Chapter 1. The Last Escape
It felt like late evening had enveloped everything around me like a thick cocoon on the other side of the window. And a park alley starting from the large metal gates and going all the way to the porch of this creepy castle with peaked towers; and a fountain with a stone gargoyle, which seemed to mock me, moving subtly as soon as I started to turn away from the window; and rare benches, unoccupied by anyone at this either late or early hour.
But all this simply could not happen!
Exactly twenty minutes ago, in the light of day, my mother and I entered the Ashwool city library, but it was as if we left it in the dead of night. The irritating light of the tall wrought-iron lamps made it possible to see a completely different long street with ancient Victorian houses instead of modern, barely rebuilt townhouses.
These buildings seem to have ended up here by accident. They seemed to come from another era. However, after just a few minutes of walking to the gates of the Midnight Academy, I realized that it was my mother and I who came from another era. Even, probably, from another world. Because in our world, carriages trimmed with carved wood have not been used for their intended purpose for a long time. Yes, I only saw these in photos on the Internet when I was writing another boring history report at school.
The clothes of the passers-by we met were also notable. A kind of nuclear mixture between modernity and the Middle Ages. I, in my denim overalls and white sneakers that matched the color of my T-shirt, looked at least strange against the background of women in baggy floor-length dresses or ladies who chose tight leather pants, high boots, a black corset and a simple raincoat with a deep hood for a late walk.
It seemed to me that I was simply dreaming! But I definitely didn't sleep. She stood in the gloomy darkened corridor of the academy on the second floor. Opposite me was a window, and to the left was one of the massive doors. Behind it was the office of the head of this educational institution.
Trying to isolate something important, she brazenly eavesdropped on her conversation with her mother. I honestly tried to get information in another way, but my mother always avoided uncomfortable questions, and more often she simply remained silent or angry, instantly turning the topic to something pressing: the mess in my room, bad grades at school, or my crappy diet.
Actually, school ended last year. I learned to clean the rooms I lived in myself. And I switched to proper nutrition, with an abundance of vegetables, berries, herbs and fruits. But she still didn’t answer my questions.
