The Century Storm Chapter 1: "Mum, mum! She's waking up!" The girl with the black hair heard a little voice calling from beside her. Her eyes were forced closed, but she could feel the warmth of a real bed surrounding her, blankets covering her and a pillow under her head. The boy must have saved me, she thought. She tried to roll over to see him, move at all, but found herself stuck, paralyzed in one place. She couldn't even bring herself to say anything, her throat was so dry, all she did was cough. "That's impossible, she's been like that for six years!" An older woman yelled, her footsteps joining the boys at her bedside. The girl coughed again, trying to show signs of #life to the woman. She gasped, "get the girl some water!" Little footsteps ran away, but quickly came back. The woman began forcing water into her mouth, which she gratefully accepted, the cold stinging her throat in the process. She coughed again, this time with more sound, a promising sign. "Oh Steven! Go grab your brother, he'll want to see her!" She nudged the little boy who ran off. "Are you alright?" The woman rubbed her arm, and the girl nodded painfully. A third set of footsteps entered the room, with the smell of clean, fresh, spring, had the storm finally passed? "I'm going to grab her some soup and tea, will you watch her?" The misses said, running off without an answer. "Sleeping beauty awakes." The man stated, no emotion in his voice. "I pull you out of the water and what's the thanks I get? Six years of silence?" He laughed, attempting to make a joke. She tried to say something back, but her throat was still so scratchy and dry. The woman's footsteps stopped at the door for a few moments then turned back around. "Tea or soup?" The male voice asked, sitting on the edge of her bed. He pulled her up with one arm around her shoulders and put a hot cup to her lips. "Tea, drink up." He said, letting the girl take a few sips. The warmth was instant, she felt it circling throughout her body, giving her enough energy to finally move her eyes. They fluttered open, revealing a tall boy sitting on the edge of her bed. His fair skin and light hair reminded her of some of the statues found on the streets, his big brown eyes looked into hers. He was much older than the boy who had saved her, but everyone had been saying she'd been asleep for six years. The curtains were drawn, letting her see that the storm still raged on outside, he followed her gaze. "The century storm, as of this year." He stated like a tour guide, completely emotionless. "A century?" She asked, her voice raspy and quiet, but a voice. She hadn't talked to anyone in ages. "As of this year, yes. One hundred years of nonstop snow, and first people thought the earth was warming." He laughed again, she was obviously not getting the joke. "No. It had only been a few days." She stuttered, her voice clearing up with every sip of tea. He tilted his head, his attire looked normal. A black shirt, blue jeans, a long coat hanging on the door, his boots were worn and old, and his watch had hands, everything was as it was. "A few days since what? Since you fell through? You were in a coma, it's been six years." He explained, offering her the soup once her tea was gone. "No. It's was only a few days after the storm hit." She laughed, the boy thinking that the storm had been going on for one hundred years, when it had only been six years and a few days. His head was now hitting his shoulder and his eyes squinted, focusing on her. "Where are you from?" He asked, genuinely concerned. "Here of corse!" She laughed, but realized something. He sounded nothing like her, his accent was different, all of their's were. "Paris, I'm from France. Where am I now?" She asked. "This isn't France honey." He laughed, throwing himself back onto her bed. "You're in Australia. Sydney to be exact. That snow storm has been going on for one hundred years after a few days ago, and nobody's gone outside in that amount of time. I bet some people have stayed inside their entire lives, living and dying without seeing anything but their own four walls." She couldn't see his face, but she could hear the longing in his voice. "You were outside." She stated, trying to move, but a sharp pain shot through her back. "I was outside. It's not cold." She said, shaking her head and drinking her tea. "Why do you think it was only a few days?" He asked, ignoring her previous statements. "There were only a few nights." She replied. He laughed again, rolling off her bed and standing next to the window. He never stopped moving, even with his gaze locked on the falling snow, he swayed back and forth. "The nights here last for about a decade, same with the days. If you thought you were gone for a few days, thats about one hundred years. It's been day since you got here." "That's impossible. Nobody can go one hundred years without eating, drinking or sleeping." She said, forgetting about the pain in her back and standing up. She was taller than she remembered and dressed in a loosely fitting night gown. "Well you did." He said emotionlessly. "What's your name?" He asked, still staring at the falling snow. She hesitated, nothing coming to mind. "I don't remember." She sighed, leaning against the window. It was cold on her skin, but quickly heated to the touch. "My entire #life I lived alone, I never needed one." "What do you want to be called?" He asked, looking past her and at the defrosting window. "I don't have any clue." She laughed, looking at him. He was handsome, strong, but cold, he never seemed to care much about anything, which is all she gathered in the ten minutes she'd been awake. "You chose." He thought, chewing on his bottom lip. "What about Phoenix? The mythical bird of fire." She smiled, it was a nice name, fitting. It sounded good rolling off his tongue, natural. She nodded, realizing how tired she really was. "You take a nap, I'll bring you some clothes and we'll see if a bath can be drawn." He lead her back to the bed and pulled the covers around her. "Try not to make it six years again." He smirked, closing the door behind him. "Hey!" She called out, he popped his head back through the door. "You never told me your name." She smiled, yawning. "Doesn't mean you don't know it." He said winking at her and closing the door again. "Goodnight Archer." She smiled, nuzzling into the pillow. ***** "Archer!" The smaller boy yelled, his long brown hair bobbing in front of his face. "I got some clothes! Is the girl still asleep?" "Yes, so keep it down Robbie." He scolded the boy, grabbing the clothes from his hands. Robbie had got any clothes he could find, he didn't know what size she was. She'd been covered up for six years, and the clothes she'd worn there weren't much help either. "We never had to worry about being quiet before." Robbie moaned, trying to brush his hair out of his eyes. It was growing quite long, but he'd never let the misses cut it. "That's because she was in a coma." He laughed, ruffling the kid's hair up. "Now, can you tell the misses to draw her a bath?" "Already did!" He smiled, proud of himself. Archer had always been more of a father to him, Robbie's father had died when he was only one. "And Archer." Robbie asked, joining him by the fire. "You've lived here longer than I have, you could at least call my mum by her name." "That's disrespectful. She houses me, feeds me, clothes me and you want me to call her by a common name, I could never." He scoffed as the clock struck ten. "Time for bed." Archer added, pushing Robbie up the grand stairs. They believed they were the only ones in the castle, the only living ones anyway. A few visitors had been trapped when the storm hit, they all gathered in the main hall near the biggest fire place, but many soon died. Only the Schmitt family was left, baring one son, Robbie. Soon the castle was to die with him, unless someone else hid in one of the other wings. Robbie's PJs were on, his teeth were brushed and Archer had tucked him into bed, tending to the fire in the corner. "Archer?" He yawned watching the embers blaze through sleepy eyes. Archer looked towards him, pulling the heavy curtains closed to block out the sun which will be there for a few more years. "Can you tell me a story?" He asked. Archer's big brown eyes blinked in sympathy, but he showed no more emotion towards the boy. "I know no stories." He replied, taking a seat in the rocking chair anyway. "Just make one up!" He nagged. Archer sighed, giving in. He also noticed the slim figure of a girl hovering in the doorway. "Once upon a time, there was a girl and a boy, lost to time itself. They lived #life after #life, always finding each other one way after another. They'd never look the same, each #life they'd take a different look, but they could see it in each other. They could see each other's deep down. One #life, long after their first, it grew very cold, and the girl grew very sick. So sick that the boy couldn't make her better. He left her, he had to, she was to sick to notice that he left her with a nice woman, one who couldn't have kids. The boy and the girl didn't age for a long time, for they needed each other to move on. Then one day, the boy noticed he looked older, only by a day or two but he was still older, he became hungry, tired and most of all happy, because he knew the girl was near. But the girl was still sick, and he couldn't help her, and soon she became so sick, the boy became sick and they had to go home. The end." He said, pushing himself out of the chair with more effort than he had shown. "What happened to the boy and girl?" Robbie yawned, fighting to keep his eyes open. "The boy caught the girl eavesdropping and the girl apologized and took a bath. Goodnight Robbie."