I’m beginning a novel….thoughts?

Chapter 1

Jude stared out the window of his family’s small four-room house, he could see the cold that covered his whole world. They lived in a city trapped beneath a solid sheet of thick ice. Everything was coated in ice. The houses provided a bit of warmth but most of the time he was shivering. Even after living on the ice his entire life,  Jude never could get used to the cold. Or the dark. Everything would get turned off after a couple of hours and the street lamps and candles were on to conserve energy.  Jude was nearly eighteen but couldn’t get over the panic he felt when everything slowly went out. It was a helpless feeling that would creep into his bones and would sink into his soul.

He sat in his dimly lit bedroom that he shared with his younger brother Atticus, trying vainly to focus on the report that was due in three days. His teacher would be very cross if it wasn’t finished. He was supposed to write a story about making a leader. So far Jude had no idea what to write. It was his fault that he had to write it though. Since he was young, Jude had excelled in every writing class at school, and at the beginning of the year, his teachers had suggested putting him in an advanced class with more challenging assignments. The topic wasn’t that hard he thought originally but everything he wrote seemed stupid.

“Dad was a leader,” his mother had told him when he asked for help with his assignment.

He glanced around the bedroom to distract himself from his essay. A grey, fleece carpet covered the bare wood floors and gave a little warmth to the room. Other than that all they had was their bunkbed, a shared dresser, and Jude’s desk which had previously belonged to his father. Atticus kept all his belongings in a small tote underneath the bunk and Jude kept his in his desk. The walls brought a bit of color to the room with their shamrock paint.

Jude sighed. “I’m never going to finish with this.” He crumbled up his paper of sloppy handwriting holding random thoughts and threw it in his waste bin beside his desk. “Hey, Atticus!” Jude yelled.

“What?” Atticus yelled back from somewhere in the house.

“Get over here,” Jude called. He swiftly shoved his journal into his desk and stood to stretch, leaving the crumpled papers littering his desktop. He shifted his feet slightly, standing on his tiptoes, and reached his hands to touch the coarse ceiling. His hand felt the familiar plaster and a cold feeling shot through his fingers and traveled down his spine. The roof was permanently frozen over, Jude knew. He shivered and plopped back into his chair.
Atticus slid through the living room and appeared in their bedroom doorway wearing fuzzy blue socks, a heavy grey coat, and thick black trousers. He was of average height and had wide shoulders.  His face was well-defined and sharp, his eyes vivid green, and he had an unruly head of brown hair in desperate need of a haircut. His nose was pink from the crisp cold outside and his cheeks the same. Atticus gave him a goofy lopsided grin. “Yes??” He grabbed the support beam for the top bunk and swung himself onto the bottom bunk throwing his blanket across his shoulders in one brisk motion, beginning to fidget with the tassles on the end.

“I need to go to Evan’s, do you want to come with me?” Jude knew he hardly needed to ask.

Atticus jumped up, “Of course!” He was quickly out of the room finding his boots and satchel. His feet seemed to never stop moving. Atticus was always doing something and most of the time that involved him getting himself into trouble.

Jude rolled his eyes. “Ask Constance if she wants to come! I promised she could come next time we went.” Thirteen-year-old Constance was a middle child and the eldest of the girls. She had a sweet personality and a gentleness about her. She was also the spitting image of her mother; tall, long wavy blond hair, blue eyes, and rosy freckled cheeks.

Jude slipped on his boots from under his desk and crammed his journal and pen in his satchel before slinging it over his shoulder. He made sure to check that his appearance was neat and then headed to the family room that doubled as a kitchen. Jude took a seat on the sofa as he waited.

His mother came inside from the mushroom garden, bearing a basket of their blue oyster mushrooms. “Atticus said you’re going into town?’

Jude nodded. “Yeah.” He avoided making eye contact with her, instead staring down at the floor. He impatiently rubbed the top of his right boot with his left heel.

She handed him the basket taking only a handful of the mushrooms out. “Can you get some material to fix Zinnia’s coat?”

Jude frowned, taking the offered basket. “What happened to it?”

His mother shook her head, “Zinnia was playing in the icicle fields.” The same beat-down worn look came into her eyes that Jude had seen increasingly more over the past few weeks. Her face was seemingly drawn in lines of exhaustion all the time. He couldn’t help but pity her as much as he didn’t want to.

Groaning, Jude accepted the basket. “She needs to be more careful.” That was the third time that month that Zinnia had gone off to play in the icicle fields and ripped up her coat. Mom’s going to have a hard time trading for food these next couple of weeks.  Another thing for her to fret about. A surge worry fluttered in his gut. He wished there was something he could do to help her but he knew that unless he could bring their father back nothing would amount to anything.

Constance skipped into the room. She hugged her mother and came to Jude’s side, fidgeting with her zipper to get it to go up.

“Atticus!” Jude yelled. “Hurry up!”

Atticus quickly joined them and they headed out of their little cave ice home and down the south tunnel leading into town and further down branching off to old man Evan’s place. First, they’d go to Evan’s, Jude decided.

“Do you think Evan will have a story to tell us?” Atticus asked, bouncing down the slick icy tunnel.

Jude shrugged. “Once I ask him my question I’m sure it will take all of us to convince him to shut up.”

Atticus chuckled. “I hope it’s at least a good story.”
Jude looked at the icey downward slope ahead. The blue-grey sheet was dull and compact from the long years it had been walked upon. The ice roof was spotted with icicles hanging like sharp teeth in a beast’s mouth, pieces, and bits were broken off and smashed into the path like a battle had occurred between a poor traveler and this forbidding monster. The only light was their candle that Jude held and that lit only a bit ahead and the rest was pitch black dark. Jude’s foot slipped slightly. He quickly caught himself. “Be careful, you two, it’s slick!” He hollered.

Constance peered back over her shoulder and smirked. She grabbed a pair of skates their father had crafted for her out of her bag and sat on a pine tree stump to put them on her feet.

“She never listens when you say that,” Atticus laughed, grabbing out his pair of skates.

Jude rolled his eyes. “I  suppose it is faster,” he muttered. Jude sat himself down and replaced his boots for his skates. He watched Constance start across the ice, gliding effortlessly. She did a couple of twirls before turning to the boys with her hands on her hips, lips drawn together in a smile and her eyes shimmering with laughter. “Are you coming or not? It will be time for all the lights to go off by the time you slow pokes get to Evan’s.”

Laughing, Jude shook his head. “I’ll try and hurry it up.”

Atticus jumped up with his skates on,  “Wait up for me, Caz!”

Constance spun in a figure eight, winking back at her brother. “Catch up if you can.” She laughed and pushed ahead, brushing a spray of ice off the ground in her wake.

Jude hurried to catch up with them before they were skating in the dark. He glided swiftly downhill and the drafty cave air whooshed past his face. Every breath became a fleeting wisp that was quickly swallowed by the cold. Jude glanced further down the passage, it looked somehow welcoming and formidable all at once. He could finally see the lights of Main Street in the distance. He saw the side tunnel that would lead to Evan’s. Jude pushed himself alongside his siblings. They went left, away from Main Street.

The tunnel to Evan’s gradually became narrower and narrower till they were forced to remove their skates and walk single file behind each other. Panic crept into Jude’s bones as the space became smaller. Claustrophobia had always been something Jude struggled with ever since he was a small child. Constance crouched when the tunnel became no more than a large rabbit hole and slid through before she disappeared beyond that point out of sight over the hill. Atticus did the same, crawling through the allowed space.

It was Jude’s turn now. “Drats! This darn tunnel,” Jude spoke under his breath. He eased down and pressed his knees and hands onto the frozen sheet. He tossed the lantern down the hole, “Atticus, catch!” Without the light of the lantern, Jude felt his way through the hole. The ice felt like it was closing all around him, pressing him in, trapping him. He closed his eyes trying to focus on breathing steadily. He’d been through this countless times though it didn’t seem to matter.

When he emerged from the hole, Jude stood quickly, relief washing over him as a wave. He saw the light of Evan’s small cottage shining in front of them. The igloo surrounding Evan’s home was enormous. Looming icicles towered over their heads, threatening to fall at any given moment. The snow sheet in front of Evan’s home had been dug away and all that remained was a patch of frozen dirt. It didn’t look any better than the ice, and perhaps even worse. Evan’s home was painted a dusty blue color and lined with oak trim and crown molding. His windows were sheltered by his shudders. If one didn’t know how nice and cozy the house was inside one might be inclined to call the house haunted. Bits of the paint were tearing away and the dark blue ice creeping up every side of the house almost as if it were trying to suffocate it, gave you the feeling that this was a hostile place.

Jude rapped on the door and waited for Evan to answer. It seemed to take him a while but at last, Evan opened the door for them and ushered them in merrily. “Why, Children, what brings you here to see me today?” His eyes lit up with a strange and fatherly look that only seemed to belong to him. It was Evan’s look, Jude had said.

Atticus was the first to speak. “I need a story, Jude needs advice, and Caz is tagging along.” He grinned, throwing off his boots and falling into the comfort and warmth of Evan’s roomy sofa with a loud sigh. Atticus’s fingers felt around the arm of the couch finding a harmonica. He wasted no time in putting it to his lips proceeding to fill the room with an upbeat melodic tune.

Jude was hardly through the door. He smiled, embracing the old man. “Good to see you.”

“And you as well,” Evan replied. His voice itself was ringing with mirth.

Constance slipped onto the couch next to Atticus prompting him to play a song that Evan had taught him recently.

“What advice do you seek, Jude?” He peered into his eyes questioningly. He brought the boy into the kitchen space offering him a seat at the table across from him. The kitchen had a small fireplace for cooking, a tall oak cupboard, a white-painted table, and a freezer box. On top of the freezer box, Evan had a drawing that Constance had made for him. It was a very sloppy sketch of what Constance had imagined the sun and sky would look like based on Evan’s stories. The picture was the only decoration he had in the room save for a painting of a white rose, sitting on the mantle. He poured him a cup of tea from his steaming kettle sitting ready on the counter.

Jude inhaled a sip of the savory liquid, relishing the warm feeling it brought his body. “I have this assignment and I’m supposed to write this story about building up a leader and I don’t know what to do. I didn’t think it would be that hard. I thought about writing about the kings from before.” He would never forget when Evan told him how things used to be before the cold and darkness. There was light, sky, grass, and of course the sun. It sounded like a paradise. And the kings would rule without tyranny and the kingdom was glad for his leadership and rein.

He scrutinized Evan who was leaning back in his chair almost grimacing. His mouth was set in a hard line. He stroked his thin grey beard. Jude had never seen him so somber. “I don’t know.” He half shrugged, getting up and peering into a half-frozen wash tub to wash his porcelain dishes.

Jude stared at his back, disbelief rendered him frozen in place. “W-what? You’re not going to help me? Tell me a legend? Begin on one of your strange fables?” Jude blinked incredulously. “Evan?”

Evan appeared to ignore him. After a pause in which Jude heard his siblings creep up and spy on what was happening, Evan finally spoke. “Some things in life you must learn for yourself. Especially as you get older. All I can tell you is this, it all depends on what you call a leader. Some will say that a leader rules with a tight fist, others say that a leader must be advanced in years, and some say that leaders can only be born- among a broad spectrum of other things. It’s up to you to find out what the truth is then write your little adventure in light of that.”

Jude couldn’t place why the assignment felt so personal until he saw his father’s face pass through his mind’s eye.

Atticus whispered something indiscernible into Constance’s ear. Jude ignored them, continuing to analyze the man’s words. This was the shortest piece of advice that Jude had ever received from Evan.

“Your father was a leader.” He added at length.

Jude had known he would say that even before the worlds formed on Evan’s tongue. “But he’s gone, Evan!” Tears stung the corners of his eyes. Jude sniffled.

Instead of offering comfort, Evan turned back, a plate slipping from his fingers and dropping to the ground. His dulcet demeanor quickly contoured in anguish. He said nothing, just stared at the broken pieces on the ground trying to recover his composure.

Backing up slightly, Jude looked where Evan’s eyes were trained, horrified. “I’m sorry,” He croaked. Memories flashed through his mind. Tears slipped out of his eyes and his cheeks colored with a mix of anger and embarrassment. He felt his siblings’ gaze on him. Emotions seemed to swirl in his stomach making him nauseous. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered back at his siblings.

Constance, standing ridged, was crying softly, hands covering her eyes. Atticus was still for once, his expression and stance not hinting to his emotions.

He repeated that he was sorry more times than he could count. He recalled his father’s last breath like he was standing right next to him. Shuddering, Jude ran out of the house and stopped short of the small tunnel exit, crumbling to his knees. It had been three years since his father’s death but it still stung like the day it happened. The emptiness hadn’t been filled. Maybe will never be.

Evan came jogging out of the house towards him a moment later, face closed like a book. “Jude, I know how you’re feeling now. I truly am sorry.” He drew silent, lifting his hand and squeezing Jude’s shoulder. “Your father would be proud of you.”

Jude stared at the bleak snow, shivering. The simple words went to Jude’s soul and gave him a piece of solace. “I know.”

“Now what do you say if we go inside and convince your sister to make us those rolls she bakes so well.” Evan’s carefree smile returned once more. He got up, groaning at the effort, and made for the house.

Jude picked himself up out of the snow and followed behind him. He looked around and thought he saw a tuffet of fur sticking out from behind a spike of ice. When he glanced back again it was gone. A chill ran up Jude’s spine. He hurried to catch up with Evan.