Red Ribbons

By Vanessa K. Eccles

A curious orphan. A witch's curse. And forbidden rooms. 

It's what we don't know that really scares us, or so twelve-year-old Claribel finds out when she enters Waywardly Hall—a house full of impossible things and odd little orphans. Even with all its creepiness, it's what Claribel did to get there that really haunts her. All she can think about is the tap, tap, tapping of her foster parents locked in their closet.

When she learns the truth behind the lies, she turns her attention to the ghostly children in the forbidden rooms, the ones with RED RIBBONS tied to their doorknobs. The house is deteriorating and starting to flood. Something must be done before it all collapses under the weight of the spell and the sister's endless tears. With the help of a godmother, a miniature dragon, and a few friends, a plan is concocted to destroy the curse and its hold on Waywardly Hall. Claribel must save the others even if it means losing herself.

RED RIBBONS is a magical tale of mystery and intrigue meant to inspire curiosity in all ages. Humorous, quirky sidekicks and authentic characters will introduce you to another world where magic, action and adventure, orphans and foster homes, and spook meet to create a charming tale of family life. With a dash of horror and supernatural, Claribel's story will keep you up all night exploring the realms of the impossible.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vanessa Eccles
• Release date: Jul 25, 2017
• ISBN: 9780986134548

Book preview

The author has prepared a short video for readers. Watch to find out what inspired RED RIBBONS.

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1

The Curious Orphan

Claribel was an odd girl by all accounts; one whom dreamed dreams and found even the most common of things curious. It was this curiosity that landed her in the most bizarre of places, facing the most terrifying monsters even her vivid imagination couldn't conjure.

And it all began on a night

like

this

.

A night like any other.

She dreamed in her tiny bed, under a mountain of cartoon covers. Of course, she was too old for blankets with cartoons, but telling that to her foster parents didn't go over so well. They weren't about to buy new bedding every time another child came into their home. Instead, they went for something altogether kiddy and hoped for young children to be placed with them, ones with softer, more malleable minds.

Claribel was anything but easily persuaded. She had an iron will, completely unmovable at times. When she awoke from another of her bad dreams, she threw off the cartoons and fled to the window where a dreamcatcher hung. She slung it off its hook and across the room. Then she opened the window and let the early morning air spill into the room. Her blonde hair danced in

the

wind

.

I hate dreams, she mumbled to herself.

After recovering from her nightmare, she dressed, brushed the moss off her teeth, and went into the kitchen. Her foster mother had already found the television and had glued herself to the morning news. Coffee dripped into a

stained

pot

.

Drip

.

Drop

.

Claribel proceeded to pour herself fruity loops. She sniffed the carton of milk before pouring it into the bowl and turned her nose up. It wasn't unlike her foster mother to let the milk expire, but from experience, Claribel realized that the carton had at least two more days before it needed to be

thrown

out

.

What's for breakfast? her foster father called out from the hall. Her foster mother laughed to herself.

What she's having, she answered, motioning to Claribel.

Busy day today, Flower? he asked while pouring his own cereal and sniffing the carton as

she

had

.

Not particularly,

she

said

.

Flower was his favorite pet name for her. He started it the first day Claribel came to her new parents' tiny city apartment. He saw her pick a dandelion from the crevice of the sidewalk outside the building and place it into a blue box she had of keepsakes. He assumed she liked flowers, but she didn't. In fact, Claribel didn't like most things other little girls liked. She did, however, like stubborn weeds that grew wherever they could plant themselves.

Good. Busy days are for the birds. Life is about lazy moments, rocking back and forth in peaceful scenes. Letting the wind blow you from left to right. Flowing with the flow, he said with a wide smile.

Claribel shrugged, not knowing exactly what he meant. She rarely understood him. His words were like jigsaw puzzles, and Claribel didn't like puzzles

at

all

.

Gotta run. Don't want to miss the bus. Claribel snatched her backpack and headed out the door. She took the stairs down, tripping in her too big Converses. They were half price, or so was her foster mother's excuse for not buying the

right

size

.

Fussyfoot, she called out in frustration. She examined her knee. A tiny bit of blood oozed from beneath her jeans. Perfect.

By the time she made it to the bus stop, she was out of breath and patience. It wasn't even 8 am and she was already dreading the day. She had just a brief second to catch her breath before the bus came to

a

stop

.

She sat in her usual spot—the very first seat behind the driver—aka the

un

cool

zone

.

What happened to you? a pretty girl—library type—asked while pointing to

Claribel’s

knee

.

I beat up a monster on the way down the stairs, she retorted.

The girl rolled her eyes, batted thick eyelashes, and turned away. Claribel almost felt bad for being sarcastic. Maybe the girl was just trying to be nice, but she didn't think so. Very few people were nice to Claribel, so she watched enviously as the girl’s perfect curls bounced at

every

bump

.

Claribel twisted her own hair and knotted it into a ponytail.

School went on like school does. Mostly uneventful, with the occasional obnoxious boy making farting noises or the rarely tolerated popping of bras. That is, until lunch. She sat alone at the tail end of the nerd table. Claribel wasn’t exceptionally smart, so the nerds wouldn't accept her. Most would say there was nothing particularly beautiful about her either, so the pretty people rejected

her

too

.

And in middle school, if you don't fit, you don't exist.

Hello, a sweet voice said from behind. She almost didn't turn to see who it was, convinced that surely no one would be speaking to her. But the voice was so close, and no one else was sitting

near

her

.

She turned to see a woman wearing a feather hat approaching her. The slender woman then took a seat at the table, folded her arms across her chest, and smiled a strange smile at Claribel, who had just taken a bite out of her apple.

Hi, Claribel said, trying to pull a wayward apple skin from her teeth.

Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Helen Thomas. Pleased to meet you. The woman held out a gloved hand to shake.

Umm... you too? Claribel said as more of a question than anything else and gave the lady’s hand a

quick

jerk

.

Claribel had never seen anyone dressed like this woman before. Her hair hung in big pinned curls under a black hat with a wide white feather sticking out. She wore a straight dress down to her knees, complete with white stockings and heeled black shoes. She could have stepped out of an old movie, Claribel thought.

I have a proposition for you, the woman said in a smooth, soft voice that made Claribel want to listen. "We've been watching you, my sister and I, and think that you'd be a perfect fit for a school across town. We run it, you see, and it's perfect for girls

like

you

."

"What do you mean girls

like

me

?"

Girls who... she hesitated, Girls who are having trouble adjusting with other children. She smiled.

Claribel chewed on that thought and the core of her apple for a minute. Had she really been having trouble adjusting? She looked around and noticed the distance between her and the other kids and remembered her snarky conversation with the one person who actually talked to her that day. She put the spent apple back on her tray and met the woman's piercing

green

eyes

.

"What's

it

like

?"

It's a beautiful place where we teach children how to embrace their differences and their own unique gifts.

What do I need to do to get in? Claribel asked, her interest now piqued.

Oh. The woman shooed the question with her hand. "It's nothing, really. There's just a tiny little test.

That's

all

."

What kind of a test? I'm really bad at math, Claribel admitted.

Oh, nothing like that. It's simple, really. If you're truly interested, I'll set it up with the school.

Claribel nodded. The woman stood up, clapped her gloved hands, as if excited by the potential of another student, and walked away. Her heels click-clacking all the way out of the lunchroom.

Claribel's name was called over the intercom while the class was in the middle of dissecting a frog. A happy excuse to miss this, Claribel thought.

She made her way to the office, as instructed, and was greeted by the school's principal.

Afternoon, Claribel. His voice shook like he was nervous.

The woman, Helen, rested her hand on his shoulder as if the two were long-time friends. This made Claribel feel better. She may look like a crazy lady, but the school must be legitimate if Principal Barnes knew

about

it

.

Ms. Thomas would like to administer a test to you. It's for a gifted program. She feels... Ms. Thomas, or Helen, squeezed his shoulder a little tighter and looked at him with pursed lips. "Er... we feel that you would be a perfect candidate."

Gifted? Claribel pondered on the word. She had never been considered gifted at anything. She didn't have any talents she was aware of, but Helen had said that she and her sister had been watching her. What had they seen in her that made them think she was gifted?

Claribel, naturally curious, began to feel giddy about

the

test

.

Let's get on with it, shall we? she said, ready to face this challenge with hope and determination. After all, this could be the turning of a new leaf, a phrase her social worker used every time she was sent to live with a new family. Claribel never believed her, of course, but now, in this moment, she had hope like she hadn't felt in a

long

time

.

Principal Barnes' protruding belly led the way to a small room attached to the library. He sat her in a sturdy wooden chair at a small table. Then he turned to Ms. Thomas, who placed a black skeleton key on the table in front

of

her

.

What do I do with this? Claribel asked after a few minutes since the adults hadn't given her any instructions.

That, my dear girl, is the test. You show us what is to be done with it. Ms. Thomas smiled.

Principal Barnes wiped sweat from his brow, glanced at her nervously, and left

the

room

.

You can do it, Claribel. Just think on it. Ms. Thomas then shut the heavy oak door with

a

thud

.

Claribel held the key in the palm of her hand. Her heart and

hopes

sank

.

2

Impossible

Thing

#

1

Keys are good for only one thing—unlocking. But what? Claribel thought. She tried to force the key through the room's door to no avail.

This is stupid, she thought aloud. This isn't a test. It's torture. She looked down at her watch. The minute hand crept ever so slowly around, testing her patience with

every

tick

.

She squeezed it, wiggled it, smelled it, and finally threw the key across the room in frustration.

Ow, she thought she heard

someone

say

.

She dismissed the thought, as no one was in the room with her, and she certainly didn't

say

it

.

Then a low huff followed.