The Imperitum

Chapter One

It was in a room full of inside-out clothes thrown carelessly to the floor and stacks of books in various corners where the seed of an adventure was planted. The room mirrored that of many teenagers with an inability to keep up a smooth conversation, and who preferred to remain somewhere where the only light was that of a laptop screen. It belonged to Natalie Spencer. Who, as you intelligent readers will have guessed, is the protagonist of the story you are reading. I know, young, teenage outcast – a rather predictable beginning.

But then again, sometimes the best stories are similar to the things we know, and whether the traits you have seen before jolt memories of your own life, or just a tale you have heard before, we appear to have set ourselves up for a rather stereotypical start.

The girl herself was a smart seventeen-year-old, one of those children who had always had a far deeper understanding than any child should. She had thick, dark-framed glasses on her nose, which was decorated with the kind of freckles you only noticed up close, and behind them were hazel eyes, not the kind that sparkled or hid secrets, though – they were just eyes. Her skin was pale and clearly hadn't seen the sun in a while, which could be due to the time spent locked away from society, or just living in England. Falling down her back was dark brown hair that either appeared straggly and unkempt or had that effortlessly gorgeous demeanour so many girls sought after. It was usually the first one.

All in all, Natalie had a quietly pretty appearance that many of her peers failed to notice. Not that she minded of course. In fact, Natalie could look in the mirror and point out countless flaws about herself in five minutes. It was shameful how much the universe had convinced us all that being good enough involved perfect skin and straight teeth accented by a flawless figure and an air of unbreakable confidence, none of which anyone can really say they have. Not without photoshop, anyway.

Currently leaning against her bedroom wall, Natalie's face was thrown out of proportion by the shadow her precious electronic screen cast on her face from a rather unflattering angle, and although this could be stopped by the simple act of flicking on a light switch, people such as Natalie Spencer had no time for such nonsense. As for what she was doing, well, let's just say that you wouldn't find your football-loving, handsome popular boy doing Natalie's preferred hobby.

She was, and I speak nothing but the truth, looking up conspiracy theories. Unusual and slightly obsessive, the girl spent more time than was healthy digging up stories from all over the world that people retold in wonder and disbelief. They ranged from aliens to killer, giant ants, and our protagonist couldn't get enough of them. She used this information to write a blog disproving every single one these tales of the ever-approaching apocalypse, or how the queen was actually a male serial killer from Mexico. It really was funny how the young geniuses of our generation had such good ways of throwing away their potential, wasn't it?

Just as Natalie snorted loudly at the article she was reading (Leading Labour Politician is a Soldier from the Future) there was a sharp knock on the front door. Not moving to open the door despite being home alone, the teen reached up and gently pushed her light switch, waiting the few seconds the bulb always took before flickering into a dim level of light. The bulb needed replacing – funny, since it was barely ever on.

Loud, uneven footsteps echoed up the stairs and came to a halt before Natalie's room. The person outside the door waited a second before opening the door, but when they did it was with one loud, dramatic movement. Natalie didn't flinch.

     "You're going to have to do better than that, Ben," she spoke calmly, not looking up from her screen, barely acknowledging the low-power light flashing dangerously in the corner of her keyboard.