In 1975, everyone had been named Jennifer. Chaos reigned and the world had almost been destroyed. Now every generation has a Namer. The Namer gives children of three their names and their futures that the name holds. But what if the Namer got a name wrong? What if the Damsel saves herself? Or the Coward becomes the hero? What will the world hold then? For a name holds power and there is one who seeks to change their name and their fate to become the most powerful of them all.
The Reader was a small woman, barely standing 5 feet. She had mousy brown hair that fell around her face in unkempt waves. Her bright blue eyes were hidden behind glasses as thick as Coke bottles. Pale fingers raced across the dusty pages, her eyes drinking up every last drop of printer's ink. When a knock came to her door, the Reader looked up slowly, reluctant to leave the world inside the words.
"Enter," she said, in a voice as crisp as paper. The door creaked slowly open and a mite of a girl entered hesitantly, eyes glued on the floor. "Yes, how can I help you child?" asked the Reader. The girl stared harder at the wood grain floor and mumbled something inaudible.
"What's that child? Speak up," the Reader ordered. The small girl's face turned bright red.
"The Keeper sent me to help sort your books, m'lady," she squeaked in a small voice. The Reader sighed, the Keeper was always sending her his castoffs and so far none of them had been very helpful.
"What is your name, child?" She asked in a softer voice. The little girl seemed to be shaking from head to toe.
"Mouse," squeaked the girl, her brown eyes full of fear. Of course it is, the Reader thought, the Namer rarely gets things wrong. This small mite of a girl even looked like a mouse with shaggy brown hair, a pointed nose, and ears too large for her head.
"Can you read, Mouse?" The girl twisted her tattered tunic in small, white hands.
"I know the letters and what order they go in, m'lady." Mouse looked up briefly, eyes shining hopefully.
"Good enough," the Reader sighed "well just keep your hands clean and do not disturb my work and we should get along fine. Are you hungry? It is almost noon, we can start with the A's after we break our fast." The girl nodded slowly, her eyes studying the room, taking in the endless bookshelves, filled to the brim. The Reader stood slowly, rubbing her aching back. She went to the girl and gently put out her hand. Mouse stared at it as if it was a snake about to bite. Slowly she took it in one of hers and shook it once. "It's a pleasure to meet you Mouse," the Reader said firmly "now let us go eat."
* * *
Damsel stared out her tower window and watched the world below. The forest stretched out in all directions, covering the land in an endless sea of green. There winding through the woods was a small, dirt path. Damsel watched that path day and night, knowing one day her prince would come. For certainly all fairy tales had a happy ending, didn't they?
With a disgusted sigh, Damsel turned around and studied her room. There was her bed, no bigger than a cot. Her bedside table, overflowing with books and magazines. Against one wall there stood a dresser, an easel, and a shelf full of toys, books, and even a small radio. All the comforts of home, Damsel thought bitterly.
She wanted more. She wanted to save herself from this damn tower. Why did she have to be the damsel in distress? Who gave the Namer the power to name people what they would be? Angry, Damsel picked up her teddy bear and threw it against the wall.
"Curse the Namer, I will no longer be (her) plaything! I am going to rescue myself even if it kills me!"
"DAMSEL!" A sharp, harsh voice called from somewhere below. Crap, thought Damsel, not Mother. She looked anxiously around her room, which was a mess. Mother would have a fit. Quickly Damsel swept the trash under her bed, pulled the covers up to hide the still rumbled blankets, and ran a hand through her tangled blond hair.
"DAMSEL! LET ME IN!" screeched Mother's voice. With one more frantic look in the mirror, Damsel went to window and looked down. Mother stood there, hands on her narrow hips, glaring up at her with hatred in her green eyes.
"Yes Mother," Damsel called out and threw out the rope ladder. It was the only way in and unstable unless someone held it from the top, so Damsel could never use it to escape by herself. Mother was going to have her grow out her hair to use as a rope but thought that would have been too cliche. The ladder landed next to the dirt path with a soft thud. Groaning the old woman began to climb, Damsel had to hold on with all her might so the ladder would not sway too much. With a final heave and grunt, Mother pulled herself into the small room. She stood, her iron gray hair brushing the top of the ceiling, her green eyes burning with rage.
"Why did it take you so long, you little wretch? What are you hiding up here?" Mother reached out and tweaked Damsel's nose so hard that her eyes watered. The old woman strode around the room, her nose twitching as if she could smell out the reason. Damsel rubbed her sore nose but waited silently. It was best to keep her mouth shut when Mother was in this mood. After several long moments the older woman seemed satisfied and whirled to face her captive. Stepping close, the old woman scrutinized Damsel and let out a grunt.
"I suppose you want your supplies replenished," Mother snapped. Damsel simply nodded. "Fine, but it might take me a few days so I hope you have enough saved away. I don't want my precious gem to waste away." Damsel suppressed a shudder, Mother had been promised a reward for keeping Damsel safe until the day the Prince was suppose to come and rescue her. Then she would be married off and forced to bear the Prince's children. The daughters would be held in their own towers until the cycle repeated and repeated. It all made Damsel sick to her stomach and she promised herself to be link that broke in the horrible chain.
"Good," Mother said in her shrill voice. Her cold hand patted Damsel's cheek. She looked around the room with disgust in her eyes. "Clean this place up, it looks like a sty. And comb your hair, what are you, a vagabond?" Damsel shook her head. "We want to look nice for Prince, right deary?"
"Yes Mother," Damsel said in a quiet voice. Mother nodded in agreement and crossed to the window.
"I shall return in three days time and I want this room spotless, understand?"
"I understand"
"Good, now don't get into any trouble or I will wring your pretty little neck?" Mother said in a cold voice, Damsel swallowed hard but managed to nod. For a long time after Mother had left, Damsel stood in front of her mirror, combing her long, golden hair until her scalp was red and her hands ached. She promised herself that somehow she would escape, before Mother could return and make good on her constant threats.
