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.
Finally, after four days of anticipation, Felicity thought she was ready to make her break. She had saved the bread and cheese from her dinner, along with a tomato from her lunch and the hard boiled egg from her breakfast. From her blanket, she had fashioned a knapsack with which to tote her food. Going over her mental checklist, Felicity looked down at her clothes. A faded purple gingham and a pair of purple slippers, which still shimmered as brightly as the day she was given them. She pursed her lips, which also had a faint hue of purple. "I guess this will have to do," she murmured. "I wonder what they wear up at the surface." Intrigued at the notion of the surface, she arched an eyebrow curiously. When she was sure that there was nothing that she had forgotten, Felicity steeled herself for departure.
She stood, hand hovering over the doorknob. Thankfully, the keepers of the Hopes never expected their obsequious little girls to attempt to escape.
"No one has ever done this before. I wonder if there is a reason for that after all." Felicity bit her lip nervously. She shook herself out of it. " No, I can do this. There is nothing to fear but fear itself," she told herself. Okay, she was ready. Cautiously, she turned the knob. It wasn't locked. She breathed a sigh of relief. Opening the door with precision, Felicity slipped out of the room and shut it behind her again. On a mouse's feet, Felicity crept down the hall way and into the main room. Closing her eyes, she called on her memory for a map. She located the door by which the copy room was accessed- the Hopes also have an accounting business on the side. How else are they going to get the money to feed the Crankers?
Felicity was jittery with the excitement of her escape. "Okay, which chute is it?" Felicity thought. She bent down to read the signs on the chutes. They read: Flannigin's Hall, The Palace, Countering Square Market (booth 931). "Ah ha!" Felicity stepped into Countering Square Market's tube and pressed the green button on which was written: GO.
Air zipped past her face. As she hurtled upward at an immense speed, Felicity felt her stomach drop, falling down to her feet. The wind was knocked out of her and she clung to the side of her clear plastic tube. The ground around her was only a brown blur. When Felicity looked up, far off in the distance- so far in fact that it was just the tiniest blip of light in her vision- was the sun, shimmering down the tube. Wind was coming stronger now that she was nearing the surface and her hair whipped around her face, stinging her lips and nose. Struggling for a breath, she spluttered out the hair that had been caught in her mouth. "How can they stand to do this every day?" she cried in her mind's voice to her mind's ear. "It's terrible!" It seemed to be speeding up even more now, pushing her slowly to the floor. "Oh why did I do this?! God help me."
Suddenly, there was a blinding flash of light, a jolt and Felicity was sprawled on the floor behind a booth. Dazed, Felicity sat up and rubbed the back of her head. It was then that she noticed the woman gazing down at her. Her face was old and wrinkly and freckled but it was easy to tell that she had been quite beautiful in her youth. steely grey hair was pulled back in a tight bun and a strange looking hat was placed precariously on her head. It was tall and pointed and as black as night- at least the night that Felicity was used to.
"Well, well, well," the old woman croaked, "who do we have here? You are not my usual accountant, are you?" Still in the daze of her (unusual) mode of transport, Felicity did not answer the old woman. She took in the candlelight glinting off crystal balls, rows of peculiar glass jars full of glimmering liquids. The dark canopy and exotic rugs gave the booth an altogether... hum, what was the word? Occuty? No that wasn't it. Croccult?
"Well, then, I guess you aren't in the mood for answering questions."
"Occult!" Felicity shouted then looked embarrassed at her random outburst. She clapped her hands over her mouth and shrunk down into the corner. For the first time, she noticed that the woman didn't look at all like the beings she was used to. Hopes, that is. Her ears were not pointed but were rounded and did not curve out at the top. Unlike Felicity and the other members of the Hope race, this strange woman had quite a plain face, which lacked the colored markings that adorned the face of Felicity and and her kind. The color of each specific marking corresponded with that of their sparks, so, since Felicity's sparks were purple, so were the curving, dotted lines twisting their way across her high cheekbones and slender chin.
The woman with the plain face and the strange hat was looking at her curiously. When Felicity had seemingly shaken the dazed look out of her eyes, the woman spoke. "You don't look like Tabatha. You are a Hope right? You look so different than the ones I've seen before. Those markings are strange. And your eyes!" she exclaimed as though she had just noticed them. "Why, I've never seen anything like it. It's as though purple lightning struck across them and left a shadow of itself."
"What's your name?" Felicity said abruptly, startling the woman. She cackled and Felicity wondered what was so funny. After she had recovered from the hilarity that had most defiantly passed right over Felicity's head, the woman answered her question. "My name is Hekaterine Casting. And if you were wondering, I am a witch." She said this as though Felicity should cower in fear or at least in awe if she couldn't manage fear. But she did none of what was expected from her. In fact she did quite the opposite. Felicity stared at Hekaterine, her expression bland. "Is that supposed to be some great and wonderful achievement?" Felicity wondered to herself. Out loud she said, "That is nice. I am a Hope, as you have already guessed." The witch humphed. She leaned back in her stool and crossed her arms over her ample torso. Felicity caught sight of bracelets and bangles on the witch's wrists and rings on her fingers. It was the first time she noticed the witch's dress. It was black as night, which was probably why Felicity hadn't seen her at first.
As Felicity gazed at the dress- she imagined she could see what the outsiders (Hopes who visit the outside world) called 'constellations' on the fabric now- the witch seemed to be contemplating something. Hekaterine stroked her chin and occasionally mumbled to herself. They were words Felicity couldn't quite hear, so she let her mind wander away. Her eyes followed and she gazed, enthralled, at the store around her. All her life, she had lived in a dank, dark cave of a hall. There were no windows, no carpets. The contents of her world consisted of Felicity, her dark wooden stool and her wheel. Wandering around the mysterious tent, Felicity stared in wonder at the thousands of nicknack's and potions. Crystal balls and dream catchers interwoven with tiny diamonds glittered as they caught the light when a young woman stepped in, letting a stray beam of light into the dark tent.
The young woman was quite pretty. A thick mass of curly chestnut hair fell in soft ringlets around her face. Felicity noticed that she too lacked the markings on her face, but unlike Hekaterine, she did have a splash of color behind her eyes and on her cheeks. Felicity goggled at the sleek black dress that fit loosely on the slender woman, making her seem even more contoured and stunning than she had seemed at first. With a condescending air of nonchalance, the beautiful woman dropped her purse on one of the cushioned stools set randomly throughout the room. She turned slowly and glowered at the starstruck Felicity.
"What are you?" she spat at Felicity. Speachless, Felicity opened and closed her mouth dumbly. The woman rolled her eyes disgustedly. "That's Hakaterine for you," she snarled with a smirk. "Always taking in ruffians no one wants." There was a cough from behind the counter and the woman whirled around. She seemed tense, as if there was somthing lurking behind her always. Hekatrine was staring intently at her and when she spoke, it was in a hoarse whisper.
"Do you know what Felicity is, Cassandra?" Hekaterine spat out the woman's name like it was some foul bile. Cassandra snarled slightly, an odd thing for a woman of her obvious social standing, thought Felicity. "I thought as much. Well, Miss Cassandra, Felicity here is a Hope. Yes that's right. Don't look so shocked. I see you have an idea of what Hopes do, but I am going to tell you again anyways. A Hope spends her whole life locked up in a tiny room. Do you know what she does in that room? Not you, Felicity. Well Miss Cassandra, she spins. But she doesn't just spin any old yarn or twine. She spins Hope. Yes, Hope pure and true and each Hope has a special kind she spins. The color is the same as her markings, but I won't bore you with the details. All in all, Miss Cassandra, Felicity powers this country, but not just that. Because Miss Cassandra, she does much more than that. Yes, she does much more than that. Miss Cassandra, she powers your life."