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The Skeleton Leaf Stories: The Chosen One
The Skeleton Leaf Stories: The Chosen One
The Skeleton Leaf Stories: The Chosen One
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The Skeleton Leaf Stories: The Chosen One

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Ten year old Olivia learns she is the next generation of Chosen Ones from a fairy named Meera. Meera was sent to Olivia to teach her the importance of being a Chosen One. The next generation of Chosen Ones were sent with powers from the stars after Nature predicted that to much evil was coming for good to handle alone. A balance of good and evil must be kept, in order for the world to continue in all it's greatness. In one of evils attempts to take power away from good so that it may rule one day, Olivia along with Meera, her cat Music and her dog Ralph, must go face to face with that evil after it steals her mother away.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherAuthorHouse
Release dateJan 7, 2011
ISBN9781456716608
The Skeleton Leaf Stories: The Chosen One
Author

WILLIAM SHURTLIFF

Jane Boatwright-Cook loved to make up stories for her children to hear. Realizing how much they enjoyed them, she decided to put them in writing to share with others. She is a widow who lives on a small farm in rural Michigan. In between writing, she has five grandchildren to keep her busy along with her menagerie of rescued animals .

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    Book preview

    The Skeleton Leaf Stories - WILLIAM SHURTLIFF

    Table of Contents

    Chapter One:

    The Farm

    Chapter Two:

    The Gardens

    Chapter Three:

    Evil in the Meadows

    Chapter Four:

    Going into Town

    Chapter Five:

    Back at the Farm

    Chapter Six:

    Evil Rises from the Sludge

    Chapter Seven:

    Face to Face with Evil

    Chapter Eight:

    The New Day

    Acknowledgments:

    First I need to thank Meg, Bess, and Kylista whose child innocence’s gave me the idea for this book. Had it not been for one of you girls handing me the skeleton leaf you found, this book may never had come along.

    To my family who listened attentively to all my questions on what they thought to different scenarios for chapters. I know at times I drove you crazy. I love you guy’s for all your support for me to finish this book and for being my sounding boards.

    I also want to thank Jason Marion, from Marion brothers coffee shop, for keeping the coffee hot on those long day’s of writing. A much needed fuel to help me complete my thoughts. Also a big thank-you to Janet and Bill Shurtliff two very kind people who did the editing and illustrations for me and also gave me great idea‘s.

    Authorhouse so many names attached, but I would like to say thanks to each and everyone of you for taking me by the hand and walking me baby steps through the whole process of getting my book out.

    This book I dedicate to

    Robert, My Family and To All The Children Who Believe

    Chapter One:

    The Farm

    In a small town named Laurel, outside the big city of Hazelton, lived a young girl. That would be me. My full name is Olivia Anne Maitland, and I am all grown up now, but I was only ten years old in the story I am about to tell you. I have had many story adventures since I was ten, but this first story was a special one.

    It was the beginning of when I learned the truth about who I was and who I would become. I would learn the truth about my family and the farm on which I still live today. I would learn what it means to be a Chosen One. I would be the next generation. However, I do not want to get ahead of my story, so let us start at the very beginning.

    I had green eyes, red hair that hung down my back just like my mother’s, and as I said, I was only ten years old. I had across my nose and cheeks a spray of soft freckles that I tried to scrub off whenever I washed my face. I really did not much care for them. Funny thing was, the harder I scrubbed my face, the faster they seemed to populate.

    I was born the third daughter, of a third daughter, on the third day, of the third month, on this very farm. My mother did not make it to the hospital to have me as she did with my twin sisters. My mother would tell me the story of my birth before bed. She would always start the story with, Only unique little girls were born at home with such perfect dates for their birthday. Each time she told the story, I loved it even more.

    The Big Woods that surrounded us went on for miles. It also surrounded part of the town. Nearly everyone in Laurel was afraid of the Big Woods. They believed evil lived there because of the time, many years earlier, when a young boy named Kevin Tyler wandered into the Woods and became lost. People searched and searched but could not find a single clue to his whereabouts. Then a few weeks later, he turned up in town, all by himself. He talked of strange things that had happened to him. He told of how some wood creatures had taught him different skills to keep himself safe from anything bad that might occur. When the wood creatures felt they had finished teaching Kevin everything he needed to learn, they helped him find his way back to town.

    After that incident, the people of Laurel never dared to go into the Woods or even near them for fear that they, too, would end up not right in the head like Kevin. My parents as well as the parents of every other child in Laurel told that story so we would stay away from the Woods.

    I always felt really sorry for Kevin when they spoke of his stories because it must have been awful when nobody, not even your parents, believed what you tried to explain to them: the things that you saw and the things that happened to you in the Woods.

    It was the biggest story to ever come out of Laurel which was why every time we went to town, there were always one or two old-timers who would stop my mother or father to warn them to keep their daughters well away from the Woods, to keep them safe. My mother and father always smiled and answered politely that they were very much aware of the Woods and the stories about the Woods. The whole story about Kevin Tyler gave me the creeps because I was the same age as Kevin Tyler was when it happened to him.

    The family farm, as it was called, had been handed down from generation to generation on my mother’s side. Our stone house was built from stones taken right from the fields on the property. Looking at the front of the house, the first things you would notice were the beautiful white carved shutters on either side of the two big windows. The carvings were very unusual, and yet the design was very familiar to me. It looked like a skeleton leaf: a leaf you would find in the fall with no green or brown on it, just the stem with the veins. Or maybe the carving was of a feather. Whatever it was, it had what looked like a funny-shaped stem.

    I would stare at the shutters when I sat on the big bench out front. The bench was one of many spots where I would sit alone to figure things out. Sometimes I would just sit and try to imagine what the person saw when they carved the shutters. I loved sitting on the bench when I needed time to myself.

    Inside the house was a large kitchen where the family usually gathered. A big table with a bench on each side and an additional chair at each end was placed in the center of the room. Smaller stones gathered from the property made up the beautiful floor of the kitchen. They must have spent a lot of time choosing only the prettiest stones because the stones sparkled so brightly when my mother washed the floor. My sisters and I liked lying on the benches and pointing out our favorite ones. It was hard to choose just one favorite because they all were so beautiful.

    Sweet flowers and herbs hung drying from the large beams on the ceiling. Another small table was pushed against the wall in the corner where often you could find my mother working on boxing and stringing her herbs and flowers to sell. Next to the herb table was the doorway that led to the dining room and the staircase to the three bedrooms upstairs. At the top of the stairs was the biggest room, and it belonged to my parents. Next to my parents’ bedroom was the twins’, Sydney and Sarah’s, room. Across the hall and next to the bathroom was my room. I used to be scared in my bedroom all alone, but by this time, I was just glad that I did not have to share a room with my bratty sisters.

    Outside, the chickens would run around in the

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