Power Arena

Prologue Part 1: Compound Hemlock

      A bulb's weak flickering light enveloped the small bedroom like a seizure, waking Wren up in a daze as its electricity began to hum and crackle. Her drowsy heavy-lidded eyes lingered shortly on the hanging fixture with contempt, before drifting past it to glare enviously at her still sleeping siblings.

      Dylan, Wren's older sister had the ratty, plaid blanket they "shared" wrapped tightly across her torso and entangled in her long lanky legs. Even her head was covered by the sheets only a few strands of her bleached yellow hair escaping the cocoon, the cloth having been dragged far from Wren's side of the bed like every night.

    On the other hand, Wren's younger brother, Lake had unconsciously thrown his comforter to the floor in his sleep, his short pale limbs exposed and sprawled across his separate mattress limply; his tranquil face pressed flat against his pillow as if to suffocate himself.

     The Clarx siblings had shared this simple gray room, the size of a closet, for as long as Wren could remember. The only things residing in it being two twin mattresses laid out on the floor in a "T" formation, one short metallic dresser, and a shoe rack with three pairs of worn dark blue tennis shoes in varying sizes. It was elaborately practical just like their mother, only necessities and no silly business.

     Wren, used to her morning routine, sluggishly pulled herself up so she was standing on the mattress, carefully stretching up on her tiptoes as she turned the bulb's glass a few centimeters to the right till the flickering had stopped, causing a sigh of relief to fall from her lips.

Now to wake everyone up.

     Stepping down to the cold concrete floor as quietly as possible, Wren then preceded to yank away Dylan's blanket with a practiced quick jerk of her thin wrist, watching with satisfaction as her older teen sister hit the hard ground with a gasp of surprise.

     It was quiet for a moment like the calm before a storm, and Wren knew from experience to take advantage of that short breath of time.

    Leaping past her brother's undisturbed figure, she sped for the exit making it to the hallway with perfect form, before slamming the door behind her, just in time to hear the resounding smack of a heavy pillow hitting the other side followed by a familiar high-pitched shriek.

     Sorry, Lake. Wren thought guiltily, as she imagined his rude awakening.

     Quickly fleeing past her parents' empty bedroom, Wren made her way to the kitchen, only faltering when she accidentally stomped on her Uncle's limp hand.

"Fuc...Fudge." Uncle Zeke bellowed, barely managing to correct his wording as he noticed his tween niece's presence, switching between caressing his now injured hand and rubbing his sore back from where he had been asleep on the hard kitchen tile.

"Dawn already?" He asked with a groan, squinting up at Wren with unmistakably sarcasm, successfully causing Wren to feel less guilty about stomping on his fingers with her bare heel.

"Not quite." A strong singsong voice answered in her stead, causing Wren to turn around with a warm grin to see her grandmother stumbling into the kitchen. "Good morning, chickpea." Gran mumbled in greeting, her wrinkled fingers caressing a tin cup of her favorite apple cinnamon tea.

    Before Wren could greet her in return, a loud booming rattled the roof, causing dust to drift down onto their heads.

    "Guess the Fester boy is up, you'd think he'd be a bit calmer in the morning, but of course that isn't the case." Gran complained, staring with distaste at the layer of dust that had now settled in her tea. "What do his parents even feed him? Sugar rations are down, energy like his has got to be fueled by something." She pondered under her breath, amusement curling her frail lips as she took another sip of the now contaminated tea, no point in wasting her favorite morning beverage, considering it was a rare commodity.