Deep Breath... Here Goes

OK. This is terrifying. Big time terrifying. It ranks right up there with monkey masks and faces in windows and cans of beets. Well, maybe cans of beets are more disgusting than scary, but you know what I mean.

I'm going to post a sample of the first chapter (along with prologue) today. It feels like ripping off a band aid. An entrenched, three year old band aid that has grown to my skin.

In advance, for those few kind souls that actually trudge along and read this thing, it's a middle grade/YA book for girls called The Mystery of Cold Springs. It's a mystery/adventure about three sisters.

OK. Here goes.

Prologue

The group of women walked swiftly across the tiled floor, their heels clicking, echoing into the blackness. Alicia followed happily after them, content with her new companions and eager to see the secret place they promised to show her.

“How beautiful,” she marveled, gazing around the cavern in awe.

The women laughed softly in unison as the tallest one stepped forward. A large hat hid most of her face, but her deep blue eyes seemed to glow as she gazed piercingly through the darkness, “We’re so happy you could be here tonight.”

Alicia smiled again and looked down toward the sound of the cold, rushing water. She glanced at the women in blissful ignorance, pleased as she heard her own voice echo back to her from the darkness, “I had no idea this was here.”

The woman with blue eyes blinked her long lashes, examining the girl like a scientist examines an insect, “Would you care to see something else extraordinary?”

Alicia nodded eagerly, her golden hair shining brightly in the torch light.

The woman’s eyes crinkled with a frigid smile as she wrapped her long fingers around a wooden box, laying it on the ground in the middle of the women.

“Now, Alicia, if you would be so kind as to stand right here,” she grasped her shoulders and positioned the girl directly beside the box.

Alicia, eager to please, blindly obeyed.

The women closed into a tight circle, the rushing water echoing on the faraway walls.

“Now,” the tall woman instructed soothingly, “hold very still. I’m sure we all want this to be as painless as possible.”

Alicia’s eyes filled with confusion, “What?”

With one smooth flash, the tall figure withdrew a long blade from her robe, her long fingers curled tightly around it.

“Wait! Nooooo!” Alicia screamed, her large eyes pleading for mercy as she backed away.

The tall woman smiled calmly. “I told you to hold still,” she hissed.

Alicia’s innocent face twisted in horror. There was a flash of metal as piercing, girlish shrieks echoed through the darkness. Then, only silence.

The tall woman smiled as she wiped the splashes of crimson from her pale face, “Now ladies, let’s begin.”





Chapter 1: The Move

Nora Charles pushed the moving boxes beside her to the other side of the backseat. Her stomach clenched with nausea on every curve of the old mountain highway. She swept her sand colored hair away from her clammy forehead and readjusted her long legs uncomfortably. Despite the fact that she had turned 16 last month, her two older sisters still forced her into riding submissively in the backseat. She seethed in the humidity, pushing her knees into the back of the driver’s seat.

Amelia clenched the steering wheel and shifted forward in her seat, “Ow, Nora! That hurts!”

Nora smirked, “I know, that’s why I did it.”

Amelia grumbled something incoherent and accelerated quickly.

“I’m seriously gonna puke!” Nora yelled as they rounded another curve and the boxes slid into her once again. She peered nervously out the window, wishing passionately that the old mountain highway had guard rails.

“There’s nothing wrong with my driving. You should have taken Dramamine,” Amelia stated, unsympathetic to her younger sister’s pleas. She was ironically non-peace loving, despite her middle child position in the Charles family.

Clara, the oldest of the sisters at age 18, snorted, her hazel eyes flashing authoritatively as she eyed the speedometer cautiously, “Please. You suck at driving in these mountains!”

Amelia tossed her large yellow curls defiantly, “I’m in complete control, I’ve always had cat-like reflexes. Besides, mom and the moving van are probably already there, and we need to hurry.”

Nora huffily pushed the boxes back to their side of the car and leaned forward, desperate to feel a breeze from the meager air conditioner in the front seat. She suddenly wished she had chosen to ride in the large moving van with Mrs. Charles and the family dog, Fat George. But her mother left at six that morning, declaring the girls too slow to wait on.

“Can I please ride in the front now? It’s sweltering back here!” Nora declared.

“No, I can’t take the time to pull over,” Amelia answered.

Nora glared at her sisters and poked her knees into the backseat again. “I can’t remember being this hot,” she grumped as she cleaned a smudge from her black rimmed glasses, “How far are we? It’s been hours already.”

“We should be there soon,” Clara answered evenly.

Amelia watched Nora cleaning her glasses in the rearview mirror, “Why do you wear those goggles anyway? Contacts would look way better.”

Nora sighed seriously, “I’m not a fan of inserting foreign objects into my eyes. And they are NOT goggles.”

“You’re right. They look like bee keeper glasses,” Amelia stated.

Nora drew a long breath to maintain her calm, trying to swallow down annoyance at the fact they had listened to the same Arctic Monkeys c.d. for the past two hours. She liked them, but as Amelia kept pushing the repeat button on I Bet You Look Good on the Dance Floor, Nora’s patience edged into the red.

“Let’s listen to some of my cd’s now,” she grabbed her backpack off the floorboard, “I brought the Andrews Sisters, Count Basie…”

Amelia shook her head, her gaudy hoop earrings flashing angrily in the sunlight, “Absolutely not. I am not listening to that grandma music. Your taste in music is so gross; no one wants to listen to that ‘large band’ crap.”

Nora glared at the back of her sister’s fuzzy hair, “For the millionth time, it’s ‘big band,’ Idiot.”

“Idiot,” Amelia mocked in a high pitched voice.

“Will you two shut up already?” Clara commanded.

Nora’s disposition soured hot and humid as she ignored Clara and poked Amelia’s shoulder, “Are you still mad about that stupid trophy? I’ve already apologized twice.”

“You broke it,” Amelia stated, her voice dropping into a low accusatory tone.

“Not on purpose! It was an accident,” Nora insisted.

“That trophy was special!” Amelia bellowed, her hands clenched angrily on the steering wheel.

Nora had been in charge of carrying Amelia’s box of trophies to the moving van earlier that morning. Amelia had spelled out very simple instructions, “Do NOT drop these.” But, Fat George, their exuberant 30 pound schnauzer, had other ideas as he raced between Nora’s feet. Nora watched the box fall, the world chaotic in slow motion. A large trophy with a gold W engraved on it crashed to the ground, snapping in half.

Nora wanted to be sorry. She wanted to feel badly for Amelia. But as she stared at Amelia’s big blonde hair, she mostly just wanted to slap her.

“What’s the big deal? You’ve got hundreds of them!” Nora stated, feeling almost immediately that she was poking a bear.

Amelia turned the wheel sharply and the car swerved insanely, veering onto the narrow shoulder of the highway and screeched to a halt. Clara braced herself like a cat, feet on the dashboard and fingers gripping the armrests. Nora pushed the boxes off of her lap and peered out the window, the mountain side dropping steeply beside them.

Amelia sat very still, “I will NOT drive any further while she blasphemes about my trophies.”

Clara took her feet off the dashboard, her normally tolerant disposition evaporated, “Are you crazy! You’re not driving anywhere ever again, you moronic fart! Get out, I’m driving.”

Amelia crossed her arms resolutely, “Not until she apologizes.”

“I already apologized! And you don’t even know what ‘blaspheme’ means anyway! Do you?” Nora blustered, suspecting her dignity was being squelched.

“It means, um, that has nothing to do with it! Apologize again!” Amelia demanded.

Clara reached over and pinched a giant plug of Amelia’s arm, “I said OUT!”

Amelia’s one track determination was not deterred. She whirled around facing Nora, “Do you know what that W stood for on that trophy?”

“Um, I don’t know. It could stand for a lot of things; Wimp, Wuss, WEASLE!” Nora baited, too inflamed by the blistering September heat to even consider defusing the situation.

“NO! It stood for Winner! It was my favorite trophy!” Amelia railed, her humid curly hair frizzing in the sizzling heat.

Clara and Nora gazed at their angry middle sister, coldly unmoved by her hysterics.

“Well, obviously! I’m the winner!” Amelia reiterated, waiting for a reaction.

“Are you done? Is there even the remotest possibility that you’re going to calm down?” Clara asked, her arms folded sternly across her chest.

Amelia slumped slightly, “I won it in the fourth grade. Remember? Dad coached my basketball team.”

The car grew tense and silent. Nora was suddenly filled with guilt as an old familiar feeling of longing came back. They all missed Mr. Charles painfully, even though they barely spoke of him now.

Clara patted Amelia’s shoulder, uncharacteristically sympathetic, “I bet Nora can glue it back together. Remember when she fixed Mom’s vase? She’s good at those things.”

Amelia slumped in her seat, suddenly deflated and sad.

"Yeah,” Nora agreed, giving Amelia a cautious pat on the back, “I’ll fix it and you’ll never be able to tell it was broken.”

“You promise?” Amelia sniffed.

“Cross my heart,” Nora agreed as she pushed another box off her leg.

“Alright, then I’m sorry about scaring you guys just now. I really didn’t mean to stop that close to the edge,” Amelia admitted.

“That’s ok,” Clara mothered firmly, “but you’re still not driving.”

Clara settled behind the wheel and Amelia graciously turned one air conditioning vent toward the backseat for Nora, subtly letting her know all was forgiven. The curving two lane highway continued its wind through the green canopied mountains. Nora watched with great interest as they passed hillside farms and small stone cottages nestled beside flowing creeks. An old green highway sign with buckshot holes in it read, “Cold Springs, population 950.”

They passed a dilapidated gas station and much to Nora’s delight, a grocery store called Piggly Wiggly. The highway made a sharp turn and began a steep descent into a valley. They rounded another turn and found themselves in the heart of Cold Springs. The Victorian downtown buildings were molded ornately with a bizarre mix of gargoyles and gingerbread. The main street was barely wide enough for an oncoming car to squeeze by.

“What the…” Clara yelled as a turquoise VW van drove by within inches of their car, “Stupid driver!”

Nora was too enthralled by their new home town to pay attention to road conditions. The downtown looked as it did when the town was first built. Tiny shops lined the main street, their front windows awash with colorful glass displays, hand sewn skirts, and anything else the eccentric locals might choose to sell. Many of the shop owners lived on the second floors, the upper balconies lined with patio tables, baskets of geraniums and twinkle lights.

“Get on your own side of the road! Moron!” Clara yelled at another passing car.

Nora spotted a group of grizzled men with long beards and tie died shirts playing their guitars in the park. A middle-aged woman with curly red hair pounded merrily on a bongo hanging around her neck as she danced around them.

Amelia clutched the oversized pink pearls around her neck, “Holy crap. It’s an entire town full of freaks.”

A large group of teenage boys with black shaggy hair and tattoos skate boarded down the sidewalk, flicking their cigarette butts onto the ground in front of a quant quilting store with lace window curtains.

Clara hunched seriously over the steering wheel, applying all her mental efforts to keeping their car from being scratched by oncoming traffic, “They should make this street one way!”

Nora rolled her window down, leaning her head out to get a better look at this Victorian village they would now call home. A woman with a Mohawk and a t-shirt that read, Bella Figura walked down the sidewalk and peered at them over the tops of her large sunglasses.

“Oh I like it here,” Nora decided as she peered with interest at a little boy walking a pink poodle.

“Yeah. You would,” Amelia scoffed, “I bet there’s not even a mall in this stupid town. I’m going to be doing a lot of online shopping.”

Clara carefully steered the car up the winding streets and made a left on Mimosa Lane. They passed a small blue bungalow, a yellow gingerbread cottage and came to a dead end in front of their new home. The moving van was parked precariously in the narrow driveway that was initially intended for nothing wider than a horse and buggy.

“Wow,” Nora breathed, gazing at their new house.

The new house was really a very old Victorian house. It was two stories tall, with a large front porch and bay windows facing out onto the street. Peeling blue paint, pink gingerbread, and mimosa trees framed the house. Mrs. Charles opened the screen door on the front porch and greeted her daughters.

“Don’t you love it? It has so much potential!” Mrs. Charles exclaimed, her long brown hair tied in a bun.

Amelia snorted, “Potential is just another way of saying craptastic.”

Nora rolled up her window and got out of the car. She admired the yellow rose bushes along the stone pathway and the light blue ceiling of the front porch.

“This place is sweet!” she exclaimed approvingly, hugging her mother.

Mrs. Charles kissed the top of her head, “I knew you’d like it. I’m glad to see you girls arrived in one piece.”

“Just barely,” Nora muttered.