Starlight Whispers

By Fran Fabiano

Lorilla lived an ordinary life as a child. She was quite comfortable and happy living with her mother in a small Midwestern town. As Lorilla approaches her fourteenth birthday, strange things begin to happen. She keeps having a recurring dream of a field of stars, sees reflections of a stranger who appears out of nowhere, hears whispers in the night, and makes an unlikely friendship with a stray cat. After her birthday, a new boy in town named Foster befriends Lorilla. His presence begins to bring about more mysterious changes. She discovers abilities that she could have never dreamed of and learns the truth about who she really is. Now she and Foster must begin a perilous journey to save her family and enter into a new world. Starlight Whispers takes you down a winding road of magic, mystery, and courage and shows the true meaning of friendship and young love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9781664187429

Fran Fabiano

Writer and artist Fran Fabiano is a former nursery schoolteacher. After twelve years of working with preschool-aged children, she started her own business, combining her love of teaching with her love of art. She is now the owner of Pixie Art Productions, a company that offers fine art instruction for children, teens, and adults; commission artwork; and unique gifts. Another dream for Fran was, of course, to write for children and teens so that their love of books could begin early on in life as hers did. As a child, Fran was always looking for the magic in the world. She remembers her grandmother saying how she was always searching for fairies in the garden and along the edge of the forest. Her artwork and writings reflect her love of animals, nature, and the magical realm. She is a published poet and also the writer and illustrator of the children’s book Erin, which was published under the name of Frances Catherine Post. She lives in upstate New York with the love of her life and their two cats. Fran hopes to write more adventures for teenagers and young children in the future.

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Copyright © 2021 by Fran Fabiano.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 07/29/2021

Xlibris

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CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter 1 Beaver Crossing

Chapter 2 School Days

Chapter 3 An Unexpected Friend

Chapter 4 Mirror, Mirror

Chapter 5 A Birthday Surprise

Chapter 6 A Piece to the Puzzle

Chapter 7 Now You See Her, Now You Don’t

Chapter 8 Mama’s Story

Chapter 9 The Elven Star

Chapter 10 Practice Makes Perfect

Chapter 11 Days Become Months

Chapter 12 Beaver Daze

Chapter 13 A Little Breeze

Chapter 14 A Storm Is Brewing

Chapter 15 The Aftermath

Chapter 16 Mama Taken

Chapter 17 A New Journey Started

Chapter 18 Fire Starter

Chapter 19 Run, Run While You Can

Chapter 20 Crossing the Gate

Epilogue

Look for the extraordinary in the ordinary.

Prologue

I never thought that life would turn out the way it did. Does anyone ever think it does? I was just an ordinary girl, growing up in an ordinary town, or so I thought I was. At the time, I was just thirteen years old approaching my fourteenth birthday, living with my mother in what I would call a small house in a small town. Nothing unusual or unexpected ever happened. I guess life you could say was rather boring and uneventful. Until one day my life took a turn, and things were never quite the same again. This is the story, my story, of a small-town girl, whose destiny would change her life and the life of those around her forever.

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1

Beaver Crossing

The bright morning sun filtered through my bedroom window. It was a Saturday in early February. No school today. It was my day to help Mama around the house. I lazily yawned and scooted on my bright-pink slippers that I left beside the side of my bed. I peeked out of the frost-covered window at the snow coating my backyard. How pretty, I thought. The sun was casting pink and golden hues on the fluffy blanket outside.

I walked across my tiny bedroom to my dresser and halfheartedly picked up my brush. I began brushing through my tousled hair. I gazed at my reflection. I had long, straight dark-brown hair, parted down the middle, which cascaded halfway down my back. My facial features were delicate, and my form was quite petite. I had a pert little nose that resembled my mother’s. My eyes were of the bluest blue, not like Mama’s, which were a very light blue. Maybe I had gotten my eyes from my father, whom I had never met. He had died before I was born.

I walked down the hallway to the kitchen, a bright-yellow room with beige tile. The sunlight that shone through the window over the kitchen sink lit up Mama’s hair with a golden shine. Abigail, my mother, stood in front of the stove, making pancakes. This was our Saturday-morning-ritual breakfast. Mama was so pretty, petite with delicate features like me, but her hair was pale blond and reached a little past her shoulders. Her eyes were of the palest blue. She had a sweet disposition and a soft-spoken voice. My heart swelled with the love that I felt for her.

Good morning, Lorilla. Did you sleep well? she greeted me. Lorilla, that’s my name. I always thought that it was a little odd, not quite sure why my mother chose it for me. She told me that it was a lovely name that went way back in our family tree.

I did, Mama. Are you working today? I asked.

She replied, Just for six hours. When I come home later, we can watch a movie and make some popcorn. How does that sound? Mama worked at the local farmer’s market, which was nine miles from the cornfields, just outside of our town. This time of year, it was a little slow, but she still made enough money to pay the bills. Would you just vacuum and clean up the breakfast dishes when we’re finished please? she asked.

No problem. I think I’ll ride my bike into town later. The snow makes everything look like a fairyland, I said. I loved anything that reminded me of those magical places in the storybooks that my mother used to read to me when I was a young child.

After breakfast, Mama kissed me on the cheek, threw on her coat, and hurriedly left for work. I began the task of cleaning up the breakfast dishes. Soon after, I pulled out the vacuum cleaner from the hall closet and began my chore of cleaning the house. Our house was small, but comfortable. There was the kitchen, bright and cheery, and a small living room with a sofa that had two end tables with lamps on each side, an armchair, coffee table, and a TV. There was one bathroom that Mama and I shared and two bedrooms, each consisting of a twin bed and dresser in my room and a full-size bed and dresser in Mama’s room. There was a small porch on the front of the house with two rocking chairs. We liked to sit outside in the evenings during the spring, summer, and fall.

I hurriedly finished up. I was anxious to get outside before the snow started to melt and the fairyland started to diminish. I grabbed my winter coat and flew down the porch steps. I took my bike out of the one-car garage and began to pedal into town.

Beaver Crossing. That’s the name of the town I live in. Located in Seward County, in southeast Nebraska. Population 398. A town that was not much to look at. If you were driving through and blinked, you might miss it. The streets were quiet. Not too many people liked to venture out into the cold. The Main Street in town consisted of a grocery store, a hardware store, a pharmacy, and an ice cream stand that was closed for the season. Mr. Johnson, who owned the drugstore, stood on the front steps and waved. Good afternoon, Lorilla. Seems like you’re one of the only ones who like this weather, he said jovially.

How could you not, I said. It’s amazing out here!

Mr. Johnson chuckled. There should be more folks as optimistic as you, he said. "Stop inside if you start feeling