Quinn: A Short Story

Quinn was laying in the alley. Her eyes were closed, her hands laying by her side. She wasn't gracefully put into a coffin like Snow White, nor was she bloody, cut into a few pieces. Quinn was well alive and breathing. But then it happened. Quinn had no idea how. She awoke with a start. No one knew why she woke up at that certain time. Some of the gods and goddesses thought that a car sped by too fast, or the wind blew across her strong. Yet it was a windless day, and the streets were empty. Some of the gods and goddesses thought that she was supposed to awakened when the world needed her the most. Most of Olympus went with this theory.

Quinn curled her toes as she sat up. She was wearing jeans and a blue sweater. She furrowed her eyebrows.

She was sore, weak, and confused. She couldn't remember anything, who she was, what she was. All she remembered was Quinn, she was Quinn.

So she wandered around. The street was completely deserted, not even a car. Yet towering buildings were everywhere, creating a maze. Quinn's head started to spin. Where was she? Was she in the secret Mayan ruins? Okay no, she was definitely not in the Mayan ruins.

Quinn heard faint scuffling as she walked, probably a squirrel. Yet there didn't seem to be any plant or animal life, just brick and stone. Population of unknown land probably inhabited by green three-eyed aliens: one human being who has amnesia.

Maybe she was dead. Maybe she was on her way to heaven, but she needed to get through this maze of buildings first. Maybe she was in the wrong place. Her tangled hair and beat-up sneakers described age, yet it was impossible to tell how long she'd been sleeping. She felt faints words whispering through her head... Destroy Íra, avenge ichó. It was burned into her head. Was it something she learned from school? Probably not. A cold voice of anger was speaking

More scuffling, faint noise, like a creepy horror movie. Except for the fact that nothing was dark, the sky was a pale grey. Nothing was bright either, except for Quinn's hair. A premonition, a feeling that something wasn't right flashed through her head like a fire alarm.

All of a sudden, Quinn heard a piercing scream. It was loud, lasting for a half a second. There was no cry of help, just a shriek. Quinn wanted to run. She wanted to hear her feet tapping against the pavement as she left this nightmare. But her legs were frozen to the street. She did start running, more like sprinting, towards the sound. It was stupid, she felt stupid, like some hero, but she no longer had control over her body.

Quinn skidded to a stop. She heard voices, voices of cold anger. "You think we've done it?" A hopeful voice said.

Quinn could imagine the scowl on the other voice's face. "No, you stupid good-for-thing... just no! We brought the wrong person. See, he doesn't have ichor."

"When will we find someone who knows of Íra's secrets?" The first voice was now hopeless. Quinn froze in her position. Íra,