blade of avalon

1

Two minutes to landing my ass.

When we hit the concrete with a bang I almost resigned my dignity to the devil and clapped like a dumbass. Fortunately, I was still afraid that if I moved anything other than my fingers and toes I would lose the contents of my stomach and perhaps my spleen in the process. By the time we had arrived into the thorough customs system, my stomach had stopped rolling enough to allow me confidence to open my mouth.

"Really, Mum, those drugs are weird. I'm grateful that they make me sleep and all, but I have the craziest dreams."

"Well to be fair, Thea, you took enough of that stuff to knock out a cow— oh wait— no I see now."

I didn't have the energy to punch my brother, but the look I sent him ought to have done it for me. My father caught this look and laughed, pleased to not be on the receiving end of an expression that promised war.

Customs was tedious. I had heard that this particular city preferred to be careful about the goods and people they received: no criminals of any kind, no dirty substances or illegal import of any kind, take your shoes off at the door, that sort of thing. I counted the minutes, feeling exhausted despite the heavy sleep on the plane and the paling skies outside as dawn kissed the day into existence. Looks like jet lag is gonna be a pain in the a-double-s. At least there is no rush to get out and about, what with a little under a month until school started. Although, confession time: I was quite excited to see what school would be like in a different country. Sue me. Actually don't, I'm broke.

The entire family, all four of us, perked a little at the sight of the train icon pointing towards some stairs. It meant that soon we would be out of the glass and steel maze of an airport, and soon we would be in our new home. The subway from the airport was a modern looking thing, recently updated in response to the city's constant place in the public eye and eternal stream of tourists and new citizens. The transport seemed neat and fast, and the train itself turned up on the dot. We stumbled through the automated doors with our large bags, one hefty suitcase each, and found seats as we pulled out of the underground airport station. Our eyes competed against dinner plates in diameter when the vehicle sudden left the underground through a tunnel and smoothly run along the ground level of the outside world that is the city, before climbing even higher onto a bridge.

The famed cityscape of Avalon rolled out around us like grey mist, spotted with tiny sparks of the glinting rising sunlight off glass and metal. The founders of the city may be as modest as they like, everyone knows why they named it Avalon. Avalon is paradise, and so is this city. There was a faint shine in the distance, steadily growing closer as the train approached, that was the harbour, where trading ships and war boats alike settled to stay a while. This branched off to snake through the buildings in the form of the Styx River, a hilarious joke of an irony— the river of Hell weaving its way through paradise. Avalon had overtaken all other cities in the US to become the favourite destination, with their cleanliness laws, amazing architecture and, let's just say, fascinating people.

Not to mention, they had jobs. My mother's to be specific. This promotion was worth the uprooting, the move from rural Australia to urban Avalon. My father was happy to finally pursue his baking career, my brother was stoked to expand on his basketball dreams, and I was happy to explore somewhere new. Somewhere different. There was a fire escape outside my promised bedroom window, which I could fill with plants. Hopefully my little garden will be enough to hinder the home sickness. For as much as I love travelling and exploring cities, I also find a point where I long for the simple, beautiful country. You can take a girl out of the country, but you can't stop her from growing the country outside her window to try and subdue the pain of the country inside her, right?