Images displayed themselves in my mind as though telling me what to write next. There was no rhyme or reason as to what came to me. Thoughts flowed through my body and thousands of ideas coursed through my veins. All the ideas and words were channeled to my fingers; the fingers in turn transformed the pure idea into a stabilized form of text. I called it the flow of imagination, and it was the very thing that kept my world’s strings strong and sturdy. The world of paper was my outlet, my escape, my confinement. My imagination was my power, and my weakness. Anything as simple as water could be bended and changed just by looking at it, but no one else ever saw. This was my own battle, my own struggle, my own fault.

The flow suddenly halted and the sensation of power from the ideas stopped. The period of writing flow ended, and left the idea open to adaptations that would increase the stories chances of success. I apple saved and closed the top of the laptop gently. Picking up the mechanical machine, I sprang up from my sitting position and breathed in the fresh morning air. The clean, crisp oxygen swept into my lungs and circulated throughout my body. The tree, I once was sitting under, sprang to life. Birds awoke from their slumber and circled the tree. Singing sweet melodies of spring, the birds and insects buzzing activity created a symphony of sounds. Suddenly, I found myself humming to their tune and twirling through the open field.

Landing in a heap, I flattened the healthy blades of grass beneath me. My cries of laughter seemed to echo throughout the air, and in turn vanished without a trace. The voice of a mere middle one was only heard for seconds at a time. Making it almost impossible to speak aloud in the form of a voice. I’ve only spoken few words in my short time on this planet, but the words I speak are wasted. No one hears this voice of mine; no one gives me the time of day; no one cares that I lay here upon this grass and waste my day away. Questions would always linger in my small feeble mind. Did I even have a voice? Am I really alive? Do I matter to this world? Brooding over concepts of things that would never help me in the long run. The world of paper heard my voice; the world of paper relied on my words to continue living. Without me the secret world would vanish, and only I would know of its existence. That was what kept me going. No matter how idiotic others thought it was; I would never give up my secret hideaway. I would never reveal the key to journeying there, and I would never betray the paper world for this world I was born into.

I tucked my laptop into my bag, that was still laying beside the tree trunk, and readied my conscience for the treacheries that laid ahead. Slinging the bag over my shoulder, I hesitantly headed towards the place I had to call home. The scenery changed from a beautiful field, on the outskirts of town, to an ugly machine city. The city was covered with rusted metal, twisted pipes, and chunks of old parts from previous inventions. It was a disturbing sight, and was a reminder of the last world war we were forced into. It signified the middle ones incapability to protect their homeland. In other words I was one of the blamed, one of the middle ones, one of the incapable, one of the worthless.

The middle ones are specially picked from esteemed families with an odd number of children. The one child that was unlucky enough to be born in the middle was forced to do the biding of The Circle of Seven. The Circle of Seven are the town’s healers, blessers, and oracles. They are praised by the people, but are only spoken of in hushed tones. The Seven saw all, and talking about them loudly brought their fury upon you. A force to be reckoned with, a force that needed to be dealt with. I am an outcast, an odd one, an unlucky. Of course I don’t call myself by those self-ridiculing names; I call myself by my true name, the one name that no one dares call me. I swore that as long as I was alive I wouldn’t let my voice be hidden and I wouldn’t let The Seven control my life.


The tall looming building stood in front of me, and I could feel a dark aura being emitted from it. I could feel eyes watching me as I slowly walked through the revolving door, but no matter what I thought of I couldn’t shake the feeling of the building watching my every move. As I took my first step into the pitch black room thousands of tiny lights shined down upon me. Wincing, I threw my hands in front of my eyes and fell to the floor in shock. Blobs, of greenish-blue, engraved themselves into my eyes and no matter where I looked the blobs hid objects from my sight. I heard footsteps echo off the walls around me. Someone was coming, and I got the feeling that me being blinded wasn’t a coincidence.

The footsteps grew louder and louder every second. I wanted to run, to hide, to live, but my body wasn’t obeying my commands. Before I knew it I felt a pair of eyes observing me, judging me. Removing my hands from my face, I looked in the general direction of where I heard the footsteps. The blobs prevented me from clearly seeing who was watching, but I could tell it was someone important just by looking at their shoes. The fact that I didn’t have shoes showed everyone that I was a middle one, and the fact that this being had golden shoes showed me that this person was important. Slowly the blobs on my eyes started to disperse, and my vision became crystal clear. It was not just any human being standing before me. He was a member of The Seven. My lips curled in disgust at the sight of him; he may have been dressed perfectly, and he may be of esteemed status, but he was one of the ones who took everything I had supposedly loved away from me. He was part of the people who took everything except the clothes on my back, my laptop, and my secret world of paper. I may have been able to keep things, but that day I was taken away from my family. That day I lost my family, and my pride.

“Number Seven, why do you return late?” His voice boomed loudly and angrily. It rang throughout my body and terrified me to the core. I froze and couldn’t empower the determination to move. “I said, Number Seven, why do you return late?” His shouting at me awakened the sadness within, and tears in turn threatened to flow. In a quick burst, I mustered up all my strength and spat on the ground in front of him. Cringing in disgust, he raised his hand and slammed it against my face. The force knocked me over, and sent me into a pile of rusted metal and shards of glass. “Know your place!” He bellowed at me before gripping my hair. He put his mouth towards my ear and spat out words, “You are worthless, junk, rubbish. Things like you don’t deserve to live. You’re not a human, you don’t even deserve to be called an outcast. You are a thing, and disposing of things like you takes no time at all.” He raised his body so he was standing, and at the same time yanked me upwards by my hair. “Don’t forget that I let you live.” Throwing me to the ground, he walked out the door and into the deserted city. The shining lights shut off the second the man journeyed out the door. Leaving me in complete darkness.

I attempted to hoist myself up, but the beating I had taken prevented me from moving. The agonizing pain shot up my limbs and torso to my head. Alarms went off within me as my brain sent out signals to every able organ or vessel. I wasn’t going to die, but the injuries I kept getting had stacked up. Stacked up to the point where the vital things in my body were in danger of malfunctioning. Slowly lowering my body all the way on to the floor, I spread myself out and tried to relax. Having a feeling of panic running amuck throughout my mind would make me lose sight of what I needed to do. Panic would make me act rashly and un-logically. In this type of situation I needed to get to my room and repair this cracked up doll of a body.

Taking deep breaths, I lifted myself up off the ground using my arms as support. Hugging the wall, I made my way over to the stairs at the end of the hallway. I could feel my body starting to power down. My heartbeat grew slower, my breaths grew quicker and uneven. I wouldn’t make it to the stairs with the shape I was in. There was an elevator, but I didn’t have access. Only The Seven had the code to get the elevator to work, and I wouldn’t know the code...would I? With the stairs still at the end of the never-ending hallway I decided to take my chances with the elevator, and hope that I wouldn’t be caught. Slowly, I punched the up arrow with my pointer finger. The button glowed a pale light as I pressed myself against the wall. Trying to blend in, I waited. The elevator box came to a rest as its doors slid apart. When I didn’t hear any noise coming from within the compartment I threw myself through the wide open doors.

Before I did anything, the elevator doors slammed shut as though they were a magnet. An electronic voice uttered, “Scanning...scanning...scanning...middle one detected!” The small square room glowed red and an alarm sounded. “Middle one, middle one, middle one detected!” Its voice rang throughout the confinement I had launched myself into. “Code required! Middle one detected, middle one detected!” The robotic voice shot through my body and pulled out the anger hidden within my heart.

“I’m not a middle one you stupid robot! My name’s...” The voice interrupted me and cried.

“Forgive my incapabilities oh powerful one of The Circle of Seven.” The robot had somehow confused itself; I wasn’t part of The Circle of Seven. I was just a lowly middle one anyways, so how did it hear my voice? “Codes have been changed due to irregular activity in sectors 94, 89, 25, and zero-seven. Please state code for verification.” The voice coming from the ceiling clicked off as though waiting for my answer. I stood there dumbstruck; I was mistaken as one of The Seven. I didn’t know what to do, and I didn’t know the code. That was when I heard another voice, and it was coming from the same spot as the other voice. It was then I realized I hadn’t done anything; the person on the other end was the one talking with the robot. I was caught in a plan laid out by another; once again I was completely helpless.

“The code is S94-892-5zs, verification ID number is 7.” The voice resonated and had a beautiful tone to it. It was clear that it belonged to a female, and that female was the head of The Circle of Seven since the robot talked so formally to her. With that the room returned to its normal color and launched itself downwards. My feet lifted off the ground and I felt myself experiencing zero-gravity. The launch didn’t help my wounds, and as I was being shot downwards in the elevator I could feel my breath stop. The heart in my body stopped beating, and my lungs became frozen. My brain yelled out to the organs that had fallen asleep, but, as though waiting its turn, the brain went to sleep just as fast as the others. The elevator jerked to a stop and I was slammed against the ground. The doors slid open and light shined down upon me. My eyelids quivered as they fought to stay open, but there was no use the brain that commanded it was asleep. Before my vision faded I saw a pair of golden shoes.

When my brain rebooted itself I was lying in a room, on a bed of clouds. The shards of glass had been pulled out of my skin and replaced with bandages. The gashes and cuts had been cleaned out, disinfected, and wrapped carefully with gauze. I was wearing a cream colored tank top and gray pajama shorts. My hair had been washed and was tied back into a ponytail. Someone had cleaned me up and fixed me. I had the strangest suspicion that the voice I heard in the elevator had something to do with it. Sliding my legs off of the bed, I walked towards the door that would lead out of this room. Reaching my hand out, I twisted the handle. Locked. Of course it’d be locked; I needed to find another way out. Looking at my surroundings, I noticed that my laptop had been placed beside the bed on a side table. On top of it was a letter addressed to me. It wasn’t addressed to my number name, but my real name. Sitting up straight and crossing my legs, I placed the letter in front of me. I couldn’t open it yet; I needed to sort things out in my head first.

My whole point of coming back, to this place that I was forced to call home, was to pack up my limited items and leave. I wanted to escape, but the reason I thought I came back was completely different than the true reason. I wanted to escape my confinement in the paper world. Always knowing what would happen, always being the operator of my life was dreadfully boring. I needed escape, I needed to face reality. Facing my past and confronting the present opened doorways of possibility. Now the future is knocking on all those doors. Waiting for me to open them. I snatched up the letter, tore the seal, and ripped it open.
Clementine Vi Augustine,
The seal has been broken. There is no going back to that paper world. Are you prepared to face the truth?

Signed,



The Circle of The Seven