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Excerpt from Otherworld: Volume One

Cluck. Jo looked down, one foot raised. Underneath sat an orange and white chicken. It tilted its head at Jo’s foot, blinked beady black eyes, and clucked again. 

         “Is that-”

         “Roast!” A deep voice called. Surprisingly, the chicken answered. It flapped its wings as it went running down the path. The chicken named Roast squeezed between two fence posts to dutifully return to its owner. 

         “Sorry, we’re just passing through,” Jo called to him. 

         He put his hands to his pointed phyrra ears and yelled, “What?” 

         Jo walked closer. “We’re just passing!”

         “Oh, well welcome. I’m Kho, this is Roast.” Taller than most phyrra, Kho was only a couple inches shorter than herself. He had sandy chin length hair, honey colored skin, and dark freckles dotting his face. A wispy beard decorated his chin and jaw. His clothes were dirty and patched over, and his hands were closed around a pitchfork that he set to the side to scoop up Roast. Kho lifted the chicken’s wing gently, waving it up and down. 

         “Hm,” Maven grunted over Jo’s shoulder. “Never seen that before.”

         “Her brother Toast should be around here somewhere.” Kho looked around the yard, shading his eyes against the sun. 

         “Toast,” Lola echoed over Jo’s shoulder. 

Cluck.

A brown and black chicken looked up at Lola from behind her. Toast drew back his head and pecked at Lola’s ankles with all his might. When she shrieked, Jo had to cover her mouth to avoid laughing. Not everyone else on the team had the same courtesy.  Kho looked between them.  “Where are you all… from?” 

“We’re… well…” Jo trailed off, unsure how much to share with this random farmer. 

“We’re headed from Lekonis,” said Lola carefully, “towards Ipbo. We hear they’re debuting airboats for the holiday.” 

Kho looked between Glade sweeping their tail behind them to ward off attacks from Toast, and Iila, who was trying on her most winning, and most terrifying, grin. “Alright then.”

The sun beat hot on the farm. Animals were sheltering under woven awnings and lapping at water gratefully. Jo thought about her own empty canister. “Would you by chance have water for some friendly passersby?” 

Kho looked apprehensively at the weapons at their belts and slung across their backs. He shrugged and waved them forward. “Thought you wouldn’t ask.” He didn’t sound happy; in fact, Kho’s voice was trembling.

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People in Dark Academia.

The ones who stay up late at night to finish their favourite books, fingers tracing the lines as they whisper the words. The ones who strut the hallways with their head high as if the world was buring behind them. The ones who write in the dark, tears rolling down their cheeks because oh, they feel too much.

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“Mine the long night The secret place Where lovers meet In long embrace In purple dark In silvered kiss Forget the world And grasp your bliss” - A.S. Byatt, Possession

manifesting finding a hand written note in the next book you read 📚

Albert Camus