Note to the Reader: The following snippets are rough draft chapters of my current WIP MG fiction novel CAUGHT IN THE ACT: THE SPELL.
CHAPTER 2
“Josh! Josh!” Somebody was shaking him. “Josh, wake up.”
“What?” Josh swished his blurry eyes from side to side.
“Wake-up. The pilot says we’re landing soon.”
“What?” Joshed scooted up in his seat. He rubbed his eyes and looked around the plane. He saw his teacher in her I Love New York ball cap quietly reading her magazine. Josh’s classmates in front of him were in various states of rest and restlessness. The barely warm air from the plane’s heater-slash-air conditioning system smelled like bland processed flowers with a hint of disinfectant. Everything was the same as it was before he fell asleep.
“Have we been here the whole time?” Josh asked his friend, Travis, definitely noting that he was dressed in his worn-out sneakers, blue jeans, and t-shirt. No suspenders or buckled shoes.
“Of course. What’d you think we’d do, stop off at a Wendy’s?” Travis elbowed Josh. “I tried to convince the pilot to go through the drive through when we flew over Denver, but he didn’t go for it.”
“Ha, ha! Very funny.” Josh shook his head trying to clear his mind. “I had a crazy dream.”
“Oh yeah?” Travis finished zipping the case to his headphones and tucked them in his backpack.
“We were in like this old barn, and you were wearing suspenders.”
“Really?” Travis pulled a bag of chips from backpack and offered some to Josh.
Josh nodded his head. “You were dressed in this costume of old-fashioned clothes. You had on pilgrim shoes.”
“Huh!” Travis shoved more chips in his mouth and crunched.
“You acted like you didn’t know me and got all freaked out and ran off. I ended up setting the barn on fire.”
“Why?”
“It was an accident. I dropped the lantern.”
“Lantern?”
“Yeah. You had a lantern.”
“Why.”
“I don’t know. You just did.” Josh scowled and looked out the window. He was certain he’d been there. As certain as he was that he was watching the lights of Missoula, Montana appear through the window of the plane.
“So, what else happened?” Travis asked.
“Nothing. We were just in this big barn with all the normal barn animals and old tools. I tried to put out the fire, but that’s when you woke me up.”
“Weird.”
“This whole trip’s been weird. Everybody losing their luggage, getting lost and going to wrong theatre, almost missing the flight home.”
“Maybe that’s why your dream was so strange.” Travis shoved the empty chip bag to the bottom his backpack and pulled out a banana. “Your brain’s making up crap.”
“It sure seemed real.” Josh muttered and looked down at his hand. He traced his fingers along the red, raw band across his palm.
CHAPTER 3
Spirits of the South, East, North and West,
May this night of the seventh year be blessed
Blessed be, goddess of all, I ask for your loving presence
I call upon you, plead for your assistance.
I made a pledge in the hours of my youth
But I must be a shield to prevent the destruction of the truth
Within my circle of protection, I vowed to harm none
Yet, the light of wisdom must be allowed to glimmer in the sun.
Every force used to steal the knowledge of the past
Though years will linger, may these words last
May they be hindered by the power of right
May my will, your will, help the lamp of knowledge glow ever bright.
I take my ritual sword and raise it high
Will the Goddess Diana stand watch in the sky
May it help preserve the history that has been carved
As the powers of evil are shriveled and starved.
In the end, we will win, right will be victorious
Because even though the journey was long and laborious
Spirits of lasting time will be joyous, together we will laugh
We will close our protective circle knowing knowledge will find a new path.
“Blessed be, goddess of all. Thank you.” The words barely a whisper as Arayla tilted her head up, opened her arms, and felt the power of the moment fill her body.
Arayla stood at the center of a circle of candles. The dim room around her shone gold in the flickering light. Fierce hope and worry etched the lines on her face.
Elegant and graceful, she stepped beyond the circle. Her long, flowing gown of creamed satin swished about her ankles as she walked the circle. With each step, the candles whispered out. Dusky smoke swirled—drifting higher into the tall, thin tower.
Even though Arayla had traveled the world, weaving in and out of the ages, she’d always preferred her time here. She’d found solace in other locations, other places, older buildings with more history, but this was hers. Here is where she felt the most needed, the most at home.
Arayla walked to stand at one of the wide windows that looked below to the street where horns honked and engines revved. The lateness of the hour didn’t keep the people from clicking quickly along the sidewalk. Their voices drifted up. Some were happy, some overly loud, some sad. Whatever they were, they all mixed with the scent of exhaust and the meatloaf her beloved neighbor had made for dinner. Arayla looked a moment at the lights, blinking here, blinking there. She felt a sense of peace and joy knowing that in the city with millions of people, she was one of the lights.
To Arayla it seemed easy enough to settle into the rhythm of New York City and wait for the day to come again. But with a heavy heart, she leaned close to the glass and let her warm breath spread a fog along the pane. The weight grew filling her with sadness, anger, fear as she drew a circle with her finger in the mist on the window. Looking through the mist, through the glass Arayla saw what her brother had done. She saw the girls’ parents shriek in agony, as they held their daughter’s silent body, surrounded by pink wilting roses.
“You will not win, brother.” Arayla vowed. She swathed her hand through the picture in the glass darkening it to black.