The Acryptus Tree Read online

  Adelaide was upstairs, in her room, tending to a daily tradition. For an hour each day, she would lie flat on her stomach across her bed, which was hewn from oak and covered with hand woven blankets. The walls of her room were painted crimson with assorted white lilies adorned above the doorway. As she lay there, contently, she would pull a worn old binder out from beneath the bed. Once placed in front of her, she would open it, gaze fondly at a loving inscription from her father, and enter the newest story her mind had created. The journal had been a gift from Bard after her acceptance into the Guild of Promise. She had been nominated for writing a poem that was still considered a best seller in Havendale. It was about a love-torn warrior named Arcado, a man of pride and stainless honor. His quest for glory had always trumped his desire for human companionship, but a woman soon entered his life. She was Wendolyn, a cold and manipulative villainess. Together, they had lived and loved for a summer while all the wars in the land subsided. It was not long, however, before Wendolyn became involved with a political official, leaving Arcado heartbroken. In a fit of anger, he joined a final campaign against her new lover and was swiftly decapitated. The poem ended with Wendolyn attempting to steal from the official and suffering the same fate. The last thing she saw before the axe cut down was Arcado’s face replacing those of everyone standing out in the crowd. She then closed her eyes, accepting her punishment, and whispered his name as death embraced her.

  Though tragic, risqué, and occasionally graphic in design, the poem had become a local sensation, earning her Guild induction. When asked who had inspired her, she referenced Jonah Longstreet, Amber’s most renowned and mysterious author, or “inkman” as they were often nicknamed. His countless novels, poems, limericks and short stories had charmed and encouraged thousands over the years. Adelaide had hoped to one day meet the treasured celebrity, but apart from hushed rumors and a few notable theories, no one had any evidence to suggest where the writer lived. His works had simply appeared across the land some years before, and all rejoiced in their discovery. Each one seemed to contain subtle messages of hope and inspiration, always pushing the reader to explore multiple theories and possibilities within. The richness and imaginative nature of his works fueled Adelaide to aspire to more than anyone in Havendale, including herself, believed it possible for her to attain. As far as she was concerned, Jonah Longstreet was undeniably the finest literary mastermind in the whole of creation, and she was unquestionably his greatest fan.

  By now, her journal was full of colorful short stories, a few poetic fragments, and a sentence here and there about anything that crossed her mind. Every paragraph, no matter how trivial, was the beginning of something remarkable.

  It wasn’t until her mother started knocking at the door that she finally laid down her pencil and looked up. “Addy? Adelaide?” Hattie called. “ What are you doing in there? We have twenty minutes before the Guild’s annual election. The mayor requested your presence specifically, as you are already aware, young lady. I do not approve of your laziness. You know how it makes me look. I swear you have your father’s….”

  Her mother’s voice faded as she picked up her pencil and continued writing.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The downstairs door slammed shut , breaking Adelaide’s focus on her journal. A low, harsh groan escaped her lips. If she had never been nominated and won that ridiculous sash, she might have been able to miss the election. Sadly this was not the case. Being a member of such a prestigious club limited how far back in the shadows one could stand.

  With an exaggerated sigh, she pushed herself off the bed and began picking out an outfit. She had to choose something proper, or her mother was sure to fuss. It was horribly embarrassing how far the woman could take a tantrum, especially in public.

  Adelaide had never been the “perfect daughter” Hattie always wanted. That was something she had only been to her father. Bard had always understood her, especially her creative mind. Since his death, Hattie had seemed more intent on turning her into someone else; someone her father had never demanded she be. If her mother wanted her to hurry to the Guild selection ceremony, then there was only one thing Adelaide could do. She decided that a few extra minutes preparing couldn’t hurt.

  After some deliberation, she selected a strapless teal dress with an egg white belt and grey cropped jacket. A comb was passed through her hair before she quickly slid on a pair of worn down running shoes. Wrapping her Guild sash around her arm, she begrudgingly made her way downstairs, stomping her feet on every step. Although she had always been mature for her age, it was difficult to act the part when dealing with a woman like her mother.

  There was no need to lock up the house. In Havendale, prices were affordable and kindness resided in every home. Crime, as a whole, was almost nonexistent. The village was, to those who knew it, the perfect place to live. Every building was cleaned daily. Windows were washed, walls were painted, and not a speck of dust could be found on the efficiently polished floors. Not a single citizen was above cleanliness, and helping one’s neighbor was a frequently performed ritual.

  As Adelaide walked briskly down the cobbled street, admiring the streamers and banners hoisted over her head, she heard the hasty footsteps of someone following her. She gasped amusedly as she turned to see Ronan. His pants were wrinkled, he’d forgotten to put on socks, and his hair was suffering from the worst case of bed-head she had ever seen. Adelaide shook her head as he finally caught up to her. Her older brother smirked and gave her a gentle shove.

  “I covered for you again,” she informed him. “You can’t keep this up without mom finding out.” “Come on, Addy, what is the big deal? I’ll be twenty four in a few weeks. I’m hardly a squirm anymore, you know. Everyone in Havendale gets their own place at eighteen, and I’m well past due. It’ll be your turn, now that I think of it. I’d be better off just packing up and moving in with Jolene.”

  “Ronan, she’s twelve years older than you.” He smiled and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, giving her a gentle squeeze. Adelaide wrinkled her nose as the faint trace of Jolene’s overwhelming perfume, “Sourbush No. 5”, struck her nostrils.

  “She is indeed, little sister, but I’m absolutely tossed over her. You’ll see, I promise. One day soon enough…some fellow is going to make you as winked as I am.”

  Adelaide scoffed and rolled her eyes. In eighteen years, she had never felt remotely tossed or winked about guys in Havendale. It seemed safe to assume that wouldn’t change anytime soon. The village was well stocked with eligible men, many of whom Hattie readily approved of. None of them, however, had made a staggering impression on her daughter. As far as Adelaide was concerned, her mother’s eagerness to see her married off only made the taste of being unattached more flavorful.

  The pair entered the village square just as the last seats were being filled. The three nominees could be seen in the distance, standing up on a makeshift platform before a handcrafted podium. The Mayor’s office stood directly behind it, towering high above its neighboring structures. The square, normally barren, was completely covered with chairs. They were placed side by side in rows with a slender walkway cutting through the middle. Everyone from the village could be seen sitting down, comfortably awaiting the upcoming commencement. From what Adelaide could see, there were only two empty chairs left in the whole assembly. One stood next to her mother Hattie, clearly reserved for Ronan. The other stood all the way up in the front row, where all Guild members were required to sit. She groaned as Ronan patted her shoulder and wished her luck before walking off to join their family. Lowered her eyes, she silently made her way towards the front.

  Every step felt infinite. Adelaide could feel the eyes of everyone in Havendale locked onto her as she slunk down the aisle. The thought of her mother’s glare burning a hole into the back of her head made her grimace. She knew she would suffer Hattie’s wrath after the ceremony. With any luck, she could avoid a public scene until after the party had subsided. Though Hattie Stokes enjoyed
her prosperous reputation, an open rebuking didn’t seem like something she would be afraid to pull. A shudder traveled down Adelaide’s spine as she finally reached the front row. Clearing her throat, she took her seat and gazed up at the three nominees standing nonchalantly before her.

  The one sitting closest to the podium stood out like a sore thumb; a thin, sickly thumb that hated everything and everyone around him. He had sad, lonely eyes, which clashed harshly with the proud expression stamped across his bony face. His skin was pasty white and his stringy butter colored hair was padded down with a slick, costly product. The three piece suit he wore was powdered and pressed, like something placed on a fresh corpse during a funeral display. Adelaide recognized him as Raoul King Jr. He was the sixteen year old son, and only child, of Havendale’s wealthiest landowner and businessman.

  The Kings were considered legitimate by many in their dealings around the area, but a large portion of their wealth was rumored to come from illegal productions. On the legal side, they had a province-wide enterprise mining and selling lorbs. In the past twenty years or so, however, a relatively harmless yet addictive substance known as “TOX” had surfaced. It was composed of small clumps of excess minerals found inside lorb quarries. The effects were fiercely intense and undeniably stimulating. The Kings were rumored to be its strongest peddlers.

  As for Raoul Jr, he was known throughout the village for being a loner and often a trial to tolerate in others’ company. It was possibly by pure accident, alone, that he had even found himself nominated for Guild membership. Four months earlier, an untamed horse had stampeded up and down the streets of Havendale, causing havoc and damages as it went. A young girl with a broken leg had been trapped in its path. Seconds before impact, however, she had been knocked out of harm’s way by none other than Raoul himself. This seemed unusual to Adelaide. All she truly recalled about the nominee was his aversion to touching anything or anyone, due to fears of contracting deadly germs. This phobia had resulted in him wearing blue latex gloves nearly everywhere he went. Many in Havendale had suggested that his heroic action was merely the result of him running into the poor girl while trying to save himself. Enough voters, however, had ultimately deemed him worthy of nomination. And so there he sat, up on the stage, wearing his fanciest suit and smugly looking down at the crowd before him.

  Adelaide had known the second nominee, Mimi Varrow, since childhood. Being the same age, the pair of them had, at one time, been almost inseparable. This had changed when, years ago, Hattie Stokes’s jealous nature had caused a blunt accusation against Mimi’s mother concerning Bard. Anyone with common sense could see that his loyalty rested with Hattie, but she disregarded the advice of her friends and ended her friendship with Mrs. Varrow on the grounds that she was too forward in Bard’s company. This had been something of a troublesome issue in Havendale. More than one rumor had circulated about what Hattie had done to raise Bard’s jealousy on the subject. The worst concerned Gable, whose slight genetic differences to his other siblings had been used as evidence to show that, perhaps, Mrs. Stokes had retaliated against her husband’s supposed infidelity with some of her own. Adelaide often wondered how her dad could have endured someone like her Hattie throughout his life.

  Mimi hadn’t changed much since their mothers’ dissolved friendship. Her dark, auburn hair was still voluminous and laced with shiny gold ribbons. She had the same dazzling eyes, plump cheeks, and sweet, tender smile. Always the rebel of fashion, her outfit was a tightly packed combination of tassels, polka dots, croqueted designs and eccentric logos. The Varrows were known as the sort of folk who didn’t let the latest clothing trends dictate how they chose to dress. One item in particular caught Adelaide’s attention: a shoelace bracelet tied loosely around Mimi’s right wrist. It was a meager gift given to her just days before Hattie’s final outburst. Adelaide smiled to know she had kept it.

  She then turned her gaze to the final candidate, whose name was Finn Wessel. He was a tall, well kept man, around twenty five years old. His physique was flawless, and confidence seemed to emulate from him without interference. Wild, ebony hair peaked over the top of his brazen forehead and slid unhindered down to the back of his neck. The unblemished nature of his oiled, sunbathed skin and preservation of a short, stylish beard were things only a truly dedicated individual could achieve. As far as Adelaide knew, he was unattached, but for how long no one could say. His bachelor moments were always fleeting. Some in the village even claimed he had an illness that kept him hungry for a woman’s touch. To all the damsels nearby, however, none of this seemed to matter. All they saw was his deep, piercing eyes, dangerous, smile, and flexible form. It was highly possible that these attributes were the only grounds for his nomination in the first place.

  Adelaide’s palms grew sweaty as her eyes slowly rolled along his hair and forehead, traveling down his resolute, hairy cheeks to his sharp, poignant chin. From there she studied the curve of his magnificent neck to the outline of his broad, powerful shoulders.

  “What the rot is this?” she thought, her mouth growing dry. “Am I sick or something?” These questions didn’t prevent her from moving her gaze southward, dropping from button to button of Finn’s freshly pressed white silk shirt. Once her eyes had reached the contours of his belt buckle, Adelaide blinked and forced herself to look away. Never in her lifetime had she been so enamored by someone. She couldn’t understand what made her want him so badly. Finn Wessel was seven years her senior. He had a foul reputation and seemed to take pleasure in the discomfort and bad fortune of others. Even so, Adelaide couldn’t control the ravenous craving rising up from her stomach, into her chest and flooding her brain. It was all she could do not to leap onto the stage and throw herself upon him, sending buttons flying across the stage as she exposed his noble, unshaved chest.

  The inte nsifying thoughts growing in Adelaide’s mind quickly dissipated as the doors to the mayor’s office swung open behind the platform. All eyes turned to behold a short, balding man in his early forties making his way onto the stage. He was Horatio Hare, the twenty-sixth mayor of Havendale. A hefty fellow, he managed to bear himself with notable charisma. Stepping up to the podium, he took a deep, lingering breath before raising his hands and yelling out at the top of his lungs.

  “Hello good and wonderful people of Havendale ! We have the honor….no the privilege, of living in the finest village ever to be built in this marvelous land. We live in a place where we grow and prosper as one great community.”

  The crowd of villagers applauded.

  “Makes you feel kind of special, doesn’t he?”

  This remark came from the Guild member sitting on Adelaide’s left. She turned her head and recognized him as Clayton Hogg; another one of Havendale’s emancipated young adults, almost two full years older than her. He had some impressive features: a head of wavy chestnut hair, charismatic green eyes and a sunny disposition. Adelaide casually glanced over his outfit and suppressed a giggle. He wore a pair of dusty trousers with hand-me-down suspenders. His shirt was shamrock green with fading brass buttons, barely visible under the leather duster that draped down to just above his knees. Adelaide’s amusement was finally given away by an uncontrollable smirk. She started to turn her face, but restrained the urge when she noticed his unwavering smile directed towards her. Clayton genuinely seemed not to care about her opinion of him. She found this greatly annoying.

  “If you please, good citizens,” Mayor Hare continued, waving his hands. “We must prepare for this year’s award ceremony, and the most fortunate nominee who will be today’s winner. Today, we have some excellent individuals of our wonderful little village up here with me who are not only members of its citizenry, but marvelous additions to our future as well. Now, even though only one will be added to our Guild’s inspiring long list of winners, I hope that each and every one of you knows, deep, deep, deep inside your hearts, that they are all winners, as is everyone sitting in the audience today. Together, you all make our village great
.”

  Every person in the crowd leapt to their feet, clapping their hands with unreserved enthusiasm. Mayor Hare smiled and gave a humble bow. As the villagers took their seats, he shuffled over to the three nominees and extended his hand towards the podium.

  Mimi Varrow was the first to go. She accepted a hug from the mayor along the way and blew out kisses to the audience as she moved along.

  “Isn’t she m arvelous? A true definition of promise, wouldn’t you all say?” Mayor Hare laughed. “Now could you please tell us your full name, young miss?”

  “ Certainly; my name is Mimieux Clemency Varrow.” “And I understand you go by Mimi, is that correct?” The nominee nodded.

  “Excellent,” Hare laughed. “I imagine you must be just a little bit excited about all this, eh Mimi?” “I’ll tell you after I win t hat Guild position, Mister Mayor.” “Oh you are just delightful. I could just gobble you up! Now please tell us, Mimi, in your own excellent words, why should you be chosen as this year’s Guild of Promise winner?”

  Mimi cleared her throat as she looked out across the audience. Her eyes rested briefly on Clayton Hogg, who smiled up at her. She blushed with obvious flattery and began her speech. In it she spoke of how she didn’t deserve to be nominated and thanked all those who supported her. This was an approach commonly used by yearly nominees in last minute attempts to gain respect and high regards from the viewing voters. She went on to say she was just an ordinary person trying her best to make a difference in the world. The crowd applauded generously as she wrapped up her dialogue and gave a pleasant curtsy.