Hey everyone, this is the beginning of a fantasy novel - I'd really appreciate it if you could take the time to critique it and give your opinion smile :

It all started with a cup. It looked nothing special – just an old, long-forgotten, dusty cup, rather small, thrown by unworldly forces into an abandoned attic. But special days have a habit of sneaking up behind you with the most unexpected things, and they always start out under the guise of an ordinary day. How was I supposed to know today was one of those days?

Studying my reflection in the mirror, I hastily brushed my long, dark brown hair which framed my heart-shaped face. Outside, rain pattered the windows; a gray sky loomed over our roof. A flash of lightning lit the whole sky for a brief, magnificent moment. Then the rumbling of thunder came roaring by. I shivered, even in my coat. The pattering of my feet against the sidewalk was a loud slap-slap-slap, and I could hear my mom’s distant voice from the front door.

“Bye, Ivy. Have a great day at school,” Mom called down the sidewalk.

“Thanks, Mom,” I called back.

I rushed to the bus top just as it neared the curb. As I stepped in, I could hear all the kids chatting with their friends, but all conversation ceased as I stepped in, and everyone stopped to stare at me, almost frightened. I uncomfortably sat down in a seat right in the front, as far away as I could be from them. It wasn’t exactly my fault that I was unpopular. It was true I was paler in skin tone than most, and that my eyes were violet. But it wasn’t my clothes, the way I talked, or my intelligence, but rather the bad luck that almost seemed to circle around me. It wasn’t my fault though. I mean, wasn’t it just coincidence that Abby’s mother was involved in a car crash right after we made our first weekend plans together? Wasn’t it pure chance that Mary’s parents announced their divorce to her right after we befriended each other during recess? Wasn’t it just plain, old, bad luck that Samantha’s favorite good luck charm went missing right after we laughed together, right before her championship match? Definitely. But the other kids didn’t seem to think so, and whenever we crossed paths, they would skirt around me, as if being around me would bring bad luck. I don’t get it. Everyone else seems to make friends fine, even that strange new boy in class. But I guess that’s just life. But that boy sure does seem strange – not ordinary strange, like wearing socks in sandals or whatever, but like the unknown-kind of strange. There’s just something about that him that makes me feel he's untrustworthy…but whatever. He’s not important.

As the school bell rang, I quickly changed into my P.E. uniform. I had P.E. first period and my teacher, Mr. Reeno, announced today was the mile. A collective groan resonated around the gym. I personally wasn’t disappointed – excited, actually. Mr. Reeno came up to me, and clapped me on the back, “So, are we setting another record today, Ivinator?” I grinned.

“Maybe, Mr. Reeno,” I replied.

“Go blow those people’s socks off,” He called. I smiled in acknowledgement. Although I wasn’t by all means popular among the students, most of the teachers liked me, Mr. Reeno in particular. Maybe he felt sorry for me, or maybe he was simply wowed by my running skills. Either way, he was always the one ready to lend a word of praise or encouragement – something I appreciated to start off the day. However, the favoritism didn’t make him any more lenient towards me compared to everyone else when it came to warm-ups. Stretching wasn’t difficult; it was the 20 push-ups we did every day that got me. My legs’ strength can’t help me much, and my arms are ridiculously weak. After the torturous push-ups, we went outside to field. I was excited, driven by a burst of adrenaline as a breeze brushed past us.

“On your mark, get set –” Mr. Reeno blew the whistle. I got off to a great start, with the wind rushing past my ears, my feet hitting the earth. I quickly gained the lead, and I finished one lap quickly. Exhilarated, I was content to go at the same speed until the end – no need to push myself – I was already far ahead everyone else. That is, until I heard an out-of-rhythm step against the grass; I could hear someone else gaining on me. What? Who on earth would that be? I turned around to find the strange new boy running close behind, a smirk on his face. At that moment, it hit me that his eyes were also violet, his skin as pale as mine. Without taking more time to think, I sped up, racing past the corners of the field, all the while hearing the strange new boy’s breathing come closer and closer. Determined not to lose this one place of honor I had in school, I pushed myself to go faster and faster… and I realized I had lost all comprehension of my senses. I whirled past the last turn, the ground a smooth green blur beneath me, the trees hurtling behind me, and the wind crashing into me, my eyes squints, and my legs and arms pumping at a faster speed than I ever could have dreamed. Eventually, the blurred view of Mr. Reeno’s face rushed past me, and I heard indistinguishable sounds that may have been my time. I stopped, my body not at all affected by the abrupt halt. I turned around, and for the first time, I noticed Mr. Reeno had an expression of shock on his face.

“3 minutes,” were the only words he uttered. Whoa. Mr. Reeno and I stared at each other for a very long time, time quietly ticking by, only snapping back into reality when the strange new boy reached the finish line, second.

“5 minutes 30 seconds,” Mr. Reeno breathed. Comprehension didn’t sink in until I saw the strange new boy watching me.

“All right!” Mr. Reeno’s exuberant personality returned. “You really took it seriously when I said to set another record – but you’re the Ivinator – what else could I have expected?” He gave me a hearty clap on the back, which nearly toppled me over. I would have normally been delighted – I mean, come on, a 3-minute mile?! Was that like a world record? I was half expecting the press to storm around me – but my delight took a side-track as I contemplated the strange new boy’s expression. What was it? It wasn’t just normal shock to see someone finish a mile in 3 minutes. It was… an appraising look almost, a smirk, as if he’d known all along some dark secret, and it was just proved. His eyes had that look… but I’m turning paranoid. Whatever. I should be pleased with my mile time.

As second period started, I settled into my desk, happiness radiating off of me, and prepared for Language Arts – pulling out a pencil, my folder… and I sensed something. I could feel the eyes of someone boring into me, and I whipped around. The strange new boy was there, staring at me – no, not one of those mushy looks, but a contemplative look, as if he were studying me, sizing me up, confirming my previous guesses. How can he have the same classes as me? That bothered me, as well as the expression on his face, but I defiantly stared back, willing him to back down.

The rap of someone’s knuckle on my desk startled me, and I turned around to find Mr. Harbinger glancing sternly, no, coldly, down at me. I never knew why, but Mr. Harbinger was the one teacher that seemed to dislike me – a lot, even from when he started teaching at my school. He replaced our old Language Arts teacher, after the old one apparently quit, having won some instant lottery. He exhibited his coldness every day; I did my best to fight back with exceptional work, punctuality, and attentiveness – today being one accidental exception. Harbinger fixed me with a cold glance, “Ms. Starling, I expect you to pay attention when the bell rings and I ask you a question. No doubt Chase is very fascinating to study, but I expected you to have higher priorities.” Students around me snickered, and I wished I could melt into the seat. “You will serve after-school detention, Ms. Ivy Starling, and I hope you will learn then to pay attention.” I had never gotten detention before, not even by Mr. Harbinger – until now. And I didn’t like the sound of it. All of the 8th graders came out of Harbinger’s detentions saying what chilling experience they had in there. Of course, you could never trust those 8th graders, but I could still feel a shiver down my spine. This, I was sure, had nothing to do with the weather outside as I felt violet eyes burning into me.

At 3:00, the bell rang and I proceeded nervously down to room 202. I took a deep breath and pushed the door. Mr. Harbinger was waiting for me. Giving me a stern glance, he motioned towards a chair. I went as fast as I could, hoping that he wouldn’t give me an extra rebuke for not obeying orders quickly.

“You are to write a paper about why paying attention in class to the teacher is important. Three important reasons at least – expository essay,” He said. “You have 40 minutes.” I nodded, too nervous to do anything else. “Pleased to see you understand. I have to attend to a meeting, but I will be back by 3:40 to receive your finished response.” He left the room without another word.

I released a sigh. It wasn’t too bad – I should have known those eighth graders had been lying. I unzipped my backpack and took some paper, when I felt a strange feeling. It was a tug in my stomach, as if trying to signal me to do something. I looked around. And what I saw shocked me.

There was an old, wooden staircase in the classroom, right next to the blackboard, and at the top was a door with what seemed to be mist shrouding it. The mist cleared, and the door was just there, as if begging me to come to it. Wow – was this weird or what? I swear my eyes were playing tricks on me. Why was there a door there all of a sudden? It sure wasn’t there for the last five months I was in sixth grade. I rubbed my eyes. Still there. I closed my eyes, counting slowly to ten. When I was done, the door and staircase were still solidly there. I glanced at the clock – a minute had barely passed. I had enough time to check out what was behind the door and finish the essay.

I walked up the stairs that creaked with my every step, nervously wondering if the staircase would collapse under me. I breathed a sigh of relief when I reached the top step, apparently unharmed. I reached for the dusty, varnished copper doorknob, and…found the doorknob was stuck. I tried again. Nothing. I tried the other direction. Nada. I yanked at the doorknob. Nope. I sighed and laid my head against the door, trying to will it to open. To my greatest surprise, I fell forward with a crash. After regaining my wits, I looked up and found the door had opened. That was really weird. It didn’t really open to my command, did it? Knowing I was paranoid, sure my imagination was wild, I still decided to test my theory.

“Close,” I told the door, envisioning the door shutting. After a few seconds, it shut. I couldn’t believe it. No windows were open, no fans turned on – nothing could have forced the door to close, except for my command. Drawn in to this magic, I turned around and found myself in an old attic – a really old attic that seemed to be abandoned and long-forgotten, but filled with antiques – or maybe just old junk. I walked around, studying the items that I saw – an old sock (eww!), a three-legged stool, a cracked, silver mirror with an embellished frame, a cobweb-covered chair (perhaps throne even), a brass chandelier long unused, an old rag doll.

I paced the room, wondering what on earth this place was. It was then that a sparkle caught my eye, and I looked for the source. I don’t know why or how I knew, but I walked towards a pile of objects covered with cobwebs, starting digging around, and pulled out a cup! It was a small, old cup, just like everything else. I don’t know why I picked it up. It was dusty and old, and most likely fragile. Disgusted, I pulled away the cobwebs, tossing them aside and about to throw away the cup when a shimmer caught my eye. The cup had a shiny gold patch! I picked up the rag doll and starting rubbing and polishing the cup, my excitement growing. Jackpot! Pure gold! It was a golden goblet, albeit a mini one, not one that someone would drink from. There was a bird engraved on it. Elated by my discovery, I hugged it close and headed back to the door – it wouldn’t hurt to bring it with me and show it to someone. And I knew it wasn’t stealing – for the oddest reason, I felt the feeling that the cup had belonged to me. I stopped contemplating the strange circumstances when I realized the door wasn’t budging.

“Open!” I commanded. But it didn’t move. Gripping the cup tighter, my hand covered the engraved bird. Or maybe the door did open. But it opened in a strange way, almost swirling, like the world went sideways. I soon realized that it was my vision that was swirling, and it twisted, with the view becoming extremely blurry, and I got a pounding headache from it. I closed my eyes, trying to soothe my headache. Finally it cleared, and I opened my eyes. The first thin I noticed was that I was in a different room from before. For one thing, the door wasn’t in front of me anymore – in fact, there were no windows and doors – only an open ceiling, displaying the flawless blue sky. I was too short to reach over the walls. How did I get here? I felt heat in my palm, and looked at the cup in my hand, which had a golden chain attached to it that I had not noticed before. The engraved bird was glowing – then stopped. I squeezed it for good luck and put it on, like a necklace, underneath my shirt. Somehow I had the feeling this cup was a good thing for me, and I wasn’t about to lose it, like all of my potential friends.

When I looked around, the only things that were in the room were several long mirrors. All of them had different backgrounds with different figures, each exquisitely painted and even carved. I walked to the closest one – it had the background of a forest, and the artist seemed to have a drawn a cave far in the distance. As I peered closer for further inspection, I noticed a strange event. My reflection was in the mirror, yet it showed me standing in the forest it portrayed. I looked around. I was still in the room. I touched the mirror, and the event happened again; my vision swirled and turned blurry, and when it turned clear, I was in yet another different place.

I was in a lush forest, not a rainforest, but like a deciduous forest. All around me the trees sighed as a breeze brushed past them. With a startling jolt, I realized that this was the background of the mirror I had touched. Was this some kind of dream? How am I being transported everywhere? How – no when – was I going to wake up?

I sat down, with my head in my hands, trying to sort things out. After a while, I figured that doing this wasn’t going to help me in any way, so I decided to wander around. Maybe I’d meet some people and they’d explain things to me. I ignored the thought that the people might not be welcoming to my appearance, and shoved it to the back of my head. I could figure out everything once I got some answers. I suddenly remembered the cave I’d seen on the mirror – perhaps I could find information there? Looking off into the distance, I spotted a gray speck; it could be the cave. I figured this would be one very long trip. Then with another groan, I remembered the essay I had yet to write. But I had no better idea how to get back, so I walked. And walked and walked and walked. I lost patience quickly – having never gotten the idea of being patient – and I started to run – surely with my amazing new mile time, I would reach the cave very quickly.

However, time soon proved me wrong again and I was exhausted and sat down against a tree, recovering my strength. The cave was still a mere gray fleck amid the horizon – it was like I made no progress. Out of energy and determination, I lay down on the grass and soaked in the sunlight. A regal bird with a silver sheen flew over high above. Suddenly, something hot was on my chest. I pulled out the cup, warm in my hand and glowing brilliantly. Then a bright golden flash engulfed me and I couldn’t see anything. For a moment, spots were in my eyes, but after I regained my sight, I let out a gasp. I was right next to the cave. I looked at the cave, then at the cup. This was definitely an interesting cup.

I proceeded to look for the cave entrance. It wasn’t there. I tried knocking on the wall, pressing my ear to the rock. It wasn’t there. I circled the cave several times, looking for some hidden entrance. Wasn’t there. I mustered the last of my strength and climbed to the top of the cave to look – nothing there except rock. After all that futile searching, it was reasonable for me to conclude this was one huge boulder, but something told me differently. My conscience? Perhaps – it seemed like there was this little voice in my head telling me what to do. And I was sure this was a cave.

Exhausted, I lay down on the cave and tried to think what to do next. Then I stayed rigidly still. I could hear something down there. Voices? I put my ear closer, but the walls were too thick. I could only hear a vague, indistinguishable sound. Frustrated, I pounded on the wall with my fist, hoping something would hear me. Unbelievably a crack appeared where I tapped it. I looked at my hand. I felt light-headed and unbelievably calm and serene. Something had changed about me since I transported to the cave. It was as if by taking the cup and entering this world, another being had come into play. My hands weren’t that strong before, I was sure, and the rock was definitely thick.

I pressed my ear against the cave crack, and this time could hear something.

“Foolish little girl…how dare she try force her way into the cave.” A voice said.

“Indeed…but this one is different from the others. Do you not sense her different aura?” Said another.

“It is slightly different. But I do not see why she would pose a threat to us. Leave her alone. We don’t need her. I doubt she’d be of any use to us anyway. Let her wander endlessly throughout the forest to her demise.”

At those words, my blood began to boil. No use, huh? So it doesn’t matter if you just leave me to die, I guess? What kind of people lived here? And with those thoughts, I did something I never did before. I grabbed the air in front of me, and stretched it, and I could actually feel something stretching. It took shape, whatever it was, and formed into a kind of ball, made of air, and with arm strength I knew never could have naturally come from me, I threw it down, creating a loud rumble, and I could feel the rock underneath me crumbling, and myself falling, falling…into darkness.