Maverick (FCRAs Winner)

Amaranthine

Sorry for the delay - I have a few chapters being uploaded over the next few days so watch this space! Any feedback appreciated, thanks all!

Flying was truly liberating. Hannah soared as high as she dared surveyed the tower and emerging chaos beneath her. Her hair lay in a heap at the base of the tower; a golden mass of fabricated perfection. Fabricated. That was the problem. Turning, Hannah spied the glint of sun on water in the distance. The river. The only part of this godforsaken country that did not feel like it had been lifted from a picture book. Though that made sense, considering Amaranthine had been modelled on The Stories.

Gently gliding, she took in the landscape. It was even more eerily perfect from this height. The trees were perfectly circular and the most vibrant shade of green. All exactly the same shade. The same height. The same space apart. Not one leaf was on the ground to disturb the equally green grass, scattered with daisies, though looking closer even they were placed uniformly across the meadows. The houses were immaculate. The streets, perfect. Hannah couldn't remember a time when the sun was not shining and it did not feel the height of summer and bloom. She remembered something from school about something called a season, and how Old Earth used to have them because they had ideas and inventions that brought cold and wet times to people. They happened in different places and at different times because Old Earth was round. That was because of ideas too. Hannah couldn't imagine Amaranthine being round. How would the people on the bottom live, all upside down? Amaranthine being flat was one of the few things she appreciated. Despite the appealing climate, she couldn't help but feel curious about the concept of diverse weather. AmaranthineAmaranthine prided itself on equality for all, and that extended to country, climate and season, but things would surely be more interesting if there was a little more variety?

A shrill whistle made her swing round. The winged tower observers were gaining on her. Squinting, she made them out. They were waving their clipboards madly, waving for her to return. She recognised her father in the flying band. Her mother must have stayed behind. She never liked the clockwings, which added to her resentment of Hannah's now three failed attempts.

Don't fail me now, Hannah muttered to her makeshift creations as she positioned her body to be as streamlined as possible, before diving sharply towards the uniform trees. Speeding down, she felt the wind whip through her short hair and caress her liberated scalp. It was heavenly. Pulling up as she reached the leafy cover, she darted from trunk to trunk, marvelling at the agility of her carriers. In the last couple of weeks some new items had turned up in the junk room, and the addition of these had really helped. In particular, some red sinewy elastic-like material that responded to her every move, as though it was almost made for human interaction. It wasn't standard issue, and the observers with their traditional pure clockwings had lower speed and agility to deal with, along with being portly middle aged men. They stood no chance against Hannah. Ten minutes of tree hopping and they were left for dust.

Reaching the riverside, Hannah slowed to a gentle hum, settling herself in a large tree with branches craning over the water as if trying to escape She knew how they felt. The rituals, the torture, the madness of the world she lived in was just too much. The worst part was she seemed to be the only one who thought this. Everyone else was either complicit or wilfully blind. Not that this was unexpected. When you live in a world that has only shown you wrong and surpasses your imagination, labelling it as evil, how will you ever grasp a concept of 'right'?

It would only take a short flight. Over the river and into the woods. Sure, they are dangerous but Hannah only knew that from what the Royal Council told citizens, and they didn't exactly have a great track record in her books. Besides, she had her wings, and the woods couldn't last forever. She could just fly over them and explore the world beyond this freakish enforced perfection.

A sudden movement in the distance caught her eye. Hannah squinted. Was that...a person? Was there someone walking around over there? It was probably her imagination, but stranger things had happened today. It certainly looked like a person, dressed in white and striding confidently. Although, it could be a blossomed branch...it was a long way away and the light was fading. Still, maybe the woods are not so uninhabitable. Just a few steps and she could be free...

So lost in her thoughts, Hannah found herself stepping along the longest branch over the water, the rosy sunset shining through her wings making them glow a blood red. It was only then she noticed the gentle hum from her bespoke transport was no longer gentle, but erratic and spluttering.

"Damn it!" Hannah grappled with the machine, pushing and prodding in an attempt to alleviate its untimely cough. A particularly loud splutter made her jump, and one of her feet no longer found branch, but air. With little elegance and no grace, Hannah tumbled headfirst into the river, followed by her broken creation.

The shock and cold almost rendered her unconscious. Coming to her senses, she floated up to the surface to be greeted by several winged portly men hovering above her with clipboards. Hannah sighed and closed her eyes as the list of charges started. Mother was not going to be happy.