A Touch of Magic

Prologue

'A Touch of Magic'

Copyright © 2013 by Sarah Ellen Bentley

All rights reserved

Cover design by @alessandra

No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic or mechanical) including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review. 

The book 'A Touch of Magic', was written as part of an assignment for an MA in Creative Writing. The University, which awarded the postgraduate certificate holds an electronic copy. 

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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I raked my fingernails through the graveside soil and sobbed bitterly, ignoring the cold, hard chunks of earth biting into my knees. It wasn't fair. Nothing was fair.

"Minta?" Not for the first time, my brother called out from the gloomy fog. I shivered. Ironically, it was as if someone had walked over my grave. "Minta, Mum wants you."

I looked over my shoulder to warn him off with a teary glare, however, dull grey mist had folded around me, shrouding the view. Until this point, I'd scarcely noticed moisture penetrating my clothes, yet now I felt damp seeping through my skin.

"Go away, I... just go away." In my sour, all consuming misery, I heard a sigh and a scuffle back in the direction of the church hall. The last thing I wanted was to play happy families over a soggy buffet. Stones in the earth grazed my knees through the 'must-appear-like-a-lady' tights, I'd been ordered to wear. I smiled for the first time in weeks. My dead relative would've chuckled seeing me in a skirt (one of her old skirts), rather than my jeans.

I'm not sure I felt better or worse after my tearful explosion; but fed-up feeling cold, I stood up and brushed the earth from my clothes... and suddenly found the strength to challenge the corpse buried six feet under. "You said you chose me. How could you say that?" I whispered angrily (it wouldn't do to be heard bitching about the last will and testament). "I feel so humiliated, you realise that, don't you?"

I drew in a deep breath, ready to let out another heavy sob, but instead, an invisible pressure thrust down on my back, pushing out the air from my lungs. Shoulders heavy, I dropped to the ground, landing on my outstretched arms. They quickly bowed from the weight, before giving into the force. I sank into the soil, mouth full of dirt.

"Stop it, please! What do you...?" But as I twisted my head, I saw nothing but wanton fog dance behind me.

"Too soon," gasped a unbodied voice.

"Not awakened," murmured another.

A white light blasted through the mist; so bright. And a then... a feeling of love, as the world became one very hazy mess...

*

"Minta! What are you doing down there?" My mother was indignant, or maybe worried, but then I was lying on top of her favourite aunt's freshly dug grave, in heavy drizzle.

I opened my eyes and smelt death churning in the retreating smog.

"You silly girl!" She shook her head. "How could you fall asleep? If you get a chill again, it'll be another week off school and you can't afford that."

"Sleep? Did I?" I tried to smile, but an overwhelming sense of foreboding gripped my insides and pulled the corners of my mouth downwards. "Weird dreams. I think-,"

"You're as white as a ghost. What would Great Aunt Minty say?" Mum cut me off as she reached down, grabbed my arm and pulled me up to standing.

I wobbled. Her face was also ghostly pale from the funeral, the loss and all the work she'd put in for today, so for once, I didn't answer back. I nodded and allowed her to fold my arm under hers as she led us back toward the church.

A rumble of thunder cut through the silence. I turned, as lightening flashed over the graveyard. I could've sworn a man's silhouette crouched over my Great Aunt's plot. I blinked, but only bunches flowers paid their last respects. A puzzle. The plot was in a corner and I was currently being dragged down the only exit. "Must be weird daydreams," I whispered. What else could it be?

Mum quickened her pace as a clap of thunder ripped opened the sky, the rain monsooned. I turned once more, as it occurred to me,  those flowers hadn't been there before. Kneeling on foliage would've been a lot more comfortable than stones. "That seriously didn't just happen." The rain drowned out my words. 

'Anything could happen', that's what Great Aunt Minty would've said, before dissecting my dream moment by moment, bit by bit. Anything could happen; it was so true, since Great Aunt Minty was dead, and I'd thought that was an impossibility.

Anything could happen. The word echoed in my head all the way back to the church.

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I hope you have enjoyed the prologue and decide to read on. A vote is much appreciated! And all comments positive or negative are welcome. 

:)