The Spirit of Stone-and-Light Canyon

By Linda C. Quattrochi

After a late-night encounter with her creepy neighbor, seventeen-year-old Abby Carson’s boredom vanishes in a flash when she’s told a chilling legend—“The spirit is real, you know. And he follows all hikers through the canyon—his canyon”—a tale that leads to haunting nightmares and strange events. Ignoring the warnings, Abby propels her friends Jake and Mayumi on a perilous journey through a secret canyon, where they encounter evil more deadly than the ancient spirit who guards Stone-and-Light Canyon.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Nov 2, 2015
• ISBN: 9781682222836

Book preview

AUTHOR

CHAPTER 1

The Legend

A silhouette cut across silver strands of moonlight, dry twigs crunched under shuffling feet.

A hint of a raspy whisper drifted with the cool breeze.

Watchful eyes burned through the gloom.

But Abigail Brodie Carson saw nothing. Heard nothing.

Slumped in a lounge chair on her back patio, Abby was unaware of these forewarnings that creased the still night. Even the twilight’s beauty in front of her went unnoticed. She wasn’t thrilled by the billions of stars stretched above her, sending a rich light across a mindboggling distance to ignite the cloudless New Mexico sky. Or the summer moon that hung low and bright that normally sent delicious shivers down her spine.

Wrapped in the creeping darkness, Abby heaved a deep sigh and pushed her head back against the cold plastic. She’d just finished her junior year in high school a few days earlier and was already bored and longing for something exciting to do. She clicked her heels together three times—as if that gesture alone could magically transport her pals, Mayumi and Jake, back from their family vacations. She was so ready for the three of them to get out of town, to go exploring.

But Abby was also bummed. Not even a text, she thought miserably. Not even from Mayumi. They don’t even miss me. What’s with that? The question was tossed at the large cinnamon-colored ball of fur planted on top of her feet.

Her cat Mousy—suitably named for his disturbing and voracious appetite for the little creatures—raised his tail in response, slowly twisting it like a slithering snake. Abby reached out and tugged it gently. And I’m stuck here, she said, tilting her head toward the gray stucco house that she’d lived in all her life.

She wasn’t jealous of her friends, not really. But she did wish her family would do more than take short road trips around the state. Abby loved New Mexico, and she’d learned to camp around all those buttes and mesas and rugged mountains when she was a little kid. Still, she didn’t want to be like her parents and grandparents. They had never taken a chance, had never lived anywhere else.

Abby leaned her elbows on her knees, cupped her chin with her hands and stared out at the shadows forming in the gloom. Keeping her head motionless, she let her eyes slide slowly over the drab backyard—to the left, to the middle, then to the right, and finally back to center. I need more than just this, she whispered.

Mousy purred softly, and then forced his massive body between Abby’s knees. She stroked his back, gliding her fingers through the short rough fur as he continued to make soothing sounds. Abby thought about how great it would have been to start the summer off right. Go on some kind of an adventure with her friends—away from home, away from this backwater town.

And away from her strange neighbor Miss Ramos. Abby stole a quick peek at the house next-door hidden in deep shadows, and she shivered. Living at the far western edge of town, Abby thought of the weird old lady as the only thing for miles around. She always made a point of dodging, skirting, ducking, or otherwise avoiding her neighbor.

Old Miss Ramos was more than a little weird. For one thing, she always dressed in dull, brownish long-sleeved shirts with rolled-up sleeves and skirts so long they brushed the ground. And the only shoes she wore were worn-out leather sandals that peeked out from under the tattered edge of her skirt.

Abby often caught a glimpse of old Miss Ramos working in her rock garden. She was always rearranging the stones, sometimes four or five times a day. She would look up at the sky, then down at the ground. And then she would turn the stone just so, sometimes moving it only a few inches. This was the weirdest thing of all. Abby was sure the old lady was some kind of witch casting strange spells.

Abby shivered at the thought, then hugged herself as a cool breeze swept across the yard, carrying with it the sweet, floral scent of lavender. She drew in a deep breath as the calming fragrance drifted over her. But Abby was far from being relaxed—frustrated was more like it. She grimaced as the cold plastic slats of the lizard-green lounge chair pricked her skin.

Enough of this, Mousy, said Abby, lifting the cat and dropping him to the ground. Let’s find something better to do.

Abby stepped quickly toward the back door on the cracked, dusty sandstone-colored flagstones, lit only by slivers of moonlight. The door was in deep shadows, and she fumbled for the knob. She found it, turned it, and—Crash! She whipped around. What the heck? she whispered.

Then she heard a shout from a gravelly voice in the neighboring yard. Squinting as she scanned the dark yard, she finally spotted old Miss Ramos sprawled on the ground. Abby hesitated for a moment, chewing her knuckles and thinking she should just go through the door and forget about the old lady. But she knew she couldn’t, and instead sprinted the short distance to help the woman to her feet.

Are you okay? she asked, holding Miss Ramos by her bony arms. But the old lady said nothing.

Miss Ramos, are you okay? Abby asked again.

That had been a big mistake.

Miss Ramos grabbed Abby’s hand. Come in and have a cup of hot cocoa, Abigail. Her voice was low and raspy.

Abby groaned, then stole a peek at the old lady. She tried to take back her hand, but the grip was strong. Then she tried a few excuses to avoid accepting Miss Ramos’s invitation—My cat needs a bath … I need to feed the turtle … My snake is sick—but they didn’t work. Miss Ramos was one clever old lady.

Miss Ramos guided Abby toward the back door of her small pale yellow stucco house. The screen door stood open, and she gently pulled Abby through. Abby glanced over her shoulder as the door magically swooshed shut. Then Miss Ramos let go of her hand and motioned for her to follow.

Miss Ramos led Abby to a two-person sofa in the small front room of her house. The floor of the dark, murky room was covered with rocks of all sizes. Some rock piles almost touched the low ceiling. Stay here. Miss Ramos pointed to the sofa with a snap of a finger, and then disappeared into the shadowy hallway.

Abby dropped into the seat and immediately sank into the soft fabric. She wiggled forward, planting her feet solidly on the wooden floor, and let her eyes travel over her weird surroundings. She had the eerie feeling of being in a cave. She wrinkled her nose, as a muggy scent seemed to drift from shadowy corners. Yes … a dark, dank cave. What am I doing here?

Before Abby could bolt, Miss Ramos returned with two small porcelain cups. She handed one to Abby before slipping down onto the sofa next to her. They were so close that Abby swore she could hear the old lady’s heart beating. The cocoa wasn’t hot—hardly even warm. Abby gulped it and started to stand up, but an ice-cold hand gripped her arm.

Miss Ramos leaned in and whispered, Do you believe in ghosts, Abigail? Her eyes glistened.

Abby glanced down at the small hand holding her in place. In the dim light escaping from a large, bucket-shaped lampshade, the hand looked bluish-green. Abby fell heavily back into the soft seat of the sofa.

Umm … Abby stole a quick sideways glance at the old lady. Something in Miss Ramos’s voice sent chills up her spine. Or maybe the chills came from the frigid fingers that still pressed into her arm.

Miss Ramos sighed and withdrew her hand. Abby cocked her head, which was whispering, Run! Get out of here! But she remained motionless, trapped next to her crazy neighbor.

Miss Ramos continued. I saw a ghost once. Well, it wasn’t a ghost like on TV. But … a spirit. She shook her head a little. And it scared the pants off of me.

I’m sure it did, Miss Ramos, Abby said. But I really need to get back to—

I’m not crazy, you know. Miss Ramos set her cup on the tiny, scarred coffee table, and the silver spoon made a tinkling sound as if it were still stirring the cold cocoa. She shifted her position and leveled her gaze at Abby. I do wish you would let me tell my story. Someone needs to hear it before I die. Her lips curled into a twisted smile. "And it should be you, Abigail."

Abby placed her hands on the edge of the sofa and got ready to push off. All she wanted to do was dash out the door. But she remained motionless, a frozen reflection in the old lady’s eyes. She felt doomed. Abby nodded and said, Go on, Miss Ramos. Tell me about the spirit.

That had been another big mistake.

I was seventeen, Miss Ramos began. She pursed her lips and studied Abby’s face—her bright blue eyes, tanned skin, and long, shiny brown hair. Yes, about your age. Miss Ramos raised a trembling hand toward Abby’s face, and then hesitated before slowly lowering the parched hand to her knee.

Abby let out a long breath and shifted forward. She’d had enough. I really, really have to—

You should listen to my story, Abigail, Miss Ramos grumbled. You know, you’re not that different from me. You see … I thought the world was open to me to do whatever I wanted. And what I wanted more than anything was to travel the world. That never happened. She let out a long sigh.

But I did find adventure in my own backyard, Miss Ramos continued. Hiked everywhere, explored every remote area I could find. I thought I had seen it all. She hesitated, gulped. Then my boyfriend Joe told me about a secret canyon.

Abby’s eyes widened. She didn’t know what surprised her more: the fact that Miss Ramos had had a boyfriend, or the ripple of excitement that coursed through her body at the mention of a secret canyon.

"And about the legend, Miss Ramos said in a hushed voice. About the spirit of the canyon." She narrowed her eyes and studied Abby’s face closely.

Abby realized she was holding her breath and tapping her foot nervously. A secret canyon. A ghost—even better. All of a sudden, Abby had a vision of a canyon bathed in a mysterious golden light. And on the canyon floor flowed a mist, weaving through long slabs of sandstone and rugged rocks. Is that what the spirit looks like, she wondered? The thought sent a little shiver coursing through her body.

Abby was hooked. She wanted to be out there. She needed to be out there. And did you find it—the canyon?

A weak smile cut across Miss Ramos’s dry lips. Oh, yes. And it was like nothing I’d ever seen. Such beauty. Such mystery. The way the golden light fell across the rocks … She looked down at her hands folded in her lap. The rocks, she whispered.

Abby pictured it—exploring, digging for fossils, camping in such a place. She edged forward, catching herself before she slipped off the edge of the sofa. Do you think I could—?

It was so long ago. A soft sigh escaped Miss Ramos’s lips. I wonder if it was even real, she muttered.

If what was real? What? The pitch of Abby’s voice kicked up a notch.

Once again Miss Ramos grasped Abby’s arm with her bluish-green hand. A ghostly memory broke free, and her eyes widened. The spirit. The one that followed me through the canyon. The one that almost … Her voice trailed off, and then her head slowly dropped to her chest, and her long black hair streaked with strands of silver fell across her face.

Almost what? Abby exclaimed. She felt a sudden tingle at the back of her neck.

Miss Ramos pushed back her hair with a trembling hand, and straightened up. Her eyes held Abby’s, and she shook her head slightly. "The spirit is real, you know. And he follows all hikers through the canyon—his canyon."

Abby felt the hand release her arm and watched it slump back onto Miss Ramos’s lap. She peered at the old lady’s face and saw her eyes slowly shut. Then Abby stood up and quietly left the house.

Through half-closed eyes, Miss Ramos watched Abby depart. She let out a long sigh, stood up on heavy legs, and let her eyes drift over her collection of stones.

She’s the girl, she mumbled. She’s the one.

CHAPTER 2

The Dream Catcher

Later, gazing out her window in the middle of the night, Abby wondered why she was so taken with the strange tale of the canyon spirit. She wasn’t usually drawn into ghost stories. It was as though old Miss Ramos had set a spell on her. One thing she did know—she had to find out more about the secret canyon.

Abby twisted around at the sound of Mousy plopping onto the bed. She smiled, then turned back and raised her eyes to the Dream Catcher gently swaying above the open window, which framed the distant mountains, hills, and cliffs of north-central New Mexico. Abby watched for a moment as the Dream Catcher’s delicately woven threads and soft feathers fluttered like little fairies dancing to a silent tune.

But Abby’s smile quickly disappeared as she recalled the eerie tale of the canyon spirit. Better do your job tonight, she whispered. She gave the Dream Catcher a gentle twirl.

Abby turned off the light, slipped under the covers, and pushed gently on her cat. Move over, you.

Some hours before dawn, the Dream Catcher’s crystal began to swirl furiously within the woven spiderweb protecting it. The glass beads hanging from the brightly colored threads whipped wildly about. But even the ancient power of the Dream Catcher couldn’t stop the nightmare….

Abby nervously glances over her shoulder. Someone or something is out there, somewhere behind her. She can’t see it, but she senses a presence. The clear morning air has turned misty, as if a vapor from some great reservoir has been suddenly released. She steals another glance and realizes in horror that the mist is moving toward her. Her head screams: Faster, faster! She knows she can outrun it. Flying across the desert terrain, she kicks up dust that quickly fades into the stalking vapor. She stumbles, quickly jumps to her feet, feels the tendrils of mist creep up her ankle. She struggles, gets free—runs faster. Her muscles tremble, but she forces her legs to keep moving. She stops abruptly, arms flaying, to keep herself from tumbling over the ledge and into the fast-flowing river below. An avalanche of rocks tumbles over the rim. She takes a step back, hugs herself. She’s reached the end of her flight. She turns on shaking legs to meet … what? She doesn’t know. The mist moves in, and soon she feels the ice-cold hands of …

CHAPTER 3

Questions and Answers

Sitting up in bed, eyes narrowed at the Dream Catcher swaying gently in the high desert breeze, Abby recalled her nightmare: the cliff, the tumbling rocks, the feeling of something chasing her—the terrifying press of cold against her skin. She breathed in sharply. Could it be the secret canyon, the—?

Suddenly, the memory of her nightmare was interrupted by a soft crying sound from under the bed. Mousy, she called. She leaned over the edge and gently tugged his legs until he crawled out. Mousy hopped onto the bed and snuggled deep into her chest, his dark yellow eyes half-closed and his ears laid back. Scary stuff, huh? said Abby softly.

Abby gently caressed Mousy’s tense back with long strokes. He began to purr softly, and his body soon relaxed against hers. But Abby was far from being calm—she had a gnawing in the pit of her stomach. She knew she would feel miserable hanging around the house while her friends were off having fun. That wasn’t going to happen, she decided with a shake of her head. She would go out by herself, find the canyon—maybe she’d even run into Miss Ramos’s canyon spirit floating over the rocks.

Can’t you see it?—Abby brushed her lips against Mousy’s ear—Me and a ghost. Mousy shook his heavy head, thumping Abby in the chest. She grasped the sides of his head and looked him straight in the eyes. Bet you Jake won’t believe me. Abby’s lips twisted into a wicked smile. And Mayumi will be so scared. Ha! Mousy struggled free, jumped to the floor, and scooted back under the bed.

Abby pushed up from the bed, excited about her decision. But first she needed more information, and that meant seeing her creepy neighbor again. She had avoided Miss Ramos for so many years, but that was about to end.

Instead of taking her usual early-morning run, Abby hung around the house. She kept stealing glances out of each window—she just had to catch sight of the old lady.

Her mom gave her long, puzzled looks but said nothing at first. Abby’s parents were great. They didn’t treat her like a child. They trusted her, gave her space.

Then Abby sensed her mom standing next to her at the living room window. What’s up, Abby? Mrs. Carson leaned toward the glass, clutching her coffee cup, and took a quick look around. She turned and raised an eyebrow.

Abby grinned at her mom, who was still in pajamas: a loose fitting heather gray tee and shorts. Abby thought her mom looked pretty good—for a mother. "Just checking the weather. You know how it is mom—sunny or really sunny." Mrs. Carson laughed and went back to the kitchen and poured herself another cup of coffee.

It was 9 a.m. when Abby spotted Miss Ramos heading toward her garden of stones in the same drab brown outfit. Gotcha, she whispered.

Abby went outside and crept toward her neighbor like a mountain lion ready to pounce on its prey. She wasn’t going to leave Miss Ramos alone until she asked her questions—and got some answers. Nothing was going to stop her from finding the secret canyon.

Crunch!

Abby looked down at the dead branch she had just stepped on. Miss Ramos turned around. Abby felt stupid.

Hello, Abigail.

Umm … hello, Miss Ramos.

They stared at each other for several long seconds. Finally, Miss Ramos pointed to the ground and said, Abigail, would you please move that stone over to the right? About two inches.

Abby glanced at the rocks arranged in a twisting, snaking kind of pattern; they were of different sizes and