Castings: Down to Sleep

By Tracy Gramesty

Thomas Murphy is a thirteen year old boy whose life has been turned upside down by the death of his sister and his sudden move to a new town. In the midst of this turmoil and angst he is starting a new school, making friends, and defending himself against a ruthless bully he learns he has a special gift. Thomas is able to enter into peoples dreams and lead them on their right path. He must listen, guide, protect, and defend his gift as a Caster. With all good that is brought through the Casters of the world, evil must follow. The Fallen are out to use their same powers to conjure wealth and manipulate the people of the world to do their bidding. The challenge and battle begins between the good and evil and it all happens in our dreams.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: May 30, 2014
• ISBN: 9781312236721

Book preview

Castings: Down to Sleep

Castings: Down to Sleep

By Tracy Gramesty

Copyright © 2006, Tracy Gramesty

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of both publisher and author. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

ISBN: 978-1-312-23672-1

Chapter 1: What happened to Resa?

It had been twenty-two hours since Resa went missing.  Thomas kept replaying the day in his head. It had been like every other day in May, no strange events or happenings that would have sent Resa out of their house on Twilight Lane.  The bus ride home from school had been uneventful.  Thomas had sat in the middle with the other seventh graders, while Resa had been in the back with all her eighth-grade friends.  The two had always been close——at least as close as a brother and sister could be. 

Resa was only a year older than Thomas. They were always in the same school, always took the same bus, and although Resa was the smart and pretty one, Thomas’ unkempt appearance and lackluster performance in school complemented the pair.  Resa had spent many an afternoon quizzing Thomas on his vocabulary work or helping him figure out his pre-algebra homework, ignoring his non-stop complaining.  In fact, when Thomas had found the secret stash of old science tests in Resa’s room, which she had aced the year before, she had promptly burned them.  In addition, she had let all the teachers know that Thomas would definitely want to cheat, he would need new tests, and he should be held accountable for learning the information, not just cheating off of her.

Thomas scowled.  Resa’s propensity for doing the right thing often annoyed him, but then she would say or do something hysterical, completely out of character, which would break the tension and win Thomas back over to her side.  He just couldn’t say mad at her. She was just an infectious person.  Sometimes he would just watch her when she was with her friend or talking to their parents. She always seemed to be trying to fight between doing what was right and keeping everyone happy.  In the end, she would manage to do both——a true diplomat, their parents would say.

That afternoon, when the bus dropped them off at Twilight Lane, their walk had been short up the steep hill and then back down again to the little white house at the end of the road.  Their house was situated at a dead end, so not much traffic passed by. When their mother had gone back to work, Thomas and Resa started walking home together, talking about the day, gossiping about kids at school, and parting ways once they got home to go to their respective rooms.  It was a tradition and, given the quiet street, not a dangerous walk.

At home, Resa would shut the door to her room, put on her music, and get all her work done right away.  Meanwhile, Thomas would mull about the house, watch TV, eat a snack, play on the computer and then——just before his parents got home——quickly try to get his homework done.  For a long time, he got away with the half-ass job he did——until a rather uncomfortable phone call from his English teacher to his mother, which led to getting grounded and his mother now checking his homework every day as soon as she got home from work.  Often Resa would knock on his door around 4:30 and remind him to get started on his homework or he would lose his computer privileges for the night. 

Tonight he had no homework.  That morning at school the principal had announced no homework due to the upcoming standardized testing, which meant tonight Thomas was free! Now he wished he had homework that night. He prayed that Resa would knock on his door. He would do anything he had to just to know where she was, if she was ok. 

His parents weren’t too tough on him, they just wanted him to do the best he could, try his hardest. If that meant he got a C or B-, that was okay as long as he tried.  His problem was that he never really tried as hard as he could. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe he could do it, it’s that he didn’t really want to. He knew this and accepted it.  Thomas always knew he could be much more, do much better, but nothing ever motivated him. He never really believed in himself enough to try. Resa called it a why bother attitude. 

Resa was different. She worked hard, she put 100% into everything she did——sometimes to the point of driving herself to exhaustion. She wanted the extra credit assignments.  She was driven, and everyone who knew her was well aware she was going to do great things.  Even her appearance was just right, with her clothes always ironed, her hair always in a perfect ponytail, face washed with just a little lip gloss: polished, polite, perfect. 

Thomas often just rolled out of bed, brushed his hair with his fingers, threw water on his face, put on whatever clothes didn’t smell, and deemed himself ready.  He was polite to people and had friends. Even a few girls were starting to notice him (his long hair actually) and shoot smiles across the room.  But like everything else, he never put a lot of effort into it.  He did what came easy and natural to him, no biggie. Plus, he was just thirteen, so who cared? He had a long time before he had to figure anything of importance out.

Thomas sighed heavily.  It had been twenty-two hours since his parents had come home and noticed her missing.  He had heard the garage door open, signaling that his parents had come home.  Usually he and Resa would emerge from their rooms to greet them and spend some time together while his mother made dinner, but he had met his mother as she walked out of Resa’s room.

Thomas, where is Resa? Her voice had held a tinge of panic.  She was still in her work clothes: a blouse, skirt, and heels, as always. It was the dress code for all the paralegals at the law office where she worked. His mom often complained it was old fashioned, but she did it anyway. In this economy, kids, she would say, a job is a job, and a good job is hard to come by. She had stayed home with the kids until Thomas was in the second grade, then had decided to go back to work.

Thomas, she said again, where is Resa?

Thomas sat at the kitchen table and looked up somewhat confused. Her room, right?  He shrugged. I haven’t seen her since we got home. I just assumed… He had let his words hang in the air, realizing that something had gone wrong.

He had quickly reviewed the afternoon in his mind, searching for something unusual, but he found nothing: no phone calls, no knocks on the door, no sounds of her leaving.  Nothing.  He could not think of anything that would have caused Resa to leave the house. 

He hadn’t noticed his father entering the house and checking Resa’s room. She’s not here, he had stated.  She didn’t tell you she was leaving? Didn’t leave a note? He had shuffled through the papers on the kitchen countertop, and the panic in his actions had been clear.  He had not changed out of his work clothes yet either.  He did something in finance and/or accounting, Thomas wasn’t sure which; he just knew it had something to do with numbers and math——two subjects lost on Thomas.

His dad had moved on from his shuffling and hit the no message button on the phone three times before looking at Thomas again.  Murph, no idea where she could be?

His dad had called him Murph, the nickname his father had in college, passing it down to his only son.

No, Dad, I have no idea, Thomas had said, trying to ignore the feeling that part of this was his fault. I cant believe she’s not there. Is she outside? Maybe at a friend’s? She wouldn’t leave without telling me. 

He hadn’t known how to respond to the events unfolding in front of him. This situation was completely new and out of his league.  Resa was the good one, the responsible one. If Thomas had left without a note, it would have been more believable. They all would have thrown up their hands and said, Oh that Thomas, always so forgetful, then just waited for him to return home.

But not Resa. This was completely out of character for her.

His sister was the responsible one; although she was only eleven months older, she was much more mature. She was always the one to remind him how lucky they were to have two loving parents who only yelled or got on their case when we really needed it. She was the one who reminded him that they should get along because someday he might need a kidney from her. She was the one who made their family fun.

Thomas had his fear deepen while watching his parents pull out a list of numbers, making phone call after phone call to all of Resa’s friends. He had heard them mention names he didn’t even recognize.  They had seemed to have a plan, like they were following some preparation for tragedy.  They had reacted just as they should have, with focus and organization.

When the numbers on the list didn’t turn up Resa they paused, looking at one another, trying to hide their defeat from Thomas.

Aiden, we have to––

His father had interrupted her.  I know. I’ll call the police. He had dialed 911, explaining that Resa had gone missing after walking home with Thomas.  He briefly described her: fourteen years old, brown shoulder-length hair, curly, 5’3", and wearing a black sweatshirt and jeans the last time she was seen.

After his dad had finished the call, his parents had looked at each other again, sharing a long stare. They had said nothing, but their expressions had told Thomas enough.

I’m sorry, Mom, Thomas had said. I guess I should have known she was gone or checked on her.  We always do our own thing when we get home.

She had reached out and embraced him. Thomas, it’s not your fault. She shouldn’t have left without telling us. She knows what to do, she knows the protocol.

He had pulled away from his mom a bit and looked up into her face. What a strange word to use. Protocol?

She let him go, clearly annoyed. You know what I mean: Rules! She barked at him, and Thomas realized just how strained her temperament was.

Sorry, Mom. He was taken aback by her anger.

No, Thomas, it’s fine. I’m sorry, I’m just stressed, I’m worried. She had started to putter around the kitchen, wiping off the counter, moving things around, and wiping off the counter again.

Suddenly Thomas’s stomach had grumbled, and he remembered how hungry he was. Not a priority, Thomas, not a priority.

Instead Thomas had gone back to his room to try and make sense of the thoughts in his mind.  He couldn’t believe Resa was missing. Had she been taken? There had been no sign of distress.  She would never run away, never leave and not come back, not Resa.

That night, he had only managed about twenty minutes of sleep, which had quickly turned into a nightmare in which she was dead. He had woken up cringing.  She was the closest friend he had. Yes, he admitted to himself, it was pathetic that a thirteen-year–old’s best friend was his sister, but she was.

The night had dragged on until daylight slowly crept over the horizon. The dull morning sun had turned into an afternoon blaze shining through the windows as morning turned into afternoon and afternoon into night, but still they had heard no word. They had all stayed home that day.  Thomas had spent most of his time wandering around the house, pretending to watch TV, leafing through magazines.  His thoughts always circled back to one question: Where on earth was Resa?  The few times he was able to distract himself it had always ended badly, a vision of his sister hurt or dead.

His parents were dealing in their own ways.  If they weren’t on the phone with the police, they were driving around looking for Resa, hoping to find something, trying to understand how she just disappeared.  The day became a fog of hoping and praying for something, anything. As the evening light softly lit the house, Thomas felt entombed in the silence.

Chapter 2: Ebb and flow

Now it would begin again, Resa thought.

It would begin with Thomas, even though it was never the plan to include Thomas. He was not strong enough; he did not have the ability to separate himself from the missions.  Resa knew he would never be able to keep his emotions out of it. She knew it would be so easy for Hansford to get to him. 

She always believed she could do it all herself, she was that strong and that powerful.  As she felt her life ebb from her, she knew they would want Thomas now.  She knew that the only way to save…well, everyone…was to get Thomas involved. And her parents. What would they do if they lost Thomas too? The danger was so great, their power was so great. 

Her eyes closed as she felt the cars whizzing by. No, not this, not like this. She was too smart for this; she should have stayed home. He had lured her out, taunted her, and she had taken the bait. Now, it could all disappear. What on earth would the dreams do without them? How would they dream alone?

She smiled. How ironic was it that most people felt they are the most alone, that their minds are uninfluenced when they dream, when in fact it is the complete opposite.  No dream goes unnoticed, no decision is made totally alone. No, the dreamers had no idea about the blessing they were given when Casters were created. Casters were there to protect, serve, and help everyone, even the evil ones.

She knew it would be a while before anyone found her. Her parents would be devastated, and Thomas——poor Thomas——how would he go on without her? Isaac would be a help, a friend to him, if he allowed him in, if Thomas could believe and feel his ability.  She had expectations as to where she was going, who she would see. She would be able to do good still, not in the same way, but she would still protect her family, and keep an eye on Hansford, if she could.  This was only the beginning, and she knew he would stop at nothing to succeed, to obliterate Casters. 

She visited Isaac that night. His grief was overwhelming, but they had both known this was a real possibility. Now, it was real.  She asked him to cast, to send someone to get her. Her family would need to know for sure, to know she was gone.

Chapter 3: Saying goodbye

In the early evening, the doorbell rang.

His mother began to sob. A phone call was good; a doorbell meant one of two things: Resa was home or the police had to tell them the bad news in person. Thomas jumped up. He wanted to know, he needed an answer.  He grabbed the handle, but suddenly faced trepidation. He slowly pulled the door open, closing his eyes for a moment in the hopes that he would open them and find Resa at the door. When he peeked around the door, he saw the tall muscular arm, clad in blue, then a gun holster, badge, and hat. It was the police, coming to tell them Resa was dead.

I need to speak with your father, the officer said simply to Thomas.

His dad was already at the door.

I’m so sorry, Mr. Murphy. I’m afraid we found your daughter; we were too late to save her. I am so sorry. The officer looked away for a moment, unable to look Thomas’ father in the eye. We will need you to come with us to make the identification. His voice was low, as if saying it quietly would make it all better. 

Thomas turned to his mother, but she said nothing. Instead, she turned and went to her room. He knew she didn’t want to go, she didn’t want to see her daughter dead; she would choose to remember her alive.  He knew he would not see her the rest of the night. 

Thomas’ father left with the police. Thomas sat at the dining room table, waiting.  He didn’t know what he was waiting for, he just waited. 

When his father came home more than three hours later, it was obvious he had been crying.  His face was red and blotchy and his eyes bloodshot, but he was calm. He sat in the chair, slowly, deliberately, like a ten-pound weight was on his shoulders. He hunched over, staring down at the table.

I don’t want to tell you this, Thomas. No father should ever have to.  He let out a quick uncontrollable sob, coughing to stop it, hide it.  It was a hit and run, she was thrown to the side of the road and rolled down a hill. I’m surprised the police found her so quickly. He choked back another sob. "It was an accident really, one of the officers said he was always telling his daughter to be careful on that road, if she got hit no one would ever find