Guardian Angel by Katie L. Carroll

The strange whooshing sound would have woken Serafina if she had been asleep. But she never slept well when her parents were out for the night. At the age of 16, she was far too old to be scared of the dark, but that didn’t keep her from leaving the TV on in her room all night long, door closed tight against the world.

At first Sera thought the sound was from the TV, which droned on in the background while she read in bed. She had avoided the psychological thriller on her nightstand in favor of a romance novel because she was in the mood for something light, or so she told herself.

She muted the TV and titled her ear toward the bedroom door. “Whoosh…whoosh.  Whoosh…whoosh.” It was muted and slow, like it was coming from outside.

I wish Addie had been able to stay over tonight, Sera thought as she played with the silver cross around her neck.

Instead her best friend had ditched her for a date. Understandable—Sera would have done the same if the roles had been reversed—but she could have used the company.

Underarms damp with sweat, she threw off the covers and slipped out of bed, her bare feet sticking loudly with each step on the laminate floor. The door opened in silence, and Sera barely breathed. She clutched the molding and peeked down the hall.

“Whoosh, whoosh. Whoosh, whoosh.” It was louder than before, and coming at a more rapid pace.

Down the other end of the small ranch house, light spilled from the kitchen doorway. Sera’s heart thumped in her chest; she hadn’t left on any lights aside from the one in her room.

Maybe my parents are home early, she wondered…she hoped.

But then she would have heard the groan of the old garage door. Surely they would have come to check on her by now. Or at least the sound of them having a nightcap would be floating down the hallway instead of the “whoosh, whoosh” that continued to grow louder and faster.

An unearthly breeze blew back her hair and tickled the tiny hairs on her arm, raising goose bumps all over her body. Oddly, the cross felt hot against her cold skin.

She should call 911, but she had left her phone charging in the kitchen. Car headlights reflected off the Yankees poster on her wall. She stood perfectly still until the lights disappeared. It was probably just a neighbor. Lucky for her, the poster reminded her of the souvenir bat she had gotten at the last game she had gone to.

Sera’s sweaty hands fumbled around her closet for the bat. Her foot bumped into something hard, and the bat clattered to the floor. Her body tensed, but the sound from the kitchen was much louder than any noise she was making.

“Whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh.”

She peeked down the hallway again to find the light blazing and a stormy wind sweeping through the house. A streak of anger bolstered her as she gripped the bat tight in her hands.

How dare someone break into her house? she thought and made the snap decision to confront the intruder, damned be the consequences.

Disregarding any pretense at being quiet or stealthy, Sera marched down the hall. Her heart rate wasn’t the only thing that increased with each step as the sound was now coming at an alarming pace. Hair blew all around her face in a crazy swirl.

Sera brought the bat over her head and charged into the kitchen.

“Whooshwhoosh whooshwhoosh.”

The light exploded in her eyes, forcing them closed. The whooshing sound rang out so loud it reverberated through her teeth and bones. Sera fell to the ground and threw the bat into the light, but it was lost to the brightness.

“Whooshwhooshwhooshwhoosh.”

A shadow broke through the light. It moved up and down with the noise, and seemed be the source of the light.

Sera groped around the floor, looking for anything that might help her. The cross burned the skin just above her chest. Ripping the chain from her neck, she flung the necklace at the figure.

“Whooshwhoo—”

The kitchen turned dark and silent. The brief stint of bravery gone, Sera remained on the floor, stunned by the sudden change. Her chest heaved up and down and began to calm. A cheesy sitcom laugh-track broke her out of the stupor.

She stood and as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she spied a woman on the ground a few feet away. Sera stepped into the kitchen. Moonlight from the back slider illuminated the woman’s features. They were so beautiful an ache rose in Sera’s chest as she stared.

Pale, almost see-through wings framed the woman’s figure—no, not a woman. An angel.

The shattering of glass ripped Sera’s gaze from the stunning face. A man careened through the broken glass, grabbed Sera, and held a knife to her throat. The angel vanished and Sera was left alone with the intruder.

***

Katie L. Carroll is a mother, writer, editor, and speaker. She began writing at a very sad time in her life after her 16-year-old sister, Kylene, unexpectedly passed away. Since then writing has taken her to many wonderful places, real and imagined. She wrote her YA fantasy ELIXIR BOUND so Kylene could live on in the pages of a book. Katie is also the author of the picture app THE BEDTIME KNIGHT and a contributor to THE GREAT CT CAPER, a serialized mystery for young readers. She lives not too far from the beach in a small Connecticut city with her husband and sons. For more about Katie, visit her website at www.katielcarroll.com.

A Christmas Scare

A memorable Christmas scare that left us trembling

We awoke on Christmas day to a quiet house. Our kids had dispersed this holiday and left us alone to celebrate with each other. After a strong cup of coffee and a light breakfast, we illuminated the tree, turned on Jingle Bells, and opened our gifts. The late morning sun shone in through the curtains, reminding us that although December, this might prove to be a nice day.

Later, our daughter, who now lived in Rhode Island, called to wish us a Merry Christmas. We spoke to her, her husband and her two kids. They gushed over the gifts we’d sent and told us how much they wished they could see us. Blankets of snow kept them snuggled inside by the fireplace, unable to venture out. They described a perfect white Christmas.

We, on the other hand, left our little house to visit friends. We spent the afternoon sipping eggnog near our friends’ fireplace and sharing stories of Christmases past. Although sunny outside, the temperature had dropped to the single digits. Like us, our friends were celebrating their holiday alone. Their children lived in Atlanta, but had decided not to make the yearly trek to their parent’s house with gifts, kids and casseroles.

At about 5pm we arrived back to a quiet, dark house, looking forward to an evening in front of the television, watching old movies. My husband loved the AMC channel, particularly old horror movies—Lon Chaney and Vincent Price.

I decided to take a shower before we settled in.

With soap in my hair and water running down my back, a ringing sound caught my attention—a sound very much like the doorbell, but I rejected that thought because we lived deep in the woods. Our driveway made a circuitous mile-long route from the street to our sidewalk. The neighbors resided long distances away, nowhere in view. No one would ring our doorbell on Christmas night. Impossible.

Ding, dong, ding, dong. The sound persisted. I called for my husband. No response. What in the world was going on? Ding, dong, ding, dong.

I rinsed the soap from my hair and turned off the shower. That’s when I realized my husband was also in the shower in his bathroom. I raced in that direction and said,

“Someone’s at the door.”

“What? No way. Not tonight.”

“Yes, the doorbell is ringing. Listen!”

I ran to my closet to throw on some clothes.

The doorbell continued its persistent ding, dong, ding, dong. Geez, wouldn't whomever was out there just give up and decide we were out of town?

Once dressed, I peered outside. By now the sky was dark. A car crept up the driveway with its lights turned off. My heart froze.

My husband showed up, wrapped with a towel around his waist and carrying his 12- gauge-double-barrel shotgun, clearly ready to blow someone’s head off.

“What are you doing?”

“Thieves often case houses during the holidays. That car is definitely up to something.”

“But, you might shoot your leg off or worse still murder someone.” Fear gripped me.

The car crept back down the driveway near the house, lights off. Two shadowy figures emerged from the backseat. They approached the house.

“Stay here,” my husband ordered.

“Be careful,” I said with a shaky voice.

“I’m only going to scare them.” He looked pretty frightening, his hair stood up on end with soap still clinging to each tress, barefoot and with his towel wrapped at a rakish angle. Water dripped off him on his way out.

I trailed behind him. The dark figures were walking up our sidewalk as if in slow motion. One kept turning back to the car, which had begun to creep back up the hill toward the street to a position to watch and wait.

My husband went out the side door. He lifted the gun with one hand and held the towel with the other. “Stop or I’ll shoot.”

The two figures halted as if slapped. The taller one removed the hood from the hoodie.

A voice came from the car, which had once again eased back close to the house, apparently to retrieve its passengers.

“Dad, it’s us.”

I gasped.

My husband called for them to stop. But he had lowered the gun barrel and seemed to be holding the towel closer to him.

“Dad, it's us, Mary, Pete and the girls. We wanted to surprise you.”

I threw open the door. Our daughter, son-in-law and two grand children emerged from the darkness.

They had flown in from Rhode Island as a surprise. A big Christmas surprise, they explained in shaky voices. Instead they’d nearly frightened the two of us to death.

My husband, who by now was clutching the towel for dear life, standing as he was nearly naked in front of his daughter and two grand daughters, shivered from the cold and said, “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot your heads off.”

They began laughing, explaining how they had called us from the Boston airport this morning to wish us a merry Christmas. Laughing more. “We didn’t tell you we were about to board a plane and would see you in a few hours,” our son-in-law said. But, we didn’t find it funny. Living secluded in the woods and being surprised by a strange car creeping down our driveway like that. Nope, not funny at all.

Once everyone settled down with a warm drink, we relaxed and enjoyed the rest of that Christmas evening, grateful the day had not ended in a tragedy.

***

Joan C. Curtis recently released the e-Murderer, a psychological thriller. 

One Dark Night by Meg Gray

All she could see was black…

The football game was a total waste.

Erika Evans quit shouting, “Let’s go D-fense,” with the other girls on her cheer squad. What was the point? The score was 45-0 and the spectators were bailing out under a rapidly falling sheet of rain. Even her parents left at halftime with Shelby and Mitchell in tow.

The players couldn’t stay on their feet and the other team was going to get through the line whether she screamed the words or mouthed them. So, she decided to save her vocal chords the abuse.

The game had quickly turned from football to mud-ball. Shaking her black and gold Hornet pom-poms was hardly worth the effort past the first quarter. But she did another high kick and mouthed, “First down. Players on the field moved from their formation and the next thing Erika knew there was quiet groan of disappointment rolling out from the small crowd still in the stands.

Fumble.

Finally, the game ended and Erika hustled out of the stadium. She couldn’t wait to get home. On board the cheer bus, she punched her pillow and propped it against the cold, rain-dotted window. The rain had pulled every last curl out of her head-topping ponytail and soaked her uniform, which was now wadded up in a ball at the bottom of her travel bag. Her dry change of clothes had eased the chill from her bones, but didn’t eliminated it. She pulled a blanket up around her chin.

Through the window beside her she saw Cassandra still in her uniform, holding hands with her senior football player boyfriend Mark. She tossed her limp ponytail from side to side as they talked. Yvette was next to her, eyes roaming the other players looking for what Erika assumed was her next catch, since the last guy she dated had dumped her after graduation and left for college.

Ms. Greene, the cheer coach, hurried through the drizzly rain and flashed five fingers, giving Cassandra and Yvette the five minute warning as she passed. Erika closed her eyes, ready to go home when a loud thud hit her window.

She pulled her pillow away and saw Caden, rain turning his blond hair dark. He smiled, his lopsided grin bringing a ray of sunshine to her heart. She pressed her hand to the glass, over his.

“I love you.” The words silently passed from his lips through the window.

“I love you too,” she mouthed back those frightfully intimate words they’d started saying to one another. The same words that had started the latest mother-daughter standoff. Last night when Erika had said good-night to Caden and included the words I love you, her mother had shot her a deep, wrinkly forehead look. Erika knew what her mother was trying to say, You’re too young to understand love. Her mother didn’t get it that Erika was old enough to have big feelings for a boy. In her mother’s eyes she was still a little kid.

Erika was giving her the extreme cold shoulder as payback.

“Oh, how cute,” Yvette giggled from where she sat down in the seat in front of Erika. “The boy next door is saying goodbye.” She giggled again and Erika ignored her. For whatever reason, her friends didn’t like Caden or didn’t think he was cool enough for Erika to be dating. Every chance they got they tried to set her up with one of the football or rugby players. And Yvette always called Caden cute—which he definitely was—but the way she said it made it sound like he was a puppy, not a person.

Lately, Erika had seriously been rethinking her friends.

Caden stepped back and turned toward the rally bus he’d come on to watch the game. Erika slowly let her hand slide down the glass as she watched him climb on board. They’d meet up back at school and he’d bring her home, now that he had his license and a car. A white Camry.

“Everybody ready?” Ms. Greene asked, doing a quick head count from the front of the small bus.

Erika nodded, making quick eye contact with Ms. Greene before she let her head fall back on her pillow and popped her ear-buds in to listen to Katy Perry on the ride home.

The lights of the coastal town in northern Oregon faded as the bus drove down the winding highway that would take them home.

Erika stared at the seatback in front of her, letting the music cocoon her and keep her out of the silly gossip chain she knew was going on around her.

As Katy Perry’s voice faded out and Meghan Trainor started to croon All About The Bass, the bus made a sharp maneuver. Erika fell forward. She tried to catch herself, but landed on her bag. An ear-bud fell out. Music pumped into only one ear.

Screaming—petrified screaming overtook the vocals. The other ear-bud fell out as the bus bumped and rolled, tossing Erika to the ceiling and back down.

Ouch.

Pain radiated through her body.

The bus came to rest on its side. Erika wasn’t sure which side or if she was still in her same seat. All she knew was the bus wasn’t moving anymore.

Her eyes were closed. Or they must have been because all she could see was black.

The screaming faded as she was sucked into the darkness. The pain she felt, but couldn’t identify faded too.

“Mommy,” she whispered before everything went black.

 

***

To find out what happens to this family sign up for Meg’s Insider Club. Their story will be released as a novel in 2016 and you won’t want to miss the release date!

 

Meg Gray uses a small world approach when crafting her contemporary romance novels, tying minor characters from one story into another—demonstrating how intertwined our human lives really are. The city streets and country roads she takes you down aren’t necessarily a structured series, but the stories are connected. Within the pages, her readers will catch glimpses of some of their favorite characters again and again. This is a concept that mirrors itself in our everyday lives. Our worlds are much smaller than we realize, often times we are unaware of the way our lives intersect with those around us. Visit www.meggraybooks.com to learn more.

Love and Guarantees by Meradeth Houston

(Okay, a quick disclaimer on this story: I sat down to write something "scary" for the monthly theme, and I started thinking about things that I find terrifying, one of which is the concept of soul-mates--really, I know that sounds weird, but think about it: one person you're meant to be with, but have no guarantee you'll meet? Or be the same age? Or have anything in common with? There are so many freakish things about the concept! Don't believe me? Read this! (I adore XKCD!) Anyhow, somehow, this is what came from that line of thinking. Blame my muse, she's apparently having a bad day.)

Sometimes love is the scariest thing of all...

***

Source

We all know they are out there. That one person. Guy, girl, someone meant just for us. We’ve seen

our parents, watched them in their relationships—the kind that click and work out. Ever since the scientists figured out how to do the iris mapping and comparisons, it’s been possible to meet and find that person. It’s supposed to be beautiful. Magical, even.

I’ve heard tales of what it was like, before, before. When people didn’t know how to find their other half that made them whole. You could spend your whole life looking, staring people in the eye as you walked down the street, every single day, hoping, praying, to feel that click. You’d see it happen, sometimes, I’ve heard: friends would get lucky. The one-in-ten-billion shot that they found that person.

“That gave everyone hope,” my History teacher told us. “When the world needed it.”

“And before that?” I’d asked, ever the ridiculously curious twelve year old. My teacher had smiled, benevolent, as she twisted her wedding band on her finger.

“Before that, just how far before?”

“Before they knew there were matches? What did people do then?” I asked.

Her tight smile and quick glance out the window told me more than her words. “Before that, they didn’t think matches existed. It’s a marvel our species survived.”

A marvel we survived. Those words stuck with me. As I rode the train, rocking with the sway of the soundless magnets. Around me, cheerful couples laughed, small children cooed, and music tinkled from someone’s ear buds.

But people had to find love, back in those ages, right? Love had existed, certainly. Different from what we knew now, but in those old novels I’d found from the war-times, there had been matches. Love. Some security.

Not like now, though. Not now that anyone could be your match. Killing off your child’s match half a world away couldn’t be on any parent’s conscious. Funny how that had changed things.

My History teacher spoke as if it had been inevitable. Of course humanity had found a way to perfect Love. To end war. To direct our attentions to more productive matters. The first five matches moving to Mars had been proof of that, surely.

Surely.

And now, now we were all registered at birth. The scan was quick, painless, easier than a camera flash. The database, officially run by the UN, was guarded closer than any bank vault.

Some people were luckier than others. They learned their match at a young age. Meeting on the playground, anyone could see their connection. Getting their official readings was just a formality at twenty. A piece of paper that told them what they already knew: that they were perfect for one another.

For the rest of us, the trek to pick up this information was enough to leave me vomiting in my bathroom.

What if he lived in the middle of nowhere? Another country? What if he was older? That didn’t happen much, but every once in a while a match came up where the people had a huge disparity in ages. That could be just gross.

My best friend had patted my shoulder and handed me a glass of juice.

“You don’t have to act on it. It’s not against the law to just ignore what you find out.” Her smile didn’t sit right: we both knew that would be dumb. Her match, who had arrived two months ago, was not what either of us had expected. She’d never considered that her other half would also be female. Of course that happened, but most people went in to get their papers knowing that ahead of time.

She’d decided not to do anything. It wasn’t what she wanted. Or so she’d thought.

But her match, a breathtakingly beautiful woman from New Seattle showed up on our doorstep two days after the paperwork had been released to my roommate.

I’d watched first hand as the two of them met. Scientists had it down to the exact chemicals, the chain of pheromones and reactions in the brain that explained what happened. They’d had plenty of people willing to be tested, of course. But it had still whispered of magic to me.

So, now, here I stood, waiting to get my papers. The train whispered to a stop and I stepped off, careful to avoid the crowds of people. Adds for everything from trips to the moon (“relive that honeymoon…on the moon!”), to the latest in nip-tucks (“keep them remembering the face they fell in love with at first sight”) plastered the walls. I ducked my head and rode the escalator up to the street.

A wall kept people away from the traffic—for safety’s sake. The barriers had been a recent addition, a way to ensure no one lost their match. The thought was inconceivable to those who had them.

As I approached the tall building that housed the Matching Office, a flutter of excitement tickled inside. I’d know. In just a little while, I’d know who my other person was. In a couple of hours, I could be even speaking with them.

It both pressed on my shoulders and lightened my step, making the trip inside and up to the twelfth floor an odd, hunched affair. The young woman in the elevator gave me a sympathetic look and a small smile as she exited.

The reception area was all white. Everything. Other than a few shadows, it seemed the whole place had been cleared of any color. While I think the designer had been going for official and scientific, it came off as frightening, and made me hope that I had avoided any puddles on the sidewalk.

The kiosk accepted my identification cards and told me to take a seat.

A bank of white, molded plastic chairs didn’t look inviting. My foot tapped a nervous rhythm as I settled onto the very edge of the seat.

Two minutes later, an honest-to-goodness real person came out to collect me. She was short, plump, and smiled too wide. It had been ages since I’d been greeted by anyone other than an automaton in an office, with the exception of my doctor’s office when theirs had come down with a virus.

Whatever the woman said while escorting me toward a meeting room at the back of the building was lost on me. She could have told me I’d been selected to colonize Neptune and I would have just nodded and smiled.

In just a few hours, I could be sharing parts of myself I never opened up about. About how much I had hated school. About how jealous I was of my roommate. About what I wanted to accomplish with my new art exhibit. And they might actually understand that. The thought made my plastered-on grin turn real.

The small room we entered held a desk, a chair, and a small screen and data center off to one side.

“Take a seat, my dear, and let me get things set up.” The woman’s voice finally penetrated my thoughts.

This seat, at least, was cushioned and comfortable as I settled into it.

The woman approached me with the scanner—a rod and tiny LED at the tip, that she held in front of my face. I obliged and held my eyes wide. Two flashes and the woman grinned at me.

“Well, you’re who you say are, Kati!” She said after tapping on the screen.

“Has anyone ever not been?”

She glanced over her shoulder at me, laughing a little. “Well, yes, sometimes.  People get nervous. And then there are those who don’t want to meet their match.” She shrugged.

Don’t want to meet them? The press of nerves from the morning made that not seem unreasonable.

“Well, are you ready for this?” the woman asked, tapping away on the screen again.

Science class had told me what she was doing. Every iris had a specific pattern that had originally thought to be unique, like a fingerprint. But once millions of people started being scanned, it was soon surmised that these patterns were not random. In fact, often, there were exact matches. And when these matches met, well, something funny seemed to happen.

A funny fluke of science, my History teacher had called it. I didn’t agree.

A rude beep came from the machine a moment later and we both jumped. “Well, that’s strange. Hold up a moment, deary.” The woman patted my shoulder and bustled from the room.

The screen at the data station just read “ERROR” in large red letters. I sighed. Some computer glitch with perfect timing.

I stared out the window, watching raindrops trickle down the glass, making patterns against the backdrop of the grid of windows across the street.

The door opened and two people entered, my original helper along with a younger woman. The younger woman busied herself with typing into the screen.

I watched them, my hands gripping my knees to keep myself still. Any moment now, I’d know a name. A place. My future. I could barely keep my breath even, and my heart rate was so high my bracelet was buzzing to alert me.

Then, another beep. A sigh of relief from both women. Then they both turned to look at one another.

“Run it again.” The tone my helper used made a chill creep across my scalp.

“You do it. I’ll check from the mainframe.” The younger woman kept her eyes trained on the white carpet as she raced from the room.

Neither of them would look at me, and my throat was far too dry to try and ask a question.

Another bing from the station and my helper let out a long sigh.

The younger woman poked her head back into the room, her eyes so wide she looked like something off a cartoon I’d seen in old history books. She just shook her head, her gaze skittering to me for the first time.

Her expression made my gut sink.

“I’ve never…” my helper said, her voice shaking.

“Me either.” The door clicked shut and my helper slumped onto the edge of the desk.

“This almost never happens,” she whispered. Her eyes met mine and I saw her glossy swim of tears.

I opened and closed my mouth several times and finally looked over at the screen, where more red words slashed through my confusion.

“Match deceased.”

***

Meradeth's never been a big fan of talking about herself, but if you really want to know, here are some random tidbits about her:

>She's a Northern California girl and now braves the cold winters in Montana.

>When she's not writing, she's sequencing dead people's DNA.

>She’s also an anthropology professor and loves getting people interested in studying humans.

>If she could have a super-power, it would totally be flying. Which is a little strange, because she's terrified of heights.

Find Meradeth Houston online at:www.MeradethHouston.com, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, Amazon, Goodreads, and of course her blog!

Lake Effect by Kai Strand

The lake may have claimed him, but Kira will get him back!

***

They were so wrapped up in each other, their passion alive with smacking lips and breathy moans of pleasure, that at first Kira didn’t realize they were no longer alone on the dark lakeside beach. The lap of waves on sand was replaced by the sound of rain dripping from a rooftop.  Reluctantly, Kira pulled her lips from Jayden’s and glanced toward the sound. She blinked in confusion and paused to wonder if she’d fallen asleep. But the heated trail Jayden’s lips burned along her neck was too real to be a dream.

“What the hell?” she whispered, leaning forward to get a better look, drawing Jayden’s attention away from her.

The Lake by Abby McClean

Water burbled and flowed upward out of the surface of the lake like a fountain you might find in front of a fancy hotel. But instead of falling back into the lake, it drew together into a humanoid form. The sight was so unrealistic Kira expected it to be accompanied by a horror movie soundtrack of roars and growls, not the pleasant patter of water droplets of a waning summer storm. She stared with dread as the liquid man emerged from the lake, with too long of arms and eerily elongated fingers, already reaching forward even as they formed, curling and grabbing at the air. Oversized feet took shape at the bottom of thick legs as the creature rolled across the sand like a tidal wave.

The ceiling of stars reflected on the creature’s domed head and wide shoulders, as if the universe crowned him king. Kira screamed, but fright stole the force behind her voice and only a squeak escaped from her lips. Jayden clutched her arms and stared in shocked awe at the reformed water that stalked toward them. Within seconds the creature was upon them. Oozing between them. Pushing them apart until Jayden’s grip slid away as the creature forced him backward, toward the lake.

Jayden struggled. His cries muted and gurgling under the watery hand pressed over his lips, making it sound as though he was drowning. His hand pushed right through the liquid body doing nothing to slow their progress to the lake’s edge.

Kira tried to pull the creature off her boyfriend, but her hands splashed right through the surface and came away wet and empty. She screamed Jayden’s name frantically, repeatedly, her voice clear and shrill. Why didn’t anyone come?

When the creature successfully reached the water’s edge lake water sucked into the air, as if eager to reunite with a long lost friend, swallowing most of Jayden in the process. The inky blackness swirled around his struggling form, making it appear as though he was being erased from existence. Blotted out entirely. Jayden’s eyes grew wide with fear and Kira’s lungs constricted with terror.

Jayden, swathed in a liquid blanket sparked a flash of memories, the myriad of times they’d slept under the stars. Their summertime friendship extended back as far as she could remember. Was this some sort of punishment for allowing their friendship to develop into something more?

Her attention snapped back to Jayden when he and his captor floated slowly toward the center of the lake. With a yell of despair, Kira splashed into the mild surf, only to be ejected right back out. She slammed into the damp sand, her jaw snapping shut on impact. She spit out a mouthful of blood and scrambled to her feet, wading into the waves, only to be tossed out a second time. Her wrist bent unnaturally as she broke her fall, and she sucked in a lungful of warm, humid air. When cold mist coated her throat, she realized she was inhaling the spray of the water creature. Her stomach twisted in disgust and she gagged.

The site of the creature and Jayden sinking into the water made her spring to her feet. Panic welled inside her and she scanned the shore for something—anything—that might help him. There was nothing. She mewled and pulled at her hair as if the action would dislodge an idea that could help Jayden. They had sunk low enough that soon he would be completely underwater. His black eyes—wide, wide open and surrounded by white—seemed to be bathed in a spotlight. Kira reached uselessly toward him, whimpering his name.

As soon as Jayden disappeared, she ran. Toward the dock. Toward the little motorboat.

The warm night breeze whispered unintelligible secrets in her ears as she raced along the waterfront. The lake lapping on the shore sighed compelling requests, like “Let go,” and “Forget.” Even the moldering scent on the air enticed her to investigate the nearby woods as if more than the water conspired against her. But the memory of Jayden’s jet black eyes just before the dark water swallowed him—their pleading expression loud enough to drown out the croak of the largest bullfrog—kept her on task.

Kira’s lungs strained to suck in as much oxygen as the humid air would forfeit. The dock came into sight, dimly lit by the pale porch light of her family’s rundown summer cabin. She barely registered the burning in her thighs as she raced toward the pier. She considered calling out for help, but she was afraid to put anyone else in danger.

Her feet slammed on the rickety dock as she dashed toward the boat. She leaped in carelessly, almost toppling out the other side when the boat tipped precariously. Losing her balance, she stumbled to the front to untie the tether from the dock. Turning toward the back, and the motor, she tripped over a life vest. Her knee slammed into the bench seat that stretched across the back of the boat shooting pain up her leg.

It took two yanks of the cord to start the old outboard motor, the whine deafening on the still waters. Certainly this would wake her father and he’d come out to investigate. But she didn’t have time to wait. She sensed that Jayden was still alive, and she had to get to him. Unbidden, an image of five-year-old Jayden—missing a front tooth, obsidian eyes sparking with mischief as he sat at the end of the dock daring her to eat a worm—filled her mind. She had to save him.

The moment she angled toward the center of the lake Kira realized she didn’t really know where to go. Using the shore for reference, she steered the boat to where she thought Jayden had disappeared under the water. But the lake was dark and quiet. Her boat upset the surface as if it were the first stirrings in hours. Eyes squinted, she peered into the inky depths, but it was like looking for a picture when a television was turned off. She steered in ever widening circles around the area where she thought Jayden and the creature had disappeared, but her view never changed. Finally, she turned the engine off and let the craft float to a stop.

A deep voice shouting her name drowned out the water lapping against her boat. Heart pounding, she stood so fast she almost toppled over the side. Her gaze scanned the lake’s surface, but then her attention was drawn to the shore where her father jumped up and down.

Breath hitching and heart seizing, Kira’s gaze fell from her frantic father to the water – as dark and fathomless as Jayden’s eyes. Her mind almost shattered. She was going to have to return to the dock. Have to tell her father that Jayden had disappeared. They’d call the authorities. They’d tell his family. Soon red and blue flashing lights would reflect off the water and the summer residents would gather on the shore in their bathrobes and whisper to each other while divers searched the lake bottom.

Kira was terrified of what they’d find. Or what they might not find. She couldn’t bring herself to return to shore. She collapsed heavily onto the bench seat, her gaze never shifting from the shimmering dark water.

“Jayden,” she whispered. She stretched a hand toward the surface, but snatched it back when a small knoll developed, as if to smack away her reaching fingers. The creature wouldn’t even let her touch the surface, skim a palm over the coldness. “I’ll find you Jayden. I’ll get you back.”

A shiver ran down her spine. Questions raced through her mind. Had he already drowned? No. Her intuition revved in overdrive. He might be underwater, but he hadn’t drowned. Yet even still alive, would Jayden be worth saving? Would he be the same?

She didn’t want to truly acknowledge her questions. Just like returning to the dock would force her to admit that Jayden was gone, giving voice to her thoughts would make her fears real.

Anger and despair boiled inside her as she leaned over the side of the boat. Her reflection stared back at her, shaking apart and reforming with the lapping water. Then her image distorted into the featureless face of the creature. Even without a mouth, it appeared to smirk up at her. She glared at it and hissed, “He isn’t yours. I’ll get him back.”

The reflection shifted again and Jayden’s panic stricken eyes stared up at her. A hand shot out of the water, splashing her face. Instinctively she jerked away, but then with a cry, she reached forward, rocking the boat. Their fingers brushed, but his hand was yanked under and he disappeared from view. When the surface of the water calmed, Kira once again stared at her own distorted image.

“I’ll get him back,” she repeated. Frustration rippled through her when her voice cracked with fear, not wanting the creature to think her weak. Swiping away the tears that hadn’t already fallen into the lake, she closed her eyes, and pushed to a sitting position, sipping a few calming breaths. Resolved to rescue Jayden, she yanked the cord to restart the engine. Everything inside her screamed that the creature hadn’t stolen Jayden to kill him. And she trusted her instincts.

With a straight back and her chin jutted forward, she steered the boat toward shore.

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I hope you enjoyed this introduction to my new (as yet untitled) young adult fantasy. It’s my plan that the book be published in the fall of 2016, barring interference from any trickster immortals. Join my mailinglist to receive notification of this and other projects.
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When her children were young and the electricity winked out, Kai Strand gathered her family around the fireplace and they told stories, one sentence at a time. Her boys were rather fond of the ending, “And then everybody died. The end.” Now an award winning children’s author, Kai crafts fiction for kids and teens to provide an escape hatch from their reality. With a selection of novels for young adult and middle grade readers and a short story blog, Lightning Quick Reads, Kai entertains children of all ages, and their adults. Learn more about Kai and her books on her website, www.kaistrand.com.

OCTOBER THEME: SCARY

Boo! Are you shaking in your boots?

The woman walks along the darkened street. She looks from right to left but sees no one. Her pace quickens. Footfalls sound behind her. Her pace quickens. She wants to turn but instead she continues, her gaze forward, her heart thudding. The streetlight reveals a shadow approaching from the back. Just as she’s about to step into the light, a hand grabs around her waist.

Yikes! Maybe that had you shaking?

This month the talented LQR writers will aim to put the fear of death in you. Their challenge is to write “scary” stories. Some might use the theme to write thrillers or blood curdling ghost tales. Others might find different ways to remind you that this month the lights dim and the jack-o-lantern grins behind a half-curtained window. It’s Halloween time!