to switch it off but before he could—

"Breaking news from the White House tonight: the President alleges that Russia has invaded Lithuania. This morning, the President delivered a speech on the White House steps, asserting that the U.S. must intervene following the invasion of a NATO member country. President Biden has declared a state of emergency in Texas, Illinois, California, and Washington. We will bring you more on this story soon," stated the news anchor, smiling for the cameras.

"It's the same story as last night; oddly, they're not in the studio this morning," he mumbled to himself before switching off the TV. He shrugged and proceeded to the kitchen, where his twin sister Amanda greeted him.