The Inkling Volume 2

Hometown- Cha
I’ve had glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling for as long as I can remember. Their pale gr
leading my imagination down a mountainous trail straight out of a fantasy novel. They roo
and I’m calm.
At six a.m. my alarm goes off. The mellow tones of whatever vaguely indie album I’m into
morning still feels like night. Rubbing my eyes, I heave myself into a sitting position and g
sound of an air-raid siren would look like. I blink furiously, and then get up to face the winte
Two hours later, I’m sat hunched over my knees in the kitchen. My fingers pick at the chipp
dles in December. Slouched underneath my biggest jumper, I’m still cold. I stare emptily in
eyes.
“I’m sorry, babe, but this just isn’t working,” croons some fresh-faced teenage heartthrob
doze off as some face-off starts on the screen. For a moment, I let my mind wander and im
no idea what was going on- interns really do get told nothing. The London offices were so c
ally. I let myself smile as I remember the early starts back then: the guitars that wake me no
Four p.m brings a shrieking like nothing I’ve heard before. I hear the familiar click of a key
shorter than anything I’ve ever owned. My housemate, Eva, stands in the centre of them all
“It’s time for you to get out of this house for once!” she yells, voice cracking with laughter. A
“I’d really rather -” I begin, but Eva is having none of it.
“Addie,you live in the wildest city in Europe and you’re nearly nineteen. Isn’t it time you got
I shake my head violently and get up to hide in my room only to be immediately pulled back
Amsterdam is a city dealing with a nightly earthquake. The baritone hum of bass synthesiz
Shivering, I pull the faux fur shawl Eva found for me over my shoulders and hobble after the
their parties and concerts for all to see. My hair whips around my cheeks as I clench my fi
ing; no crying.
Every neon-painted wall of the room we enter is home to people of all ages, all genders…
flashing bowtie. Next to them is a woman who looks to be at least fifty in a full velvet maxi d
the room presents the same eclectic selection of dancers, all clutching brightly-coloured d
can touch the pressing sounds of Dutch hip-hop, radiating out in waves from the DJ’s glow
attempt at the wailing vocals of the lady on the track. Sighing, I let myself join in.
When it feels like time no longer exists and I can’t feel my feet, we stumble to the exit, still y
the faint noise of someone calling my name.
“Yeah? What?” I shout across the room, unable to spot the source of the cry.
Before I can find the speaker, a screen above the DJ’s table flashes up a number, but only l
“Nineteen!” I yell to the girls, before tripping over my heels and crashing to the floor.
By the time I’ve regained my balance, Eva and her friends are nowhere to be seen. I limp o
barely remember). The cold, which earlier was just a mildly uncomfortable breeze, is now g
ble.
It’s then that I hear my name called again. This time, I know where it’s coming from. I follow
of a figure fifty metres ahead. When I finally get closer to the figure, I follow them turn do
Empty, that is, except for the figure, who now stand inches from my face.