Chapter 3 – Whispering Waters (Book One)

 

 

 

            Queen Desdemona stood in her favorite steeple in Zatar Palace, staring at the snowy Jaspian Mountain peaks. The snow never melted completely from the highest peak, Mount Solaha. The snow melt formed seasonal streams which helped farmers through dry summers. Even, she thought bitterly, farmers that fought against her sovereignty. 

            She could not stop the snow melt, perhaps, but precipitation could be controlled. She stroked the pendants that hung on a chain around her neck. A gold and obsidian bee. A golden tree frog with emerald spots.

            She turned to the chalk board that stood against one wall and wiped it clean. Then she wrote, “Where is the dragonfly charm now?”

            Lines of white chalk formed, showing the answer for the first time ever. A smile spread across her face. The image showed the entire Land of Zatar. On the map, two hills appeared and then a building. It looked like Agnof Keep in the Sunken Valley, where a stream disappeared into a sink hole. The karst terrain spread through much of that region, forming hidden caves, tunnels and underground waterways.

            The picture of a waterfall appeared southward of Agnof Keep, along the fringe of Hallam Woods. The amulet must be there, she thought. Queen Desdemona headed for the palace courtyard, laughing in excitement.

 

* * *

 

            The waterfall splattered against the pool in front of her. The cascade of water looked like something from a fairy tale, with its moss covered rocks and flowers blooming out of every nook and cranny.

            And the water. It looks so clean. She ran over to it and took a sip without even thinking. She instantly regretted it. Her dad warned her, lectured her repeatedly about Giardia. He would tell a lengthy tale of how he caught the protozoan parasite one time while hiking the Appalachian Trial for a month with his buddies. They became so sick they had to end their trip early.

            How could she forget? But, maybe the clear blue water was as pure as it appeared. She’d know by tomorrow.

            The water seemed to be calling to her, making her decide to postpone her return home. It would only take a couple minutes, and then she would run all the way back. Besides, she would be a little late no matter what.

            She slipped off her running shoes and socks and dipped her feet in the water, admiring the moss-covered rocks all around the pool. On the opposite side a steep, slanted cliff jutted out of the earth, reaching thirty feet at its highest point. She could walk to the top of the waterfall by climbing around the pool up a gentle, grassy slope that became the steep cliff.

            The sparkling water continued to taunt her and she couldn’t pull herself away. She thought she felt someone’s eyes on her, but she often had that eerie feeling when alone in the woods. “Hello?”

            No one answered.

            She took off her t-shirt and then her khaki shorts, leaving only her necklace and swim suit. Her father had given the necklace to her and made her promise to always wear it close to her heart. She kept it hidden under a t-shirt so it would not be stolen. The golden chain held a large golden dragonfly. An emerald gem stone shone from the center of its thorax and two small ones glittered from each eye. In order to please him, she heeded his words as best she could by almost never removing it.

            She took a deep breath and dove in. Ahh. It feels so cool. So nice. She practiced her strokes. Butterfly became her favorite stroke last year when she finally perfected the technique well enough to go for an entire lap. It still wore her out since it required more strength than any of the other strokes.

            She stood up on the rock in the middle of the pool, under the waterfall. It showered onto her gently, unlike what she expected from the loud noise the water made. She felt the weight of her long wet hair on her back.

            After some time, she swam back to a large rock on the edge, knowing she needed to head home. She meant to dress immediately, truly, she did. But she caught sight of an enormous, yellow flower growing close to the edge of the pool. It looked cute, but flowers can’t be cute.

            The floppy, colorful petals held her in a trance, drawing her closer. She walked toward the flower while dressing. The round center of the flower turned into a face as she came closer. Yes, it looked like two large, round eyes were there and a little mouth and nose. She laughed at herself, knowing how the forest inflamed her imagination as it dampened her reasoning. Awww . . . How adorable.

            What looked like eyes opened, and the deep blue discs stared at her. Then, the flower moved forward, revealing an infant-like body. The large, yellow petals flopped as the creature stood up. I must be dreaming. She had fallen asleep on the moss by the spring many times before. Normally she’d dream strange dreams of winged people and wake up surrounded by birds chirping.

            “Aww . . .” she said out loud. “Hello. You’re a cute little fellow, aren’t you?” Jessica bent down to see if the petals were real just as the baby grew large, sharp teeth. And two of its thorny leaves stretched out like hands. It growled and snapped its sharp teeth and she felt thorns scratch across her skin.

            She screamed and jumped onto the mossy rock by the water. More flower babies joined the first. She hoped her parents or a neighbor would hear her. The flower babies surrounded her on three sides and started crawling up the rock.

            At first, she didn’t want to hurt the babies. But that was silly. These weren’t babies, these were little monsters. She began knocking them off the rock with her t-shirt. When more and more kept coming, she became ruthless. She kicked them with her running shoes right in their big, round faces. But, there were too many of them. Once she knocked one off, it would be replaced. She was surrounded.

            She needed to escape into the water since surely they could not swim. But, as she turned to dive, bamboo-like plants sprouted all around her on top of the mossy rock. She kept kicking the babies to get them on the other side of the strange plants. Unfortunately, one pink flower baby dove through the plants aiming for her left calf. She swung her shirt at it, but the fabric whizzed by. She had swung a second too late. The creature sunk its pointy canines into her left calf.

            “YOW!” She tried repeatedly to pry the baby’s jaw from her leg, but to no avail. She became desperate. She felt tears of rage and pain running down her face as Jessica looked up into the sky. “Help! Help!”

            And then, all at once, all the flower babies fled back to the bushes in unison. All except for the one on her leg. The baby monster loosened its grip and stared ahead, its eyes growing wide in fear.

 

 

 

 

 

More About the Author

 

I live with my husband, our baby girl, Claire, our terrier, Benji, and, for the moment, two stray cats in Richmond, Virginia close enough into the city where we can walk or bike to several parks, the library, and farmer's markets. Before becoming pregnant with Claire, I biked to work almost everyday since it was only 3.5 miles. It's the most wonderful feeling to get into working knowing you've already accomplished something - part of your day's exercise routine.

 

Before Claire came along, I'd spend most of my time exercising. I'd often run or walk during my lunch break at work, then bike home. I'd play Ultimate Frisbee up to three times a week. And, I'd lift weights at least once. I kind-of laugh now when I think about it. Eventually I realized not only was I overdoing it, but I needed to accomplish more in my life than just being fit. So, I sat down and finished my first novel, Book One. I gained ten pounds in the process, but it was totally worth it. Still, I'm striving to maintain a better balance of work, play, and fitness.



 

 

This is my husband and my daughter, Claire, on Halloween night 2013.

 

Claire and Me

 

 

Claire and Me

 

 

Two Stray Kittens We Found on Our Street

 

 



Chapter Two: Birthday (Dragonfly Series, Book One)

Chapter Two: Birthday

 

Lightness of day, fullness of hour
Time opens portal of tulip flower.
The girl stirs, slips out at last
One hour to enter the past.

A mother finds her daughter sneaks
Along logs and watery creaks.
Away from home, into the trees
Across swamp and forest leaves.

Flowers bloom, buds burst
Animals drink to quell their thirst.
Demeter mourns, Persephone weeps
The sun rises and the moon sleeps.

 

The next morning, Jessica woke up early, as she often did, but especially today since it was her birthday. The stairs creaked as she tiptoed down them. They were carpeted but still made some noise since her grandparents had built the house over fifty years ago.

She slipped into the kitchen and turned on the electric kettle for her energizing morning tea. She drank a cup of tea from various wild plants each day. Stinging nettle filled up the most space in the mix, which she and her mom grew and harvested themselves each year. The herb hurt their hands to collect, wash, and dry because the stems and leaves had small, hollow hairs that inject chemicals that cause paresthesia. Once dried, the nettles don’t sting so much and, according to her mom, it is worth every sting due to the health benefits.  

While the water heated up, she checked her cell phone for messages. None. Of course. All her friends slept in late and she had checked it late last night. She hoped Eva was holding up okay. She figured she would. This was not her first break up after all.

She looked out the kitchen window into the backyard. Her mom often woke up early, making it was one of the few things they had in common. She scanned the vegetable rows. Sure enough, her mom stood by the strawberry plants, watering faithfully, her straight, blond hair glimmering in the morning sun. The wind took a sudden turn and sprayed water on her mom’s face, causing Jessica to smile.

The electric kettle whistled, forcing her to jump up and make her tea. She sat down again holding her steaming cup gingerly between her fingers. It was too hot to drink so she scarfed down her bowl of whole grain Honey Rings instead.

The back door screeched as she pushed it out, though she did not need to be quiet on account of her dad and Peter. They slept soundly and wouldn’t hear her. She edged along one side of the property, admiring a trellis with wisteria sprawling haphazardly along each post. The flower buds just opened up that morning to show their brilliant, purple petals. They were blooming just on time. She hid behind one vine and pulled out her spiral bound notebook and a pencil. She jotted “May 1 - Backyard” at the top, then “wisteria flowers blooming, just started.”

Her backyard represented her own, special paradise and she loved learning new things about it. The more she learned, the more she realized she needed to learn. After she memorized when the plants in her yard bloomed last year, she realized she could learn which insect liked to feed off of each flower. Then there were thousands of things to learn about each insect. But she felt content most of the time just to observe and take notes. The amount of knowledge she wanted to absorb didn’t stress her out, though she knew the natural world held more secrets than she could ever learn in her lifetime. She enjoyed the challenge.

After finishing her notation, she glanced across the garden to make sure her mother still hadn’t caught sight of her. Her mom continued to water the strawberries. She stood in between two apple trees that had been there since her grandparents planted them more than thirty years ago.

When her mom faced the other direction completely, she slipped behind the shed and kept walking steadily, watching her mom only with the corner of her eye, her peripheral vision. As soon as she made it into the woods, she bolted. She ran like a fawn, weaving in between trees and over roots. Her worn out sneakers were quiet, though it was her running style that helped the most. It had taken her years to perfect the silent running form of a Native American scout. Level head, bent knees, toes first.

Her father taught her this skill during the summer after her sixth birthday. She recalled he abruptly shut the book he was reading, startling her so badly she choked on her glass of lemonade.  

“Jessie, come on outside with me.” She followed hesitantly, anticipating another one of his lessons. “I just learned how Native Americans walk silently. You put the outside of your pinky toe down first, then roll to the big toe, and then to the heel. The goal is to keep your head level. Let’s try it!”

They first walked back and forth. When they thought they had it down, they ran back and forth across the grass in the front yard, barefoot. Jessica remembered that day, in particular, because for one stretch, she outran her father, who ran marathons.

“Wow you’re getting too fast for me!” Her father exclaimed. “Now maybe you can catch the deer in the forest.”

Although she knew he had let her win, her father had started something important that day. From that moment onward, she would indeed try to outrun the deer in the forest. And not just outrun them, but catch up to them so that if she stretched out her hands, she could touch their furry backs. Then, she could run beside them through the trees.  She held outrunning the deer as her greatest ambition, though so far the running style only helped her see wild animals, not catch or touch them.

The blue sky stretched above the trees with only a few white, puffy clouds floating merrily. The birds sang cheerful tunes into the warm air. She felt happy. Sometimes her moods were so closely linked to the natural world she couldn’t be sure which controlled which.

She slowed down to a walk. She liked to stop every now and then to watch a downy woodpecker or a band of dark-eyed juncos when in the forest. She knew the calls of all her favorite birds, almost too well. When she fell deep in thought, the sharp “pike” of a woodpecker or the rattle of a kingfisher would shock her out of her reverie.

But today the birds were strangely quiet for this hour. She believed it was due to the chill air blowing through the trees. The gentle breeze teased her long hair. By the time she returned home, her hair would be falling out of her pony tail in a tangled mess. Her friends would preen over her if she didn’t do something with it before the party. They all thought she was a freak for enjoying nature and hiking. She wished they were more open to it so she could have companions on her adventures.

She jumped over a little creek. It ran clear today. She wrote that down in her notebook. She heard a squirrel shout, “Hawk.” It really sounded more like one, quick “chee.” She looked up until she found a broad-winged hawk circling overheard. She made more notes in her notebook.

She waited there, by a white cedar tree until the threat was gone and the animals became comfortable again. It took a long time. 

She took a step forward and a squirrel alarmed. She had to stop so he didn’t warn the whole forest of her presence. She stood for another minute or two. Then she took a slow step. This was how she passed through unnoticed, or at the very least ignored. She had spent years learning this skill.

She balanced on a fallen butternut hickory tree, dotted with bright orange winter mushrooms. She jumped off and slid into an earthy pit. The base of the tree now towered above her like the back of a magical throne. She curled up and leaned against the roots.

She often returned to this spot in the forest, especially each year on this particular day, Beltane. People of the old religions celebrated the day by dancing around May poles. For her, the day brought emptiness and longing that not even her party could fill. On May 1^st, 16 years ago, her biological parents left her to die.

Seldom did she think about her sad, mysterious past. She forced herself not to dwell on it though sometimes the hurt feelings crept up on her. A few years ago, she vowed to protect her emotional self by limiting her thoughts of her biological parents to this day alone, the day her parents chose to celebrate her birthday. Her parents weren’t sure what day she’d been born on but this day marked the start of her new life with them. Jessica didn’t even know her exact age.

Why would her parents choose to abandon her like that? Did they not want her? Could they not afford her? Why didn’t they drop her off at a hospital?

The night her parents left her had been unusually cold for the season. Richard Abbott, who by coincidence, had also been orphaned as a young boy, heard her cries while on his morning run and found her wrapped in a soaked, cotton shawl sheltered by the same roots that held her now. Her adopted parents still to this day marveled at how she had survived the thirty degree Fahrenheit temperatures so exposed.

She used to make up stories about how her parents sacrificed her, their only baby, in order to save the forest and the swamp. But, baby Jessica managed to escape death because the world needed her for some heroic purpose later on – perhaps guarding the forest for years to come. Although she had almost died in these woods, she still felt safe here. It felt like home.  

She stood up and pushed through the forest underbrush following a deer trail, pondering the meaning of Beltane. She knew people celebrated spring crops and fertility. But would someone really sacrifice a baby for that? She didn’t think so.

The forest litter gave way to a patch of bare earth. She studied a tiny hand print that looked almost like something a human child would make, except for the deep nail prints. A second print lay beside the first. This formed a shape more like a tiny human footprint. Five toes on each print. These marks had been made by a raccoon recently. Detail was still unblemished in the tracks.

Jessica pulled out her tiny notebook and pencil and spent a few minutes drawing the prints and measuring them with her hands. She wrote “Procyon lotor - In soft mud in Little Swamp, 5:30 a.m.” at the top. Procyon lotor was the Latin name for raccoon. She didn’t know all of the Latin names for each animal in her area, but her mother kept telling her it would be useful if she learned them now since she planned to study wildlife science in college, when she would need to memorize all of the Latin names of the plants and animals.

Her mother studied biology in undergraduate school and then focused on botany for her master’s degree. Her job as a professor seemed like a really cool choice to Jessica, the teaching part anyway.

She walked on and looked for the prints of other animals. Lines of deer tracks weaved through the mud and leaves. They were easy to see. She could not decipher the prints made from one deer versus those from other deer, but she still tried.

She wrote down more in her book. She wrote the Latin name for deer, Odocoileus virginianus. Then she pulled out a small measuring tape. The prints each had two tear-shaped toes and two circles behind them. They were two hoof marks overlapping each other. Twenty-two inches later, there were two more. It went on like that for a ways. She measured the distance of a few of the pairs, wrote them all down, and then calculated the average, which was 21.5 inches. She also wrote down that she believed the prints had been made at dusk yesterday.

She shoved her notebook in her bag and walked on. The slope of the land increased as Jessica neared the small pool created by a spring. She could hear the soft trickle of water running over rocks and roots before she could see it. Her face felt cool from the excess moisture in the air.

When the pool stood in front of her, she sat down on a mossy rock so she could see the water below. Later, she would go swimming. The water felt unusually warm here, and she always wore her bathing suit into the woods in case she felt like taking a dip.

An albino deer she called Snowglare had come a few times to drink from the pool. She would sit for hours just to see him. It never grew old to watch the beautiful creature. And, as far as she knew, only she had seen the animal, though he glimmered like a bright beacon. She wondered why his eyes were so dark red. Albino animals have pink eyes, not red eyes.

She did a sense meditation, starting by counting ten sounds. She heard a few songbirds farther away that she couldn’t place by their voices alone. The leaves rattled in the wind and an occasional tree creaked. The water made a lovely trickling sound. And the quietest of all was the crinkling of dry leaves on the ground around her as insects crawled through them.

While maintaining her awareness of the sounds around her, she opened her mouth breathed in through her nose to smell the wet soil and new leaves. She could smell a hint of flowers so lovely, she wanted to open her eyes to see what they looked like. Sometimes that would pull her out of her meditation. This time she resisted. The soil smelled rich after the rain the night before. She could also smell an unmistakable, sweet smell that shouted spring.

She made sure she held all the sounds and smells at the same time before moving on to her sense of touch. Touch was easy for her. Every time the wind blew, she would remember to pay attention to it. The ground felt cool beneath her, but not unpleasant. And the sun that had only just risen, peered through the trees. She felt a hint of warmth from the sunlight playing on her face.

Before she even opened her eyes, she felt something. Eyes boring into her back? A heady smell? She felt rather than heard or smelled it. Slowly, she opened her eyes and even more slowly turned to look over her shoulder.

There, in a sliver of light sneaking through the trees, stood Snowglare. He seemed unafraid and calm, more like a beam of bright light than his solid form. Jessica tried to be the same. Breathe. She stayed in her sense meditation, trying to maintain her awareness of the forest around her.

She tried not to look right at the buck, but just beyond him. Looking right at a wild creature would scare it away. But Snowglare stared back at her unflinching, with his strange, crimson eyes.

He stepped closer, making her pulse quicken in fear. Why would a deer approach a human? Rabies? Food? Ah, she did have an apple. Very slowly, she pulled the apple out of her bag. Even more slowly, she moved her hand inch by inch to place it down as far as she could reach in front of her. Snowglare walked up boldly and bowed his head as if in thanks. Then he took one more step forward until he stood in front of the food. He bit down with a sharp crack.

Her heart pounded in her chest. Relax, breathe. She'd never been closer to a wild deer. He stood so close, she could reach out and touch his hoof or his muzzle. She saw scars and sharp nicks cut deeply into his antlers, as though he never hesitated to use them in a fight. He could butt her with them and kill her in an instant.

The buck finished his snack and licked his lips. He lifted his long neck and head, then walked a few steps uphill. Rather than fleeing as he normally did, he paused and turned to look back at her. He took a few more steps, then looked back again.

He looks almost humanlike with his gestures. Or maybe like a dog pleading for me to come.

Snowglare took a couple more steps forward, and then turned back again. He stomped one forefoot on the ground as if in frustration, making her jump in surprise. So much for keeping perfectly still. She feared he'd bolt because of her reaction, but he froze instead.

She felt a shiver run down her spine. Rather than give in to her fear, she bravely stood up to follow.

Wait a minute, did he just nod? Curious, she used her quiet walk to avoid startling him. She followed him up the hill to the top, where soft grass spread out on the forest floor. She passed by a tall oak tree she loved more than any other. She had spent hours upon hours sitting beneath its branches, trying to tempt song birds to feed from her hands.

The buck led her down a narrow path. White pine trees grew on either side, making the path seem enclosed, almost claustrophobic. She could walk noiselessly without much effort on the soft needles. It was her favorite part of the forest since her father would take her here to practice the art of silent walking in an ideal location.

She crossed under a tulip poplar tree that grew straight up from the base of the trunk but then curved down to form a living arch. She had never noticed this before and she wondered how the arch formed. She watched Snowglare step under the arch and then turn around to glance back, as though making sure she still followed.

Yes, I’m coming.

She ran her fingers along a cedar trunk next to the path, noticing for the first time that the trees became hairier and larger with each step in this part of the forest. The trees also grew farther and farther apart.

How strange! She felt annoyed with herself that she hadn’t noticed this before. These trees looked almost like a different species than regular white cedars. She carried a small guide to plants and animals in Virginia in her bag, so she pulled it out, still trying to keep Snowglare in sight. She wished she could stop and draw a picture of the delicate cedar leaves.

She thumbed quickly through the book. She couldn’t find any cedars with a two inch cone. The tree wasn’t there. Am I missing something? Have I discovered a new species? She imagined a tree named after her. She would call it Chamaecyparis abbotus. She giggled at the thought. She would have to check more field guides when she returned home. 

 

She walked on for a long time in a daze. She lost track of the hour, and then, the sun shone down from directly overhead. She needed to hurry back to be home in time to help her mom make her birthday cake.

But nothing could be as exciting as being led into the forest by a deer! Torn between duty and the thrill of the moment, she stopped walking to see how the buck would react if she refused to follow.

Snowglare stopped too, and turned around. His glance asked, “What is it?” She could almost hear a soft, airy whisper in her head. She felt her vision blur. Yes, I still have plenty of time. This is too exciting to quit now . . . just a little bit farther. Her feet carried her forward, as if by some force outside of herself.

 

She felt like time played a trick on her. Her legs felt heavy, but it seemed as if she had been walking an hour, tops. Her head felt weird and empty . . . like she moved through a cloud. Then, without warning, Snowglare jumped over a briar bush and dashed into the woods.

She felt her head clear instantly. What’s wrong with me? Am I coming down with something? Am I dehydrated? She turned to look for Snowglare, but he had evaporated. The stillness of the forest made her feel suddenly lonely and cold.

But what an incredible experience! She hadn’t exactly “caught” a deer by running, as had been her long-standing ambition, but this had been just as cool. Perhaps even more so. She had been led through the forest by a large, majestic buck.

She felt a little turned around but she could hear a soft trickle of water. If she hurried, she could still find her way back home in time for lunch. Good thing she’d already cleaned the house for the party. Her mom couldn't be too angry with her.

The path forked several times, so she used the sound of flowing water to guide her. The sound of water became louder and louder, too loud for any of the streams in this forest. After rounding a bend in the path, she saw a twenty foot waterfall up ahead.

 

Her eyes grew big to take it in. The most gorgeous waterfall cascaded onto a rock in the middle of a clear blue pool, a rainbow of colors shining from every droplet of water.



You can also download Chapter Two.

Who is the Main Character in the Dragonfly Series?

Many people who know me personally who read my Dragonfly series will immediately think the main character, Jessica, is me. This isn’t exactly true. I did come up with the general story line and the world, Nimbe, when I was fourteen with my best friend, Linsey, and we/I had the plot include the two of us. However, I changed Jessica’s character somewhat to be more suitable for where I want the story to go. Mostly, Jessica is who I aspire to be. Jessica is an extravert whereas I’m an introvert. This means she’s far more vocal than I would be in similar situations.  She also has more knowledge about the natural world than I did at that age. There are also little changes in what she likes. She plays the flute and I play the piano. She plays soccer on a team and I never did.

But there are also some similarities. I used to sneak out early in the morning to go to a swampy woods near my house to track animals and watch the birds when I was seventeen. I also would build shelters and attempt to sleep out there over night. My father didn’t mind this activity, but my mother would often send my father after me because she worried about crazy people lurking around. Also, my father got me interested in wilderness survival skills just like Jessica’s father did. 

Also, I kept a journal starting at the age of seven and added a separate, nature journal sometime in high school. In college, I discovered other people wrote notes in a small notebook throughout the day and then added them to a special, tidy notebook at night. I adopted this and maintained it though college. I didn't have Jessica's knowledge of the natural world or study habits until sometime in college, when I was 18 or 19.

 

Me at age 18.

Dragonfly: The First Spring (Book One)

Chapter One: Suburbia

 

 

The crimson eyes of the beast peered across the garden into the window of 151 Sweet Briar Avenue, Virginia. The girl’s image appeared on the other side; the one who wore the dragonfly necklace. The beast sent a message the girl would think of as her own, “I will wake up at dawn tomorrow and go for a walk in the woods.”

When the beast felt her receive the message, he faded back into shadows, scattering birds and squirrels farther into hiding with each step.

 

 

Jessica’s vision blurred and her mind emptied of all thoughts. It lasted only a moment, and then, she felt like herself again. She shook her head, thinking she must be coming down with something, and hoping she was not. She was not going to cancel her party tomorrow.

She glanced out the kitchen window, alerted by a group of blue jays screaming in terror. A dozen song birds flew wildly towards the house as though narrowly escaping death. She scanned the field and forest edge but didn’t see any hawks, cats, or foxes. Either she couldn’t see the danger, or it was a false alarm. A human might even cause such a reaction.

Her phone buzzed. She felt a pang of sympathy as she read that the boy her best friend, Eva, had been dating broke up with her. The text had been short and to the point, but she knew the truth. She and Ryan had gone out for almost six months and her friend had loved him. 

But now, Eva could come to her sleepover party. She needed to be there. All of their other friends would be there and they didn’t often have large parties such as this.

She opened the closet filled with cleaning supplies. Her mom wouldn’t be home for another hour to help and she hoped she would have time to finish everything. Her brother had refused repeatedly to vacuum. “It’s your birthday,” he told her. “You do it.” He killed time playing war games on the computer, but she couldn’t force him. He was two years older.

She wished her dad was home. He would have cured Peter’s laziness somehow. Jessica responded to Eva’s text, “OMG! That’s 2 bad! Wanna come over?” She hoped it sounded supportive enough.

Her friend started dating in sixth grade, and Jessica tried not to be jealous. Eva always managed to flirt with all the cutest boys and then within days, they became an item. Her friend was attractive, nice, and good at keeping a conversation interesting. She, on the other hand, had never dated. Boys didn’t look twice at her. Their eyes normally passed right over her and glued themselves onto Eva’s curvy figure and pretty face.

She could live vicariously through her friend most of the time. She could accept that, for now. But one day, very soon, she hoped to meet the right boy.

Eva sent her another message. “Yes, I want to. Can I bike over now?”

“Sure tho I hafta vacuum,” she replied. That meant she would have to hurry. She pulled out the vacuum and worked as fast as she could.

She only had the upstairs to finish when Eva opened the front door and walked in without knocking. Her family had befriended the Mitchell’s the day they moved in years ago and had been close ever since. It had been tough for them as the first African-American family in the neighborhood. “Hey!” Eva called.

“Be right there.” Jessica skipped down the stairs, but her face fell when she saw the tears streaked down Eva’s cheeks.

“Come, let’s sit down on the couch,” her voice had softened. She had to run to pull her flute off the couch before Eva sat down and crushed it. She pulled the instrument apart, piece by piece, and stored it back.

“So . . . how did it happen?”

“I don’t know,” Eva cried. “I thought everything was going fine. Then, he said he needed a break. He didn’t want to be tied down over summer break. It just doesn’t make sense to me. I really liked Ryan.” It had been her longest relationship yet.

“I know.”

“I think it’s over for good. Besides, even if I could get him back, I’ve heard it’s bad to be with a guy you keep breaking up with. This isn’t our first break-up, after all.”

“You’ll find someone better. I know you will. Didn’t you always say he criticized you a lot anyway?”

“Yeah, you’re right . . . ” She paused for a long moment. “We don’t have to talk about him.” She looked around the house. “It looks really neat in here. What happened?”

Jessica laughed. “I’m cleaning. I have to – for the slumber party tomorrow.” Her parents weren’t the neatest people in the world. They both worked demanding jobs that didn’t have set hours.

“Right. I guess Sarah and Jasmine have maids so they would be horrified if it were messy.”

“Exactly.”  

“So do you need me to do anything to help? Please don’t make me clean though. Ugh . . . But I have some board games I could bring.”

“Sure, games would be good. And can you come over early and help us decorate? My mom is buying balloons and some other stuff.”

Eva grinned. “I feel like I’m eight all over again.”

“Hey! Come on, we can still have birthday parties. Why not? Everyone is excited about it. Want to see the Facebook page?”

“I’ve seen it - you’re right. I’m just messing with you.”

They heard the front door swing open. “Hi girls.” Doctor Linda Abbott, her mom, carried in a box of papers to grade. “I have more stuff in the car. Can you go grab it, Jessie?”

“Sure thing.” Jessica jumped up and went out to the car. Eva followed. They carried in pink and purple balloons and a sign that read, “Happy Birthday!” She grabbed her mom’s laptop too, and put it in the office, where her brother still sat at the computer.

“Peter!” She said in a disapproving tone. “You’ve been on there all day.”

“No I haven’t.” He replied in a monotone voice that meant he concentrated more on his game than on speaking. He sounded a bit uncertain when he asked, “I went to school today, didn’t I?”

“Grrr . . .” She stomped her feet out of the room. She had wanted to use the computer to check her e-mail and Facebook, but he’d hogged it all afternoon.

Eva laughed at her when she walked back into the living room, still looking angry. “Boys never grow up, do they?”

They heard a buzzing noise and both pulled out their phones at the same time.

Eva said, “It’s dad. I’d better go.”

“Okay. And don’t worry about Ryan, okay? You'll find someone better - probably next week.”

Eva gave her a hug. “Thanks for letting me come over on such short notice.”

Her friend left and Jessica sighed. Poor Eva.

She climbed the stairs to her room and sat down at her desk. She pulled open the top drawer and took out a black book. Inside, colorful drawings of leaves, flowers, feathers, skulls, and animals filled the first half of the book.

She grabbed a small spiral bound notepad out of her back pocket. It had notes of observations she had made that day. She copied her notes from the little spiral bound book, to the unlined, black book. She wrote the date on the top of the page then drew a picture of the clouds that day. Then she wrote about a mockingbird she had seen steal bread from a trash can outside of her middle-school campus. She included the calls it had made as best as she could transcribe to English. The bird had repeated each call at least three times before moving on to the next phrase.

She swiveled her chair and ran her finger along a bookshelf crammed full of colorful field guides. She pulled one out on bird behavior. After finding what she searched for, she wrote in her book, “Mimus polyglottos,” the Latin name for mockingbird, and “Male, likely calling to attract a mate or warning other birds to stay away from its territory. Note: During mating season, only the male mockingbird sings.”

The front door swung open again. Her father, Richard Abbott, walked in with dinner. The smell of Chinese take-out wafted through the air. “I hope you all are hungry,” he called so enthusiastically, she could hear him even from her bedroom upstairs. She heard Peter groan loudly from the office.

She joined her parents in the kitchen.

“So I sold one today, Linda.” Her dad worked as a real estate agent and each sale was an exciting event to him.

“Oh, that’s wonderful, Darling.”

Jessica poured water for the whole family and sat down at the kitchen table. Her stomach growled plus she wanted to hurry up and eat so she could use the computer before Peter finished doing the dishes – not that he ever finished chores quickly.

“Peter,” her mom called.

No answer.

“Peter! Dinner!”

“Just a minute,” he responded. The clock ticked by. Jessica and her parents dished out the food and started eating. Her brother often joined them for dinner late so they learned long ago to start eating without him. Fifteen minutes later, Peter slouched onto his chair.

“Are you ready for your exams, Jessica?” Her dad asked her since her brother received straight A’s without her parents egging him on. She never understood how he did it when he wasted almost all his free time on the computer.

“Well . . . I need to study,” she replied honestly. “That’s what Sunday is for, right? It’s my birthday tomorrow.” She looked across the table at her father’s hazel eyes.

“Yes, that’s fine. Your grades have been good so far this year. I was just trying to make conversation. On a different note . . . I’ve signed us all up for the wilderness survival camp again this summer. It will be just like the one last year . . . a week of outdoor adventures. No computers. No phones. No television.”

“Dad!” Peter pushed back his chair. “Why do we have to do this every year? I told you. I don’t want to go!”

“Peter, these are important skills to know!”

“For who?”

“For backpackers, campers, hikers, bikers, and travelers, for instance. And it’s important for us too. Even if we never have to use these skills in a life or death situation, it still builds character and confidence.”

Their mom added, “Besides, it’s the one time each year that we really get to spend time with each other. As a family.”

“It’s fun,” Jessica pleaded. “We can make it fun.” She hated it that her brother rebelled so hard against their family vacations each year. But their trips were particularly unusual . . . it wasn’t just camping. They attended a series of courses on how to live in the wilderness. They learned how to make knives, pottery, and leather . . . how to purify water, build shelters, and start fires without matches or lighters. And, they would learn how to find and prepare food in the wild. There would be several instructors from the area and other nature-loving families attending.

She couldn’t believe Peter didn’t like the courses. She added, “Come on. Any other boy would love that stuff.”

“I doubt it,” he shot back. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the subject matter. It was that he didn’t like being cooped up with his family, and other Neanderthals, as he called them, for a whole week and isolated from his computer games.

They finished their meal in silence.

Should You Use a Pen Name?

I quit my day job, which was working as an environmental planner for the State of Virginia with the National Flood Insurance Program, which means I feel more able to use my actual name for my writing. My reasoning probably wasn't sound in the first place . . . before I left, I told several colleagues that I wrote teen fantasy novels and most of them thought it was cool and told me it was a popular genre to pick. A few people who already didn't like me thought it was unprofessional, but now I realize WHO CARES? Everyone has hobbies. This is mine.

 

But now that I'm missing out on my half of our household income, we're all kind-of feeling the financial crunch. I either have to make money writing, go back to a different job, or we need to move. Since none of us want me to go back to a full-time job, my focus is on writing, though we'll probably move too.

Book Two - The Opening

Eva woke up and cried. Today, one year ago, her best friend, Jessica, vanished. Today also was Jessica’s fifteenth birthday – or would have been. Everyone believed she had been kidnapped, murdered, and buried in the muck of the swamp somewhere.

She rolled out of bed. She and Peter, Jessie’s adopted brother, planned to go to Jessica’s favorite spot in the woods in remembrance. Before she left the house, she splashed water on her face to remove any trace of tears on her dark skin. She had to act strong for Peter. She needed to help him move on.

 

 

“Nooo!” Jessica stood in the Sahl Desert watching in outrage as Ragnar, who she had believed to be an ally, lifted her dragonfly necklace over his head. She’d made the stupid mistake of believing him. He told her his necklace was the real one and that hers was a fake replica – whatever that meant. A necklace was a necklace and they had looked identical to her . . . until his necklace dissolved into black dust in her hands.

Next to her, ready to spring into action, stood four Nighthawks, who were a band of warriors fighting against Queen Desdemona. Those same Nighthawks had brought her to meet Ragnar, she believed, so he could be her teacher, but it seemed they didn’t know him as well as they thought. Naomi, her closest friend at the moment and Tiergan’s sister, stood away from all the commotion.

She stepped forward to wrestle her necklace from the traitor’s grasp, but Tiergan beat her to it. His hand snaked out and gripped Ragnar’s wrist. “Don’t you dare, old man. It belongs to her.”

A second later, Faolan, her fox companion, leaped into the air, snatched the necklace in his teeth, and landed gracefully on the ground. He trotted up to Jessica with the gold chain secured in his mouth, his silver tail swooshing back and forth in pride.

“Thank you, Little One.” She dropped the necklace back where it belonged . . . around her neck, as she created some distance between herself and Ragnar. She felt like an idiot. Her father had warned her never to remove the necklace. She hadn’t known at the time what he meant. She assumed he’d only acted melodramatic to make his gift seem more than cheap jewelry.

She surveyed the group. The Nighthawks looked tense, but since they were warriors, that was their typical state. Ragnar had a smirk on his face as he watched Jessica glare back at him. Tiergan still stood about an inch away from the old man and looked about ready to rip his throat out. “Thanks, Tiergan. Your coddling is always most welcome.”

He glanced at her, and the tension seemed to break. He stepped back and winked at her in response, which Jessica was unhappy to note caused an odd flutter in her chest. She and Tiergan had an awkward relationship. He attempted to kill the boy she was in love with, he claimed in order to save her life. She had yet to see whether that was true or not, but he definitely saved her life when hunters chased her and he did heal Faolan of a broken bone. She hated the fact that he always appeared when she found herself in a sticky situation.

Still laughing, Ragnar said, “At least she has protective friends, though slow to act they may be.”

            Tiergan put his arm across her shoulders, which made her feel small and violated. She forced herself to stay rooted where she stood. “Jessica will do well at Ashrogof. She is incredibly bright and I’ve watched her do amazing things. Please give her a chance.”

            Ragnar turned his icy gaze to Jessica. “Do you agree, young lady?”

            “No. I don’t want to stay here in this barren land with you,” she retorted. Was Ragnar against them or not? He certainly looked creepy with a crooked grin and long, yellow teeth.

            Derek broke his usual silence, “If I may say so, Sir, she hasn’t been very long in this world. She is weary from her long journey and doesn’t know anything about Ashrogof. She needs our protection and encouragement. Any youth that goes through as many near death situations as she has of late will be a little shaken. In a safe, comfortable environment, I know she will thrive.”

Jessica glanced at Derek, surprised that he, too, wanted her to stay with Ragnar. She liked the older man, but why was he treating her like a child now? So what if there was some truth to his statement?

“Enough. This is my life, we’re talking about. All I have wanted to do since coming to Zatar is return home, but what you’re saying is that I’m supposed to be here? My adopted father is actually my biological father and he wants me to be here? Why didn’t he tell me? And where is my biological mother?”

            She had only been in Zatar for a few months and she never even meant to come here. She went for a walk on her birthday in Virginia through the woods, where she’d been abandoned as a baby. An albino deer, Snowglare, led her through a portal to Zatar, another realm. Her life had been one constant roller coaster since entering the strange world.

            Ragnar replied, “Yes, your father meant for you to come here. Your biological mother is here, in Zatar.”

            “She is? Where?” She glanced around as though she might be hiding behind one of the stone and clay buildings.

            “She isn’t in the Sahl Desert but you will meet her if you agree to stay.”

            She glared at him again. How dare he taunt her like that? She recalled a prediction Lady Foxgloves had given her during her stay at Agnof Keep. She told her she would be reunited with loved ones. That could mean her biological mother. She wondered if her mother looked like her. Did they share similar interests and personalities? She knew absolutely nothing about her, yet the father who raised her could have told her. He’d been lying to her the entire time. She felt angry at her dad, but mostly confused.

            “There is much we can teach you . . . we will focus using the paranormal arts in the natural world. You will meet others with your abilities, but training with us won’t be easy. Our teaching methods are not for the feint of heart. You must show commitment and persistence. You must keep your body and mind sharp. If you fail to progress, you will be asked to leave.”

            Jessica always loved a good challenge. She turned to look up at Tiergan. Why, she didn't know. His opinion hardly mattered to her.

            He answered before her mouth formed the question. “I studied with Ragnar, Jessica. He’s the best teacher anywhere.” He looked as though he wanted to say more, but held is tongue.

            She caught Umi’s gaze and she nodded at her in support. Naomi looked warily back at Jessica. This was her first time meeting Ragnar as well.

            She sighed. “Fine. I’ll stay. It isn’t exactly like I have a choice anyway . . . ”

            Ragnar said, “That isn’t good enough. You have to want to stay.”

            She glanced at Derek and he seemed to be trying to signal to her. She wanted to meet her mother, and if she needed to stay to do that, then she would. “I do want to stay.”

            Ragnar stroked his white beard.

            “You will wake up before the sun rises every day. You will talk when I say talk and be silent when I say silence. You will not complain or protest. You will be pushed to great extremes . . . those of the body and of the mind.  Are you sure you’re prepared? Do you promise to obey my every command and those of the other instructors?”

            She lifted her eyebrows at him in disbelief. “Yes, I will.” As long as you are not unreasonable.

            “All right. That will have to do for now. Please keep in mind you will not be officially accepted into my mentoring program until you go through the trial and the ceremony. Bring the horses this way.”