• Unknown.

    What is a lie? Is it something we tell to keep away from something that hurts? Is something to say when we don’t really know? Or is something that hides the reality from us, to keep us in line, in order. Under control. Is a lie a gift, a way to keep those close to us safe? Or is it a curse? A curse that grows until the truth eventually ruptures. Until the truth is the only thing to say, because we know we have no more lies, no way to get out? But eventually the truth will be there, staring at us dead in the face, but only a wall of lies has been pulled over our eyes, making the world blind. And those who see the truth, are considered different, weird and out of control. And then, the lie takes those who see, either to break them, or permanently dispose of, we don’t know. Maybe the world as we know it, and the world we find in books, are more linked in ways we never thought of, because we’ve been told not to. Perhaps the truth is there, hiding within our selves, but to us right now, the truth is… unknown.


    1. Philosophy

    Being the new student in a different country with different customs isn’t the slightest bit easy when you’re somewhat “famous”. Everywhere I go, people are looking at me, like vultures upon I dieing calf, as if I where the worlds first alien encounter. But to them, I was an alien; I was different, from another world. And it sure felt that way.

    But something caught my eye. Something that wouldn’t be considered as jaw dropping as this. Well to me though.
    It was the school newspaper. Thankfully being in an international school, there was an English side to it. I read the headline a few times, trying to understand the words. I was reading but not really, reading, just staring at these few little words. Eventually it made sense. “Miley Chanesca. World saviour goes to school”. I didn’t like the term “world saviour”. It made me seem as If I were some sort of god. But I decided to read on. “ Living in wet and cold Alaska, at the age of fifteen, this young and talented scientist cracked the worlds energy problem. Whilst studying normal 3eme physics. She discovered how much energy our planet emits itself. And not just the planet, but everything. The energy known as IB (infa-blue) that was generated from a simple tree could power the whole of Cannes, Antibes and Valbonne, during the Christmas season, for 2 months. So our Miley Chanesca decided to build something that would capture and enhance this energy. Using her mothers’ microwave DVD player and a AA battery, she created the first ever IB enhancer. Ever since, all power plants have been turned into an IBE. And due to this, a smaller version was soon mounted to all electric cars giving them unlimited power.

    So the worlds saviour’s mother, Jane Cheneka” I noticed this small error and I pulled out a red permanent marker and encircled it. I read on “ soon decided to move to the warm sunny Mediterranean. Now living in a small village outside of Grasse, Miley decided to return to school. And now she studies here, in the Centre Internationale de Valbonne. Continued p2‡”
    I didn’t continue. Because I physically couldn’t. No wonder I was feeling alienated, because to them, I was. They’d probably still look at me the same if I wore the smallest miniskirt known to man kind and put a chiwawah on my head and sung “old camp town lady”. Though I wouldn’t do that.

    I hurried down to lunch. Which I asked a few people for directions, in return for a picture or two. I eventually could smell a familiar aroma. Fries, oh how I loathed for those fries. So I carefully but swiftly made my way down the large amount of steps down to the big building known as the AGORA. And as usual some unknown but kind guy opened the door for me, I found this increasingly annoying as my days went on. But I smiled and thanked him and carried on.
    That’s when I saw, the crowd. Knowing I’d be hassled I edged my unwilling feet forward. But I made it to the back of the line. And as usual, people stared, asked me questions in a language I didn’t understand. But I just wanted food. Food felt good right now.
    It seemed like three lifetimes until I got to the shiny red trays. Where there was a wide spread of small saucers of salads or boloni and things. I decided to take the prawn cocktail. It looked nice, next there was a wide selection of cheeses. I didn’t like cheese that much, except when it’s melted on some bread, so I took the typical Swiss cheese, and next came deserts. This order seemed disorientating, logically it’d go: starter, main, cheese (optional) then desert. But what the hey, it looked delicious, chocolate bun. I could envision my self drooling my self dry right now. But I didn’t, I think. Next was the main course. And as I thought, fries, with the odd cheeseburger, so a “stole” those and saw a bread selection bucket. Sesame seeds, my favourite, I took a handful and carried on my slow way to the cutlery station, and then there was the card swipers. I had to use a sort of credit card here, to count how many lunches I’ve eaten. I searched around for a small, and empty table. Thankfully I saw one by the window. A round, turquoise table surrounded by four wooden chairs. I sat closest to the window, it was nice to have the warm sun on my back. I ate mindlessly through my lunch, having a philosophical moment. As people watched me, I didn’t notice as I normally would.

    As I would, my mind drifted to some faraway place into the warm summer sun, gleaming with life. I found myself pondering the idea of what we’re told and what’s true about it. I tried it logically but my imagination invaded giving me thoughts of magic and demons. I chuckled my self awake, to see a boy in front of me. Well not really a boy, but not a man. Maybe same age as me maybe. His, brown, blond hair long and styled, swivelled side ways. His shimmering grass green eyes with a hint of mint and hazelnut. His voice was husky; it gave me the sense of mahogany for some reason. But at the same time it was, soothing and reassuring “you new here”.
    Hadn’t he seen the papers or the news reports? He seemed completely oblivious to who I was. It was strange, as if I were normal. It felt strange yet, I knew this was normal
    “Um… yeah I am, you can say.” His eyes, glued to my face, studying my features. I felt my self-blushing.
    -Are somewhat an artist in some way?
    How did he know this? I mean I’m known for my discovery but not my artwork.
    “Yeah, I am in some way, how’d you know?”
    He chuckled in a quiet, melodious way even. He pulled from behind him a stack of unorganised papers.
    - I just spent ten minutes picking up a load of your work off the floor in the main hallway, you didn’t seem to notice.”
    Okay, I could definitely feel my self blushing right now. “You really are talented, I liked this one though.” He showed me the drawing I did of a fairy, or water nymph, either two.
    “Oh thanks, um…it was just a doodle really. I was wondering, do you know me?

    -yeah, your that Miley Chanesca, A.K.A world saviour”
    He smiled a nice, but devilish grin. He swiftly and quietly pulled out the chair in front and swivelled around to sit right in front of me, so it seemed as if it were going to be a long conversation, but I didn’t mind

    “Oh, yeah you just seemed so… oblivious to who I was, like I was a normal person.

    -Well you are. In a way, aren’t we all?

    - I like that philosophy; I wish everyone else should think like that.

    -Ah but then, Brangelina wouldn’t exist if the world did, right?

    - Guess you’re right.”
    There was a prolonged silence; I was thinking something to say, until he spoke “you know, on the subject of your artwork, maybe these things do exist.” He held up one of my fantasy drawings.
    -What fairies and wizards and stuff?

    -Yeah maybe they exist already, but the government is saying otherwise, and books of this stuff are meant to keep us from thinking. Maybe magic really exists, and it’s all around us, we just don’t see it. Because of a lie, or lies.

    -You’ve thought about this quite a lot haven’t you?

    -Every so often.

    -Hmm… maybe you’re right. But hey if we knew, we’d be shot right.

    -Yeah, oh well, it’s that time. You’d better be off to class now, where do you have class?
    I dived into my bag; searching for my “carnet de correspondence” I looked on the back where I doodled my timetable onto it.

    - 805, Russian.

    - Ah same here, c’mon, I take you up.


    And so we spent an hour’s class together, he helped me with a few exercises, I’d learnt a bit of Russian when I was fourteen but I never caught up. So I daydreamed through that hour, more or less, admiring the permanent messages written on the tables by former students.
    When the bell went, I felt almost upset, I didn’t want to leave… damn I didn’t know his name, what was it? Did he even tell me, he knows me but I don’t know him, typical me.
    “Chris.”
    -Sorry?
    -Chris, my name, I forgot to tell you.
    Okay I now knew his name, Chris. I like Chris, it’s a nice name, it suits him as well. Chris.

    The day went by so fast I couldn’t remember what happened, but I was almost home when I caught a glimpse of our neighbour. He looked familiar. Again Chris!
    “Mile’s?” mile’s, I got a nickname? Wow.
    - Chris? What are you doing here?
    - I live here. What are you doing here?
    - I live there,” I pointed to the white luxurious, expensive house next to his, expensive house, but a bit smaller.
    “Wait, you live there? So you’re the newbies, wow, small world, hey if you want you can come over for dinner, or some other time maybe?
    - Maybe some other time, it’s a bit busy around mine so I’m going to help out a bit, but thanks,”
    My new home was quite large infect, it had big black, gates, aligned with beautiful swirling spears in a nice arc attached to two white pillars. In both, was placed two large marble lions with incredible detail.
    I walked up to the gates and rung the buzzer. The intercom cracked and my moms voice blurted out “entray!” with a slight girly giggle at the end. She was learning French quicker than I was. I trudged down the white gravel drive with a newly cut lawn on either side, and twenty meter’s or so there was a statue of a lion, and at the end of the drive was the six bedroom house, with four stories three bathrooms two lounges –and a partridge in a pear tree-. The sun was glowing a nice, warm summer orange.
    I stood there, watching the sun go down, it wasn’t too bright, it was a nice warm feeling on my figure. I closed my eyes and let the day pass threw my head. I faced the ember sky and eased my worries. But for now, I’ll just let my self fall into the unknown days to come.

























    2. Another day.

    I did not enjoy mornings well. If I ruled the world, I’d say mornings should be banished for all eternity. But, I’m not in that kind of position to do so –yet-. I always tend to dose off again after my alarm finished it’s infernal beeping. It left me time to wake up before the high-pitched tone began to loop again.
    My room wasn’t anything special. Just plain white walls, a giant wardrobe, and a drawer cabinet on the bedside. Then there’s my bed it-self, it wasn’t exactly a king size, no it was much bigger, and soft too, as if the mattress were made out of cloud. And the feather filled duvet was a very white pink, which over stretched the edges of the bed.
    My bedroom door swung open and there stood a drowsy thirty-five year old woman in a pink bathrobe and yellow bunny slippers. Typical mom.
    Behind her bed-woven hair, she gave me the look. Any human would respond the same way as I did. So I hopped out of my squishy heaven and immediately felt my hair was in all places.
    Disorientated, I moved to my wardrobe slowly, creaked open the door, to find my self in a room just shy of the same size as mine. And it was filled with cloths or boxes of cloths. I didn’t search for anything flashy, only a pair of jean mini shorts and billabong white T-shirt, I slung them over my arm and went into the shower room attached to the wardrobes left side.
    I liked the shower room, it was small, and, well, peaceful. if I could, I’d live in there.
    After my episode of hair untangling, gotten dressed and packed my bag for the day. I decided to look in the mirror for final checks. I wasn’t as pretty as most people would say I did. Well I thought that. My hair was lower shoulder blade long, wavy and professionally styled. And it was a nice shade of red, almost crimson, but a little more red with a few black streaks. I had a very unique and extremely rare eye colour for some odd reason. It was a cool shade of deep purple. No scientist has found out the reason why. Yet I liked its colour. But I was picked on before my breakthrough because of it.
    My figure was a healthy slim. Not a single kilo of fat on it and perfectly fine. It neither bleak nor extreme, it was me.
    I never liked stairs for some reason. So I always slid down the banister if I could, so I took a quick ride on the spiral banister to meet my mother, wide awake and organised. My mom is a very spectacular person. She had short, spiky hair that was the same colour as mine without the streaks. And she was a regular five-foot nine.
    She slid me across the white marble centre unit a bowl of muesli and a glass of orange juice along with my strange pills that I’ve been taking since I was little. They’re for my rare condition that controls my adrenaline levels. When I was small, my mom told me it was to stop my head from exploding.
    After I was done, I grabbed my bag and ran to the bus stop. Well ran wasn’t the word, I preferred free-running. When my invention became a world phenomenon. The crowd became unbearable so I taught my self to free-run, I enjoyed it too, and I met a few people that taught me a few tips and techniques.
    I knew that by ground, it was a three mile walk, but by rooftop it was a mile run, I hadn’t done this yet on the new terrain so this’ll be fun.
    When I run, it’s a feeling like no other. It’s as if I’m soaring, with the adrenaline pulsing through my body with every bound. And I really have progressed since back then. But my favourite part is what some runners call “the leap of faith”. When a runner will leap over the edge of a building and swan dive into a soft landing. Fortunately there was a skip full of mattresses seventy-five feet below, so I took the leap. And it was then that life seems to stop, when nothing else matters but the feeling of flight, with no hold to the ground for that short period of my life. I let my eyes close and leave my whole self to soar, spread eagled arms, and warm smile upon my face.
    And when eventually reach my falls end, when gravity takes back it’s hold of me to the ground, it becomes a completely new emotion.
    Using the spring from the landing. I bounced out of the skip into the alley. And by all the odds my bus was right at the end of the alleyway.

    By the time the bus had arrived at school my breathing had just about calmed down and my hair re-brushed. When I got off, there he was, Chris. Wearing nothing special. Just ripped jeans and a plain sleeveless T-shirt. His hair today, it seemed more shimmering and, well better today. It was more golden than yesterday and more Baywatch like for some reason.
    He greeted me with the most dazzling and purest smile I’ve ever known. It’s the only smile that’s made me feel as if, I were a normal teenager and I didn’t stick out in this world. This smile was so unique it was designed specifically for me I knew this for a fact almost. This was my smile.
    “So did you get everything packed away?” I was surprised he actually remembered from the last time we spoke.” Um… yeah almost. There’s still a few boxes left in my wardrobe to finish but that’s all really
    - Ok” there was an obnoxious silence that seemed to go on for eons.
    “ So. You ready for another day?”
    - As always”
    Against the odds, turns out that Chris is in my class and that we share every single class together. Heck if I’m not careful, the paparazzi might twist this as they always do