Although it was only five in the morning, Pigeon managed to rouse herself tiredly. She absolutely despised the fact that she had to get up two hours earlier than before. But when she took one quick glance at her ailing mother, she erased her thoughts. Pigeon put on her thin shawl and opened up the shutters. The blazing August heat immediately poured in. Even with this scorching weather, Pigeon's mother, Mrs. Trace, felt as if she was embedded into an iceberg on a frigid winter day in Antarctica. This was one of the many symptoms of the horrid disease that began in the end of July. No one knew where the disease came from or how it should be treated. Not even the most educated doctors in town knew the answer to this mystery.
Pigeon looked out far into the distance at the town of Dustview. Life was dull like dust, so the town surely deserves its name. Very few lights were lit unless it was necessary for pedestrians at night. Even all year round, the sun seemed to never shine its joy down at Dustview. The sky was always filled with deep gray clouds as if they were about to rain in a few moments. Pigeon lived in Dustview her entire life, so she was used to this grim scenery.
The morning fog waned away as clouds were revealed. The abandoned buildings stood still along the streets. It may have looked like no one lived in those buildings, but people did. Ever since Dustview was founded, the economy was weak and almost all townspeople had very little money, except for the Carmin family. You see, if they went to a classy city such as Richmond, Virginia, they wouldn't be considered rich; they would be middle class. But here, in this rock-bottom town, they are considered rich.
Mrs. Trace's breathing became uneasy and she finally awoke with a snoring sound. She woke up, a bit confused about where she was, and then began to shiver violently. With all her strength she had, she pulled up every quilt she owned and bundled herself up. She was still cold. Pigeon noticed this and boiled up about a gallon of water from the well. She soaked a towel in the water and gently placed it on her mother's face. Mrs. Trace groaned.
Pigeon was one of the few people who were born immuned to this disease. So many people advised her to take this as an advantage and care for her sick mother. How funny, all the excellent doctors were not born to be immuned to the illness and had to retire from their job. But some doctors told Pigeon what she should do at what times, and how to help her mother cure.
Pigeon was overwhelmed with work day by day. It was a good thing that the sickness passed through in the summer because she didn't have school. If she did, she would be in highschool and that would be difficult for her to care for her mother. She felt as if she was taking the place of a mother. But, she reminded herself that Mrs. Trace had raised her for fourteen years, and it was her turn to do the work. It was quite fair that way.
"How do you feel?" Pigeon asked softly, laying her hands on her mother's. Mrs. Trace hesitated and drowsily opened her eyes. Those deep blue eyes were always comforting. They brought a feeling of content to anyone's mind.
"Cold...tired...," she replied. She noticed the fear that was attacking Pigeon. "Don't worry...I'll be fine. I already feel a bit better." Even if Mrs. Trace said 'a bit better', Pigeon still knew that she wasn't telling the truth. Even when her mother was sick, she didn't want her daughter to worry. Pigeon bit her bottom lip and reached for the towel to soak in the hot water again. Exactly when she squeezed the water out from the towel, there was a knock on the door. If Mrs. Trace was nice and healthy, she would have offered to open it. But she had no choice. Pigeon opened the door to see the face of Ms. Pettington.
"Pigeon, my Pigeon," Mrs. Pettington said, hugging Pigeon tightly. "I haven't seen you in quite a while!"
Mrs. Pettington was the wife of Dr. Pettington, who was determined to find out more about the fever. He requested Mrs. Pettington to give the disease victims some advice to stay clean. Mrs. Pettington was a stout woman who was always in a good mood. She was so happy all the time that it sometimes annoyed Pigeon. Life wasn't always a dream, and Mrs. Pettington always acted like it was. Pigeon always wondered how someone could be so joyful even in the dull town of Dustview.
"Hello Mrs. Pettington," Pigeon said, taking a deep breath. "It's a pleasure to see you."
"It's a pleasure to see you, too," Mrs. Pettington replied. "How has your mother been? Is she getting better?"
"Yes, ma'am," Pigeon said. She stiffened up because that was a lie. Her mother hasn't changed for ten days in a row. "Actually, ma'am, she is still quite ill. Do you have any advice?"
"Well, my husband says you should dampen a cloth with hot water and keep her warm," she said. "And I know you have been doing that. Oh, and how can I forget, pile up every quilt you have on her body." Mrs. Pettington gave the exact same advice as she did last time. Pigeon nodded as Mrs. Pettington continued to talk.
"Make sure you give her the pill when you go to the blacksmith's building," Mrs. Pettington whispered. "She can't stand it without you by her side."
"Yes, of course, the pill," Pigeon agreed. The special pill allowed disease victims to fall asleep for about three hours in a row. After another short conversation, Mrs. Pettington said good-bye and left. Pigeon dressed in her blacksmith clothing. She stood beside her ill mother who was now breathing heavily. She gently pushed a pill down her throat and gave her some water. In moments, Mrs. Trace dozed off soundly. Pigeon brushed Mrs. Trace's hair from her forehead and kissed her. "Don't worry. I'll come back when you wake up."
Then, Pigeon rushed out of the door. She deeply inhaled the hot, dry air of Dustview. After realizing that she musn't waste her time, Pigeon started walking towards the blacksmith's building.
It wasn't really a place for blacksmith; here, people made bows and arrows, sharpened swords, and created other useful tools. Sir Riley, the man who owned the blacksmith's building, briefly talked about how they were for a future war. Pigeon didn't quite know about the war. She helped out in the building because there were valuable incentives, which were mostly food. You would be lucky to be given one loaf of bread. But since the food was dangerously scarce, Sir Riley mostly gave out a few stale saltine crackers and maybe a small portion of a carrot.
Pigeon felt quite silly in a blacksmith's building because mostly only boys worked there. In Dustview, it was mandatory for women to give birth to one girl, and one boy. Pigeon used to have an older brother, Redd, but he was killed in a traffic accident. Pigeon's father was probably still alive, but abandoned Mrs. Trace for another woman. Pigeon was different from many others. She was the only one to help support her 'family'. She was extremely depressed in the days in which she lost her brother and father, but she soon realized that she had to be strong and take both of their places.
When she arrived at the blacksmith's building, Pigeon was greeted by her best friend, Sparrow. When Sparrow's mother gave birth to him, she decided to name him something unique. Mrs. Trace, who was pregnant at that time, decided that she would like to name her child a bird as well. So she named Pigeon, well, Pigeon.
Sparrow was a boy, so he often teased Pigeon.
"Hey, Pigeon!" Sparrow shouted out. He was fifteen years old, one year older than Pigeon. A couple other familiar boys stood behind him.
"Is that your girlfriend? I always see her peekin' over your shoulder like a stalker," said one of the boys named Trent. Sparrow just let out a fake laugh, while Pigeon's face turned bright pink. She hated being taunted by annoying boys.
"I'm here to work and get food, not to be around foolish trolls," Pigeon hissed as she lay her knapsack on a chair. "I'm sick of you guys, you should know that."
"Well, you shouldn't even be here, you're a girl." A girl. Pigeon clenched her teeth, thinking of something else to say back. But Sparrow cut her off and brought up another topic.
"Where's Sir Riley?" he asked, looking around the empty building. "He's late today. It's odd, he's usually early."
Pigeon examined the building like she did every day. On the wooden walls, there hung bows and arrows, a few axes, and about ten guns that Sir Riley manufactured. Pigeon remembered the remark about a war that Sir Riley had mentioned. Was there really going to be a war? Pigeon gulped. The economy was already terrible, and a war would just make Dustview weaker. The boys didn't seem to care about Sir Riley's lateness. It wasn't too long after an old man emerged out of the shadows of the blacksmith's building.
"Why, hello, young workers," the old man said in a heavy voice. "I suppose you were expecting Sir Riley?"
"Yes," Pigeon and Sparrow said at once. They glanced at each other.
"Well, I am sad to announce that Sir Riley has been diagnosed with an odd disease that has been around lately. Have you heard?"
"My mom has it," Pigeon said. Everyone looked at her. "She's on the sleeping pill now. She'll wake up when I come home."
"Ah, I see," the old man. "Well, you can call me Mr. Franklin. I am hoping that Sir Riley will come back tomorrow, strong and healthy. Now, shall we begin our work?"
Pigeon found herself carving a bow and arrow, making sure they had a smooth texture. Mr. Franklin created the base of an axe the entire time. He was silent most of the time. Pigeon worked continuesly, telling herself that she will soon have food. The boys worked as well. There was an hour of silence until Mr. Franklin spoke up.
"There will be a war in a couple years," Mr. Franklin said, clearing his throat. "Poconoma, a country far away from Dustview, once shipped us fruit with poisonous spiders embedded underneath the peels." The boys and Pigeon looked up, quite interested about what Mr. Frankling was talking about. Pigeon, now in the state of shock, dropped her jaw. There was going to be a war. There was going to be a war. The thought struck her mind as she felt light-headed. A war.
"So," Mr. Franklin continued, "with all this evidence, there isn't much of a doubt that Poconoma sent this terrible disease through town. I mean, who else would it be?" He shook his head and sharpened a sword with one big 'slit' noise. "They send spiders, then they probably send disease."
Sparrow looked at Pigeon with an unsure face. After working, Mr. Franklin handed each of the workers an orange and two crackers. Pigeon started thinking about Poconoma. If they sent the disease, didn't they think of the revenge that they were about to receive? Aren't they smart enough to think about things ahead of time?
Sparrow followed Pigeon, who showed her extreme worries about the war, on the way home.
"Pige, who knows if we can trust this scrawny old man?" Sparrow asked. "He just came out of no where." Pigeon let out a laugh. "Seriously, he just emerged from the darkness."
"I'm not scared of him," Pigeon said. "I'm just scared about my future. And Mother. She's already as sick as a dog. War means bad economy. We'll give up all our remaning food up to the soldiers, and we'll die of hunger, and..." She put her hands on her head. "I don't know what to do."
"Relax, it's nothing," Sparrow reassured. But Pigeon wasn't sure if he was correct. Why should I believe him, she thought, he's just an immature boy.
Pigeon pushed open the house door and found Mother still sleeping. She spent the rest of the day soaking towels, giving baths, and working hard. The morning faded into afternoon, and the afternoon waned into evening. The sky was painted with splashes of red, orange, and yellow. The clouds still spotted the sky. As Pigeon walked towards her closet to change into her night gown, a faint tint of green was spotted on her bed in the corner of her eye. When she looked at her bed closer, the green faded away. I'm just imagining, she thought. She dressed into her gown.
Pigeon's vision grew blurry as she felt more drowsy with each step she took. She plunged onto her bed. Suddenly, Pigeon felt herself falling and falling deep below of where she was, but she didn't open her eyes. It was like she was falling down a long hole. She finally felt herself land gently on damp grass...?
Please Comment And Vote!! Sorry that this chapter was so short :(
Chapter 2 Will Soon Be Posted