Every story has a moment before it truly begins. The breath you take before delving into a whole new world.
This is an extract from the opening chapter of Brooke Scarlett's latest Fantasy Adventure. It is the first glimpse into a story, where dragons exist and it is up to a small group of brave teenagers to protect them.
Consider this your invitation into the world of the book. The story starts here.
Reuben Breneger is kind of a loner. So, when he finds himself with time on his hands trying to procrastinate for his final exams, he stumbles upon a discovery.
Prologue
The clock struck twelve. And yet Jenkins remained the same, didn’t lose his glass slipper and his mother’s car didn’t turn back into a pumpkin. Nothing. He looked down at the book in his hand, some stupid Cinderella retelling he had confiscated from a student that day at school. Scoffing, Jenkins tossed the useless book into the bin at the entrance of the desolate airport.
The airport hummed quietly, the lack of activity practically a sound in and of itself. No planes took off or landed, no, the airport was thoroughly abandoned. By most people, that is. Jenkins stuck his key in and twisted, the rust of the lock creaking in the stale night air. He once again locked the door behind him as he stepped into the frigid hallway of the abandoned airport, blank white tiles stretching ahead of him like some kind of haunted pathway. The whir of the coffee machine floated towards him and Jenkins grimaced, the closest to a smile you could get from him nowadays. He turned right and his eyes met with the barista barely visible behind the shiny machine.
The teenager’s eyes were sagging in an effort to keep them open and they yawned before asking, “The usual?”
Jenkins merely nodded and waited as the pimply-faced boy pressed a button and out came that glorious caffeine. A familiar warmth spread through the older man’s body as he took the cardboard cup handed to him, the coffee’s glorious smell wafting up to him and immediately making him feel better. Jenkins continued down the hallway, a murmured thanks thrown over his 13 shoulder to the barista. He took a long sip of the black coffee, savouring the burn on his tongue. Or, at least, pretending that he can drink hot drinks immediately after they were made and then realising, bitterly, that he can’t and spitting the boiling coffee into the nearest bin. Jenkins scowled and cupped his hands around the coffee as he waited for it to cool down a bit.
Unfortunately, it didn’t take Jenkins long to get to the Nesting Room. His face contorted, mouth pulling downwards as he shoved through the door. Rows upon rows of eggs stared back at him, varying in size and colour but, to Jenkins, they were all the same shade of boring.
“Hi, honey, I’m home,” he scowled before nudging the door shut and taking a seat in the corner of the room, the dingy fold out chair creaking beneath him. Jenkins took another sip of his coffee, a smaller sip this time. Mercifully, it had managed to cool down a bit. His eyes scanned across the rows of eggs, wondering what could possibly be growing in them. Sure, they varied in size, but they were all pretty huge as far as eggs go. He supposed it would be fair to rule out the possibility of chickens. All Jenkins knew was that he was getting paid more to sit here and watch this room of eggs than he was getting for subbing a bunch of high school classes. That didn’t make it any less boring, though.
Actually, Jenkins had first heard about the position from this woman at his regular Pilates class. He could still remember the day she first joined. He had been waiting outside the building, yoga mat in hand, trying to get some guy from the class to stop talking to him, when there she was. She had waltzed towards them, blonde hair tied loosely at the nape of her neck and the vague smell of rose petals surrounded her presence. It was safe to say, Jenkins was in love. Or at least, he thought so.
“Sorry,” she had smiled at him, “do you know what time this building opens? There’s supposed to be Pilates here but I’m beginning to worry that I’ve got the wrong place.”
She laughed and Jenkins fought not to go mute.
“Yep!” he chuckled nervously, lifting up his yoga mat. “Someone’ll come unlock the door soon for us.”
“Perfect! Thank you so much.”
“Jenkins. Uh, Stephen Jenkins,” he’d said, hand sticking out abruptly.
But she merely smiled and shook his hand. “Melissa.”
Eventually, the job had just come up in the super casual, super flirty conversations that they definitely had every day and Jenkins figured this was her way of saying she wanted to spend more time with him.
It was not.
Melissa didn’t work here. Or, if she did, she never worked at the same time as Jenkins. In fact, apart from the guards and that teenage barista boy, Jenkins was beginning to suspect he might be the only one that actually worked at this abandoned airport. Perhaps this was all just an elaborate prank. Although, he couldn’t quite think of anyone who might actually care enough to play a prank on him. The only person he really talked to was his sister and that was still only a few months ago at his mother’s will reading. Oh! Actually, Jenkins had his cat. His stupid cat that needed stupid medication every three days. But at least he could talk to his cat. His cat wouldn’t play a prank on him though, it was too sick. And a cat.
This job was turning Jenkins insane. He huffed and rose from the chair, his foot catching on its leg and causing him to grimace as it clattered to the floor. “I’ll deal with that when I get back.”
For now, Jenkins needed to piss.
*
The cool water rushed over Jenkins’ fingertips, washing the soap down the drain. He shook his hands off and with a sigh, headed back to that blasted room. To make matters worse, the guards made sure you locked your phone in some metal box as soon as you arrived so you wouldn’t share pictures or whatever. When Jenkins had first started working here, he thought he’d be fine, he’d just be able to play Candy Crush for a couple of hours and get paid for it. But no, no one cared that Stephen Jenkins was bored. He wasn’t even sure why they hired him. Surely one of the guards could just do it? But for some reason, they wanted some shmuck off the street to come and watch a bunch of unhatched eggs and write down if something changed or the eggs hatched.
Jenkins wondered blankly whether if whatever hatched from the egg would eat him. That would certainly cure his boredom. In a way.
Frowning, Jenkins slowed his pace and crept cautiously towards the door. Muffled giggles and whispered shouts echoed towards him and his frown burrowed deeper. Who was in there? Why? The door burst open, almost smashing Jenkins’ face in. He stumbled backwards and glanced up at what appeared to be a teenage boy, tousled light brown hair falling in front of his eyes. The boy blew the hair out of his face as he locked eyes with Jenkins and that was when Jenkins noticed what the boy was holding. An egg. An egg!
The giggles stopped abruptly and horrified, Jenkins’ eyes dragged to behind the boy where a line of four other teenagers 16 had stopped in a haphazard line behind the first, each holding an egg in their arms.
What the hell?
“Hey! What are you doing, put those back!” Jenkins commanded.
The boy at the front swallowed and without breaking Jenkins’ gaze, yelled, “Run!”
