Girl Chosen

By Amanda Rose

Why did Albert Einstein famously say that Imagination is more important than knowledge? Because flashes of brilliance are possible when we guide our minds outside of their usual pathways, and imagination is our vehicle to get there. That is why Einstein also said, If you want your kids to be intelligent, read them fairy tales. Exploring the territory of imagination is a journey of excitement. And this applies to grown-ups as well at least to those who wish to live a juicy life until the end.

GIRL CHOSEN is not your typical fairy tale. It does not whisk you to a land of princesses, dragons and enchanted palaces. And dont expect to find vampires or zombies there, either.

Instead, get ready to go to a tropical beach, through the eyes of the relatable Sara James. Expect everything you would hope for, from a good trip to the beach sunlight, romance and the thrill of the ocean. GIRL CHOSEN promises action-packed entertainment and expansive story-telling, sure to awaken the imagination.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Nov 1, 2013
• ISBN: 9781452582665

Amanda Rose

Amanda Rose, (1988-Present), was born in Toronto Ontario, to Paul and Deborah Rose. She grew up in Kingston Ontario, and has lived in Southern Ontario all of her life. Amanda took an interest in reading and writing from a young age. In high school she began competing her short stories in contests, and at age 16 she wrote her first adventure novel, Fire Fury Freedom (2018). In her college years she continued to compete her stories, and two years in a row won first prize among many competing schools. In her early twenties she was featured in the Canadian Anthologies produced by the Poetry Institute of Canada, both for poetry and short stories. Many of Amanda's Short Stories and Poetry pieces are available in her Anthology, A Strange Dream: An Anthology of Short Stories and Poetry (2018). Amanda enjoys writing on a wide variety of topics, and in various styles. Her first publication, Manifesting on Purpose (2018) ties back to her roots in new age studies with the Law of Attraction. Her second Publication, Fire Fury Freedom (2018) is the pride and joy of a lifetime of writing for Amanda, exploring a Dystopian world in an action-adventure fantasy. It is Amanda's hope that her works of literature inspire thoughtful change, and spark the imagination.

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Copyright © 2013 Amanda Rose.

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ISBN: 978-1-4525-8265-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4525-8266-5 (e)

Balboa Press rev. date: 10/31/2013

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1   The Storm

Chapter 2   The Desert

Chapter 3   Anjalie

Chapter 4   The First Star Jewel Ruby

Chapter 5   The Second Star Jewel Aquamarine

Chapter 6   The Third Star Jewel Topaz

Chapter 7   The Island

Chapter 8   The Fourth Star Jewel Emerald

Chapter 9   The Fifth Star Jewel Sapphire

Chapter 10   The Largest Island

Chapter 11   Sekoya

Chapter 12   The Sixth Star Jewel Amethyst

Chapter 13   Culmination

Chapter 14   The Seventh Star Jewel The Epitome of Freedom

Afterword

FOR JOSHUA

"I sat upon a promontory, and heard a mermaid,

on a dolphin’s back,

uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath,

that the rude sea grew civil at her song;

And certain stars shot madly from their spheres,

to hear the sea maid’s music."

~WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thank you to my Mother, a literary genius who gave me an endless supply of books as a child – all kinds of books – that surely planted the seed in my young mind to love literature with a passion that led me to write. Thank you for always encouraging me to follow my heart, and then being there to talk about it along the way.

I am grateful to my solid circle of girlfriends that I grew up with in Utah: you know who you are. You provide a grounding force in my life as I am whisked away into the writing of fantasy; you remind me to keep it real. We are friends for life.

Mahalo to the magical island of Kauai, and to all of my beloved ohana there.

I am thankful for Brie and Kate – our weekly calls have been instrumental in keeping me motivated and accountable. Thank you for your invaluable friendships!

I offer a heartfelt thank you to Kate for painting the breathtaking cover for GIRL CHOSEN.

Much gratitude goes to Carolyn Sasich Leitko, whose generosity made this book possible.

And I am deeply grateful for my handsome husband and two amazing children, for providing the home space for me to write this book, and also the laughter, music and love that brighten my days.

CHAPTER ONE

The Storm

My ocean adventure never would have happened if it weren’t for my best friend, Kai. It’s not like it had anything to do with Kai directly, since the luminous lady from a star hadn’t appeared to her – she’d appeared to me.

But, if I hadn’t known Kai, I would never have agreed to go on that wild expedition across the Satchandian Divide. Such spontaneity was not in my nature. Spontaneity was Kai’s talent – and my sense of adventure was continually stimulated, just by hanging out with her. Kai loved convincing me to join her on outdoor escapades; she was constantly telling me to just ‘chill out’ and enjoy the thrill of not knowing what will happen next. I was totally certain that if it wasn’t for Kai, I wouldn’t have even seen the mermaids, let alone joined them.

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It all started on an average Tuesday in February, during our last year of middle school. Kai convinced me that, instead of following our usual routine of taking the bus home, we should walk. C’mon, Sara. Don’t be such a slave to the routine. It will give us a chance to talk before we have to do our homework.

I agreed, and we set off. The winter sun touched Kai’s dark-red hair, and it gleamed like a crimson sunset. Several shades deeper than her mother’s strawberry blonde, her hair is an exquisite color that I have never seen on another person. Her bronze skin and defined musculature are like prizes passed along her father’s bloodline, which is pure Hawaiian. Her father also gave Kai her name, which is actually Kailani – Hawaiian for ‘Heavenly Ocean.’ I wouldn’t know much about those, being an Arizona girl my whole life.

There is something unique about the way Kai holds herself – differently from the other kids at school – with her head high. She is strength and grace rolled up together. It’s like she knows something we don’t, some great, shining secret handed down through her ancestral line straight from the sea itself.

"I can’t wait to go to high school next year, Kai was saying. Middle school is really starting to get my down…" she was interrupted by a sudden thunderclap so loud it seemed to rock the earth itself. We stopped walking to shield our ears from the intense reverberation.

The sky suddenly changed color, from the icy blue of a clear winter’s afternoon to the heavy dark-grey of a summer storm. Monsoons are a summer occurrence in Arizona, but the wind that blew down the street in a powerful gust seemed oblivious that it was now February. The wind whipped my long, white-blonde hair against my face, stinging my cheeks. Again the thunder raged so loudly, it had to be close.

What is going on? Kai asked excitedly, as if a monsoon was the perfect distraction to her irritation with school.

I’ve lived in Arizona my whole life and I’ve never heard of a monsoon this time of year, I said, my voice shaking. The wind continued to whip around us, carrying little sticks and old schoolwork papers. We covered our faces with our arms. We’re too far from home. Let’s go back to school.

Kai groaned, That’s the last place I want to go… She was interrupted by a fantastic display of light against the darkening sky and then a crack of thunder so loud I was surprised my head didn’t explode.

I don’t care, I shouted. This is freaky!

The sky flashed with electricity and the wind picked up intensity so that the bushes and trees swayed crazily. An arm of electrified-light reached down from the sky and touched the outstretched branch of a tree across the street from us. There was another deafening clap, and fire burst into life in the leafless tree, blazing brightly against the dark-grey sky.

Wow that was awesome, Kai said - she thrived on outdoor adventure and was not easily shaken.

"Are you kidding me? Let’s go!" A jolt of hot fear pumped through my veins as the angry-looking fire continued to consume the dry branches of the tree. I began running as fast as I could back toward school, my school-bag thumping against my side awkwardly. Kai also sprinted into action and her hair flew out behind her like the crimson cape of a superhero.

As soon as we reached our schoolyard, the echoing voice of Mr. Wright, our principal, was amplified by the outdoor loudspeakers, Students, get back into the school building! A monsoon warning has been issued, effective immediately. I repeat, get back into the building right now!

We ran toward the building as a powerful gust of wind blasted us, again stinging our arms with the small sticks it had picked up on its reckless journey. Kai and I made it to the school-building just in time; as the heavy glass door shut behind us, a large tree branch slammed into it with an unsettling thud. I gasped for air as panic constricted my throat. It was creepy to have a monsoon in February, and I wished I were home.

There were kids everywhere inside the front foyer; most of them looked pale and scared. Wow, Kai said, her eyes glowing with excitement. That was cool.

You’re crazy, I said.

There were more shockingly loud thumps as other large pieces of debris collided with the building. Teachers and administrators ushered all of us into the assembly room, which was in the center of the school and secure from the tempestuous wind, where we waited out the storm together.

It’s weird, I was never able to clearly remember that half hour in the assembly room; I spent that time in a mild state of shock, I guess. The time during that freak storm has a hazy cloud surrounding it when I search for it in my memory. But Kai remembers, and she told me that the whole school building had shaken with the intense force of the unseasonable monsoon until she had been sure it was going to crumble right onto our heads.

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The following weekend, Kai and I were sitting on my queen bed with my cloudlike down-comforter over our feet, talking. That storm had passed after a half an hour, but the weather had remained windy all week.

My room was always a cozy place to hang out on a day like this. The wide-paneled, dark wooden floor was mostly covered by a creamy, soft rug that you could sink your feet into pleasantly on a windy day. The large windows were covered by filmy-white curtains that allowed in a lot of natural sunlight, which today was muted and mellow. My ballet slippers hung from one wall, their shiny pink ribbons twirling as if in remembrance of me spinning across the dance studio. A large cork board had fun cutouts from magazines, and silly pictures of Kai and me taken in those little booths that emit your pictures from a slot, as if you had won a prize.

I can’t believe Mrs. Leon said that the monsoon was due to global warming, I said, referring to our biology teacher, who had dedicated a whole period to a discussion of last week’s storm.

It makes sense, Kai replied. Like she said, there’s too much pollution on this planet, and it’s trapped in our atmosphere, causing the temperatures to rise unnaturally. The warm air created the perfect conditions for a monsoon. The wind doesn’t know it’s not supposed to blow like that in February.

"I mean, I’ve known that global warming was a possibility, but knowing about it and experiencing it are definitely two different things." I shivered and pulled the comforter up over my legs. My stomach felt tight with worry over the strange weather.

No doubt, Kai agreed. It’s out of control. I guess we just have to expect the unexpected.

Easy for you to say! You’ve always loved anything to do with nature, whether it follows the forecast, or not.

Kai grinned. It was true; she found lightning storms exhilarating and felt the best thing to do in a heavy snowstorm was to run around outside and enjoy it. Unexpected twists are the ground for true adventure, she said confidently.

But, what about those of us who aren’t looking for unexpected twists? There are plenty of people who want to just go about our business in a routine way. I was extremely unsettled by weather that didn’t do what it was supposed to do. It made me feel so vulnerable.

She laughed affectionately. You’re so funny, Sara. Don’t worry; I’m sure that storm was a one-of-a-kind. You’ll be fine. Business as usual!

I wanted to believe her. But somehow, I just couldn’t.

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I had been feeling strangely ever since the freak storm. It was as if that unpredictable wind had reached inside my stomach and opened something up that wasn’t there before – like a hole. And if I searched within myself just a little bit, I could feel what was on the other side of this gaping hole. It was desire. A new longing had been planted within me, a yearning to break free of everything I had ever been, or known.

I had always been a very routine person. I thrived on the ordinary – I lived each day according to schedule.

But something was changing. As the days after the monsoon passed, each one felt duller than the one before. With each passing day, the person I actually was felt miles away from the person I suddenly longed to become – someone exciting and daring. Vulnerability had been brought to my awareness by the storm, but instead of shrinking under this vulnerability in fear, I was experiencing a drive to meet it with bravery, and actually do something. Since I didn’t have any idea exactly what I wanted to do, frustration was building in my body.

I was beginning to feel like I no longer knew myself – and this was before the dreams of the hot forest boy even started.

CHAPTER TWO

The Desert

My friendship with Kailani extended back further than my memory. We were growing up as next door neighbors in a suburb in Northern Arizona. Our mothers, Meg and Annie, were also friends and just like us, they were an unlikely duo. My mom, Meg, played tennis twice a week and wore her blonde hair in a perfectly styled mom-haircut. She loved wearing sophisticated clothing, and redecorating our living room so that it was always up with the latest trends: the elegant ones. We counted on her when we needed a ride, or a spontaneous picnic lunch – she was always there.

Sharply contrasting my mom’s conservative methods were Annie’s modern-day Flower Child ways. She had waist-length, strawberry-colored hair that swished over her back when she walked. She wore long, flowing skirts; halter tops; and dangly, silver earrings that glinted in the sunlight. She loved health food stores and rock concerts, and it was impossible to predict her changeable nature.

When Annie, Kamalei (Kai’s dad), and Kai moved into the stucco house next to ours, Annie became determined to become my mom’s friend, even though they obviously had very little in common. Against nearly impossible odds (my mom had a full schedule, and wasn’t usually friends with rock-concert-goers), Annie had succeeded. See, Kai’s mom is hilarious, and my mom, who is typically very serious, was amazed at how fun it was to laugh. Laughing became their common ground.

And so, when we were babies, Kai and I were placed side by side on quilts, with our tiny hands brushing one another’s arms and our drool dribbling into the same wet spot on the blankets. Kai with her dark-red hair, and mischievous brown eyes, and me with my hair the color of a white-sand beach, and sapphire-blue eyes, were captured in photographs displayed around both our houses: first as babies, then into toddler-hood and beyond.

Growing up, we were inseparable. Kai’s amazing imagination made our childhood interesting, and I happily played along with her ideas of fairy dens and mysterious other realms filled with adventure. Then, at the end of the day, I always returned home to my orderly house, to my routine life of nightly dinner at seven, and bedtime at ten, with homework and bath-time in between. I was allowed to watch one hour of T.V. The only variations were the two evenings I was at dance class. The steadiness of my life used to be so comforting.

No one ever understood how Kai and I could possibly be so close. I wore clothes that blended in with what everyone else wore – I liked being inconspicuous. I brushed my long hair a couple times a day to keep it shiny, and I loved a good lip gloss. Not Kai. Her hair hung in a thick braid down her back, with escaped wisps surrounding her face like little rays of sun. Sometimes she would actually sleep in her braid and wear the same one to school the next day. Kai made sure her clothes stood out, usually wearing a lot of black and ripped denim, which was not the norm at our school. She even painted her fingernails black. Her edge-y clothes and her uniquely beautiful skin-hair combination truly set her apart.

The other ballerinas at school told me I was crazy for being Kai’s best friend; they said that her sense of fashion was just plain weird. But I ignored them. Kai was like a part of me, half of the whole. I refused to be the kind of person who would ditch her best friend for no good reason. Who cared about fashion when Kai was much more fun than anyone else in our class?

Besides, I secretly thought that her black clothes and dark makeup were cool - even though I would never be brave enough to wear them myself. There was part of me that drew great pleasure out of shocking people, in this very passive way, since it was Kai who actually did all the daring. And somewhere in the back of my consciousness I knew that without Kai, my life would be painfully boring.

Anyway, I didn’t dance to gain popularity with the other dancers; I danced because it was fun.

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One winter’s afternoon in March when we were fifteen years-old,