The Thing That Perches in the Soul

Chapter One

                                 PART ONE: CHAPTER ONE

'Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul- and sings the tunes without the words- and never stops at all'

                            -Emily Dickenson

    As you take in these words, through your mind's eye, float through the vast emptiness of space. Float on and on, through miles and miles of endless oblivion, with only the far off stars to light your way, and even they are dimmed. Suddenly, there comes into sight, a galaxy. Milky rings encompass hundreds of solar systems, all smaller than the tip of a pin. You are focusing in on one in particular. It is on the edge of the rings of stars and debris. Now you see the solar system you have been looking for.

    Focus even further down, onto one particular planet, orbiting lethargically around it's sun-star. Here it is known as The World. No special name, just The World. All the great thinkers in this world were born long after it was created, so the provisional name just stuck. Witches and Wizards, goblins and ghouls, werewolves and vampires. Every species you could think of still roams the face of The World. This is a world in which magic still exists. A world in which Hope has not yet been lost...

    Felicity Hope sighed dramatically as she slowly turned what seemed like an enormous wheel. Sparks of purple arched from the wheel, ran along a metal wire, and up through the dirt ceiling. A loud, nasally and generally unplesant voice reverberated through the long, lonely hall, occupied only by the young woman monotonously continuing to spin the creaking wheel.

    "Keep cranking, Ladies." the voice was obnoxiously peppy, as if the speaker was attempting to sound cheerful, but wasn't having much luck. "Remember, social hour is coming up, so don't stop cranking! It is 3:15 a.m. I -he he- hope to see you soon! Have a good spin!" Felicity sighed again and blew an errant strand of golden hair out of her face. Strangely, as the hair floated back down, it caught the light and flickered purple, just like the sparks, which still arched energetically from the wheel. 

    "Why can't we ever leave this dusty room for more than an hour?" she wondered, practically whining to herself. "This is so boring! What could possibly be so terrible about leaving? What's so bad about the world outside." 

    Because she was a Hope, Felicity had never left that long, dismal hall. She was born there, raised there and now her mother was retired, she worked there too, alone. It is the sad fate of a Hope to be trapped underground forever.

    The job of a Hope, though is very crucial to the survival of any nation. While they sit, turning their wheels, day in and day out, they generate more than just colorful sparks. The sparks created by a Hope are unique to each Cranker. Though it may seem that they are only little sparks of light, they are much, much more. They are pure hope. It may seem odd, but these creatures truly do create hope out of thin air. Keep in mind, magic still exists here. The hope they make is sent to the surface by means of metal pipes and ferried to all those in need. No one knows about Hopes, so no one acknowleges all the work they do. Little did Felicity know how important she would actually turn out to be.

    For days, Felicity had been planning and thinking about how to escape from the hall. During social hour each day, she would check doors and halls for possible routes: attempting to become acquainted with her surroundings while still being discreet. It was not that she was mistreated. She received three good meals a day. She was released every day into the main hall for social hour. But recently, she had noticed that her sparks were dimming and it took significantly more effort to produce the same amount of spark. The physician had come in response to her complaint, but found nothing out of the ordinary. That was when Felicity decided. "I have to leave. I have no hope left so how can I be expected to make any? A Hope is able to make her hope because of the amount of hope she has inside her, right? Maybe, just maybe, I am running out. I need to leave. I need the world to give me hope now!" And it was decided, there seemed no other possible solution.