Read The Shells Of Chanticleer for Free Online

ceiling so realistically that I couldn’t tell if it was a large photograph or the work of someone very artistic. I imagined I was at the Ritz – not that I ever had been. I liked how different Summer Hall was from the brown hallways in my home, and how I could walk safely without the need to avoid the vacant eyes of my dad’s dead animal family.
    I wondered, What is this coursework expected of me? Did they have my transcripts? If not, how would they know where to place me? I didn’t want to repeat any math. I arrived at Miss Clarice’s office easily. There were two large white double doors. I didn’t know whether to knock or go right in, but just as my raised knuckle was about to knock, they swung open.
    Miss Clarice sat facing me with her arms folded, resting on a substantial white painted desk. Behind her, panoramic windows looked out at the peculiar pink sky. The walls of her office were the deep blue of a moonless midnight and looked lush, like velvet to me. Even the ceiling was blue. All it needed were some yellow stars.
    “Come in, Macy, we have been waiting for you. Please have a seat.”
    She motioned to an oversized white velvet armchair that faced her desk. I was so nervous that I felt as if I was walking in slow motion as I made my way to the chair and sat up straight as I had been taught to do. I waited for her to speak. Miss Clarice was a patrician blonde, with hair straight and shiny, kind brown eyes, and the longest black eyelashes I had ever seen. She smiled at me with jarringly white teeth. I couldn’t help but like her immediately, not just because she was so pretty, but also because her voice was calming and soothed my nerves.
    “Well Macy,” she began, “I can imagine you have a lot of questions for me. It’s only natural. First off, let me assure you that you are in a safe place, but that you are not dreaming or imagining your experiences here.”
    “Am I dead from the splinter?”
    “No, you are not dead. Your body is right where you left it; you are nicely sedated, in a holding place. Suffice it to say that there are many levels of awareness in our worlds. You have been taken out of one level and brought here, merely a parallel level, on purpose. It is a benevolent world, although, as a word of warning, it may not always seem so.”
    “You said on purpose. What for?”
    “You are here because your stats are bad,” she said, taking a white file folder with a large C in the middle of it from a stack on her desk and pulling out a sheet to study.
    “Yes, you have been pinging steadily for a long time. It was time to tip here.”
    “What do you mean pinging?”
    “It’s the sound your fear makes in the universe,” she replied in all seriousness. “Yes, here are your specifics. A bright girl, prone to, hmm, yes, typical, yes, well we’ve seen that before, hmm….” She continued reading, though silently. I had nothing to do but wait. She looked up.
    “Sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you. I was just re-reading your report. Here’s what went through your head in the last few hours:
    “Subject exhibits generalized fears on a daily basis. Specifics include persistent paranoia that giraffe will come alive and munch her, including bones; fear of ice cream trucks, strangers who say hello, bridges, predators driving box vans…. Well, it goes on, but that’s a start.”
    Weird. She knew my thoughts. “How do you know that?”
    “It’s our business to know.”
    “Why do you care? Is that bad?”
    “Not necessarily, when the ratios are right. Everyone feels fear; it’s a gift from the universe to keep our species from extinction. Fear keeps us from hurting ourselves when the danger is real. But you will not be a child for much longer, and to be pinging this much at your age is a warning signal. We know it is time to act.”
    “Pinging is a funny word. What do you have, some kind of giant fear radar in here?”
    Miss Clarice laughed and nodded. “I guess you could describe it that