Coven of the Dead Vol 1

By B. D. Panthona

Wendy has an unusual accord with death, considering she grows up to work for the Norse Goddess of the Underworld. After seeing her mother be taken to the afterlife by an entity surrounded by flowing flame, she has never seen death the same way. As she becomes an adult

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sierra Freemyer-Trujillo
• Release date: Oct 29, 2022
• ISBN: 9798986017426

Book preview

Prologue

Darkness.

Not the lonely, isolating darkness that one expects.

The stillness before sleep.

The warm darkness that comes from a lover cuddled up next to you.

The lull of ignoring the problems of the world to be focused on later.

The darkness of peace and happiness.

Before I knew it, the awareness slipped away as I ventured into sleep...

I steal you...Yes,

The voice. Though it was wispy, as if spoken through a tunnel, I could recognize it easily. I was not surprised when I felt a pull on my spirit. I was carried through the darkness. As dreams do, I was suddenly in front of an old wooden door. The elaborate symbol carved on the front of it  pulsed with green and dark violet power. The skill from the Nordic worshipers of old, carved each swirl and symbol with precision. The face of Hel, the Nordic goddess of the underworld, was in the middle of the sigil circle. Before I could do anything the door opened, splitting the face down the middle.

Small scattered lights poorly lit the area. It took concentration to see how the lights were suspended in the air. Scented candles were randomly placed on top of boxes, treasures, and shelves, light dancing on relics and books alike.

What could look like a museum to the untrained eye, filled with art, sculptures, and scrolls were scattered in piles. Organized piles, but piles nonetheless. As I walked through the straight pathway, the piles of junk slowly became contemporary, until I was walking over stuffed animals. A light shot through the darkness as I got closer to the center of the hoarding mess. Though a few new things sat on the bookshelves, it wasn’t suffocating.

I could see her now, illuminated by the computer screens that were on a large desk, cluttered by figurines, gaming systems, and her computer. Her pale face seemed ghost white from the light. The only thing distinguishing her face from her white hair was that her hair was unnaturally shiny, shimmering from the candles and computer light around her. Upon my approach, Hel paused the three things she was doing on her multiple monitors. Hel took her headphones off, placing them on top of her desk near her keyboard. Once everything was no longer at risk of falling off the desk, Hel turned my way.

You came! she smiled, an amused grin and she threw up her hands, the long sleeves on her 'cozy reaper robe' falling up her shoulders as she did.

I smiled, Even if I had a choice, I was about to see you anyway.

Oh? her hands dropped as she tilted her head to the side. Her smile stayed though. Need my help so soon?

I waved my left hand in front of my face, Nothing too serious. I finished the scroll you let me borrow and I wanted to switch you out. I also forgot to get your Animal Crossing ID so I could visit your town.

First off, Hel started, that was supposed to be for the boy, but I knew you couldn't resist. Though you know the deal. I want your story before you get anyone else's.

I’m not letting you take my soul when I die, I repeated while I restrained the eye roll.

But why nooottttt? The smile still hinted at her lips as she halfheartedly threw her hands in an overly dramatic fashion. I have access to the power of the underworld... well, one of the underworlds. But! she put her hands to her hips, I know that your heart and soul belong to the light nuisance. So, how about a compromise? 

I stood silently for a second, Hel wasn't a trickster god. In the time I have known her she has always been a straight arrow among the twisting tongues of the other entities I have dealt with. She has never given me a reason to distrust her.

Compromise? I asked.

Her eyes lit up, " Yes. Everyone can deal with a compromise."

Hel swiveled behind her and stood up out of her gamer chair. I did some thinking on how you can tell me your story without my contract controlling your soul. She continued as she went to a large wooden bookcase, only illuminated by a few candles on the shelves that held figurines instead of books. I could only see an Eeyore decorative clock illuminated on the higher shelf. The lower shelf candle illuminated an assortment of different Legend of Zelda characters. Hard as I tried to, my sleeping mind could not see what Hel was doing. Her shifting arms and head movements suggested she was looking for something. Hel didn't halt her explanation as she looked.

At first I thought it was the fact that people usually gave me their story audibly and it was the person speaking or writing the words themselves, the essence of the energy used to tell the story. So I had a tax guy type up his story on one of the communal computers. Poor bastard had two relationships in his entire life and ended up being killed by the guy his girl was cheating on him with. A real tragedy.

So typing worked? I asked.

Hmm? Hel briefly looked over her shoulder, as if processing what I said. Her knowing eyes locked with mine. The swirling of the otherworldly gods’ eyes caught the firelight, captivating me for the slight second as her gaze held mine. Luckily, Hel looked away after a short moment to keep searching.

Oh yeah. She waved my question away with her hand. He got his contract, but that got me thinking that it might be in the truths of the stories. The power is held by the truths. - Ahh, here it is!

Hel turned and strutted back to me, waving a book in her hand as she talked.

The point that I have forgotten about you humans is that you like to monologue. You will cram every detail of your thought processes to justify every action. For example, most housewives will put full names of the people who wronged them in their lives. First, middle, and last. Who remembers stuff like that? Hel sighed as she started pacing near me, not yet finished with her thought. The tax guy, too, spent five pages on his school bullies. He only knew first and last names but he could recall times and places of events that happened in grade school. Of course, the nerd put his story in a diary format.- Honestly, a horrible read. Dreadfully boring. Felt more like a spreadsheet than a story. But, Hel looked at me; left hand on her hip, right hand pointing a small book at me. I don't get the souls of every human that writes a book.

I waited a moment to see if she was actually waiting for a response before I spoke. Not even autobiographies?

No, for two reasons. She held up a finger, dropping  the hand with the book to her side. One, they are incomplete, unless the person wrote it on their deathbed. And two, Another finger came up. The story has usually been through an editor. She waited seconds to let the information hang in the air before she threw up her arms at my lack of reaction. Names had to be changed, details were changed, the stories were fundamentally changed. Things are dramatized. The person's stories are there but it is not the un-cut truths.

So... you want me to write a fake autobiography? I asked, not sure if I was understanding the point.

Hel went still. The fire gaze took my eyes as her hostage. The ember of her eyes moved faster with her excitement as I could feel the tiny shocks of her mana start to prick my skin. A knot formed in my throat as I was suddenly suffocated by this small slip of control on her power. Hel smiled, not a wicked grin, but a smug and amused grin.

To me, this moment of being suffocated lasted hours, my weak lungs burning as if I got the wind knocked out of me before I could react. Then the moment had passed. Hel turned to sit on her computer chair, releasing my eyes and the unknowing hold she had on my breath.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. If I had visited her during my astral projecting, I would have barriers up to keep this exact thing from happening. I was much more exposed, being in her realm while sleeping. I had no concentration, no conscious magiks. If this was any other god, I would be scared shitless. I would try to force myself awake and start my protection incantations as soon as I woke up. If this were any other god, I would fight. But this was Hel, a hermit on the edge of the Nordic underworld who has, honestly, been a really good friend to me. Though she could kill me in my sleep without a second thought, I knew she wouldn't. In her words, I amused her. She won't hurt something that amuses her.

I took one more deep breath before opening my eyes. Hel was pulling up something on her computer. I took a few steps until I was watching her screens over her shoulder. My breath caught.

Oh shit.

On her center monitor was the embarrassment that I had cast out of my memory after tenth grade. My high school Wattpad page. Each one of my high school creative writing project titles on the screen.

It was smart of you to use an alias but, Hel's smug voice pulled me out of my shock. I was able to find a link you posted on your old, unused Facebook page. Following that, I found all of these little treasures.

My mouth gaped open, Tell me you didn't read them.

She looked over her shoulder at me. She tried to hide her smile but failed. Anything on the internet is up for grabs. If you don't want people finding out about it then it should not exist on the internet. It's not MY fault that you had to find that out the hard way.

I sighed. I feel like you just read my middle school diary.

Hel scoffed as she turned back to the screen. Other than a few spelling errors and teenage over dramatized emotions, they're really good. I like the idea of a gender-bent Robin Hood story. Your stories have good imagery and hold a lot of promise.

Wait, I look a half step back, what are you saying exactly?

Hel swiveled her chair to look at me. Her face was the cast of Darkness compared to the Halo of light behind her. Her face was full of excitement. In order for my power to not mistake your story for a contract, I suggest you write it... she frowned, creatively? Her voice traveled upwards as if it were a question. She shook her head before she continued. Write it like a storybook. Write it in third person. Make the magiks a bit over dramatic. Change the names of the characters, hell, change your name for all I care. Keep the base story the same but change the truths in the details. Then- Hel gave a small bounce on her seat. I have an entertaining story AND get to learn more about my independent contractor.

And in return... I stalled.

And in return you get to continue to borrow from my library. Nothing off-limits.

I hesitated. Hel's library has knowledge of countless people throughout history, numerous witches and secrets that have been lost through the ages. This resource was one that I would hate to lose. However...

Come ooonnn Hel grumbled at the silence, I'm so bored with all these normal people stories. I want something exciting.

Hel-

I'll throw in a favor.

I stopped. A favor. From arguably the most powerful Nordic goddess. A goddess that had back door connections to all the other heavenly realms. I would be a complete idiot if I turned that down.

I gave an overly dramatic sigh. I guess if you are going to twist my arm over this, I have no choice.

YAY! Hel jumped out of her chair, the book suddenly in her hand again. At once  the atmosphere changed. One second light-hearted and the next, serious. Hel's eyes locked with mine as her power started concentrating around the book. It was small, smaller than the size of an eight by eleven paper. Possibly eight by six? It was leather-bound, like the fifty dollar ones at metaphysical stores or renaissance festivals. On the front of the book was Hel's sigil. It was old and expertly hand made.

When she spoke, her voice had also changed from the light-hearted voice that she normally used into a commanding, powerful voice. A voice that demanded silence from the world around us.I, Hel, pledge use of anything in my library and one favor. This, in exchange for an engaging, entertaining story. A story that will be completed in this book. Do you accept this exchange?

Looking into the eyes of Hel, I felt my power swell in the base of my spine. I collected the magik in my words before placing my hands on the book to receive it. Letting a beat pass, I spoke.

I accept.

Hel,

I took the day to meditate. To think about the story I wished to tell. What do I want people to gain from my story? What lessons of my life do I wish to tell? What do I want to share?

Have you ever heard of shadow work? It's a process used to reach a connection to the higher self. It is delving deep into a soul to gaze into the core. Digging into the person’s own memories and experiences to find the reason for the actions that is woven into their skin. A chance to see the memories that made you, who you are. The traumas or lack thereof were that drive the first thought of the mind. For those who harbor trauma, this can be difficult. However, the reward is worth it.

Even though I have to keep the details vague and change some names, so this story won't become my demise, I realized that I have a duty to those who will come after me. The true witches who have not started their path. The ones, who, like me, have been through too many lives to have an ordinary one this time around.

So, even though I am writing an epic for my friend, I am also writing this as a book of knowledge. I will present the information in an entertaining way, but I will not exaggerate my experience. magik does not work as it does in Hollywood. It is felt in the whispers of the wind through grass. It takes concentration, dedication, and time to hear it. To truly feel it.

I know you, Hel. I know your heart strains for us sad, pathetic humans. I know that there will be another human with magik in their heart who will grab your interest. I know you will give them this book to help them become less of an ignorant burden to you. Until you find that person, I hope you enjoy my story.

Your friend,

The little witch of the dead.

––––––––

The Witch Named Wendy

Chapter One: The Beginning

Starting a story is always the most difficult step, in my opinion. Where do I start? What should I include? Do I go all the way back to the beginning and stick only to the parts that relate to my magik? I’ve thought a lot about this during my meditations. I decided that this was my story and, as long as it was entertaining, it doesn't matter what I include. As I did with my younger stories, I will include what I feel I must. On that revelation we will start with the first person to help me see the magik in everything. My mother.

Or rather, the mother of our main character. The mother of Wendy.

***

Wendy was born in the mountains of Colorado. Her childhood was not hindered by the incompetent public school system. Her imagination was never degraded by the rules of society. Her world consisted of only a handful of people and animals that would visit her at her secluded mountain home. Her father worked in the iron mines of the mountains so she didn’t see him much. Her neighbors down the hill, two lovely women, made her cookies and watched her from time to time. Lastly, there was her mother, Yavonne, who would bend over backward for her little girl. She cooked, cleaned, and taught Wendy almost every day. Yavonne would never leave Wendy alone if she didn't have to, because Wendy was expected to die.

Wendy was born with severe asthma. Her earliest memories were of the darkness shadowing the edges of her vision. The tightness of her chest. The feeling of liquid crackling and obstructing the life force entering her lungs. She remembered her distorted cries as the hot tears stung her cheeks until Yavonne saved her. She took Wendy up into  her arms with the albuterol in hand, singing to her little girl as she rocked her.

Yavonne's voice wasn't TV worthy. It would be a lie to say that the angelic waves of her voice would give anyone gooseflesh. However, it can be said that Wendy's tears welled up every time she heard the songs her mother would sing to her, because Yavonne’s voice was that beautiful to her.

This part of Wendy's life wasn't a tragedy. The days were filled with mountain adventures. Instead of school days indoors, sitting through dull, government-sanctioned lessons, she learned mostly from nature.

It was one of many beautiful summer days. They had walked up the mountain path behind their house to a valley. It was not a big valley, only a mile square. A soft ledge surrounded by trees and forest brush. This was Wendy’s and her mother's sacred spot. The tall wild grass would give Wendy cover in hide and seek, the boulders gave her something to climb on, and the wildflowers made sure she always had a gift for her mother at the end of the day.

Look Wendy! Yavonne exclaimed. She motioned next to her service dog; a beautiful white pit bull named Kitty. Kitty was in her harness, laying down next to her owner. Wendy dropped what she was doing to rush to her mother’s side. Once close, Yavonne opened her hands very slowly, but what was inside made Wendy step back.

Ew Mommy! Wendy shrieked when she saw the black beetle in her mother's palms, Kill it before it bites you!

Yavonne chuckled, Why would it bite me?

Wendy looked up at her mother's face, Because it's icky.

That's your truth. Yavonne kept her composure as the small beetle crawled all over her hands. But God made everything, even this American Oil beetle. It doesn't know it is ugly to you. It may be known to be the most beautiful beetle in its colony. Yavonne looked at her daughter who started getting closer. Also, all because it may not be pleasing to your eyes doesn't mean it will harm me. Remember the verse 'do unto others as they would do unto you?’

Wendy smiled as she bobbed her head.

Well, Yavonne continued, Most animals work the same way. If you keep calm and don’t bother them, they won't bother you.

But mommy, Wendy started, Why would God make something so icky?

Yavonne blinked. Taking her time, she lowered her hand to the grass. She twisted her hand until the beetle was able to crawl onto a blade of grass. Kitty shuffled closer to sniff the beetle, seeming very interested in it.

It's a lesson. Yavonne finally answered. Once the beetle was all the way off, she turned to her daughter. Yavonne sat down and motioned for her daughter to do the same. This was a common practice for her mother to do when lecturing her daughter so Wendy quickly sat. Wendy's eyes showed that she was ready to hang on every word Yavonne was about to say.

Seeing this, Yavonne smiled. Now Wendy, whenever we create something, we put a bit of ourselves into that creation.

Like when we made birdhouses?

Yavonne's face filled with disgust at the nightmare that was the birdhouses. It took a long second before her face turned back to normal.  Yes, like the painstaking energy it took to make the birdhouses. You're interrupting, though. Once Wendy settled down, Yavonne continued. When God made the Earth, he put a bit of himself into each one of his creations. From the plants and bugs, to the birds in the air, and fish deep down in the sea. Everything on this planet has a bit of God's energy in it. So you have to remember, Wendy, that, even if it's ‘icky,’ it still needs to be respected.

Wendy, being the five-year old that she was, just agreed with her mother. Her childish imagination probably took her mother's words way beyond their original meaning.

Yavonne, pleased with her lesson, relaxed. Ok, honey, go find some acorns and we'll do some math concepts.

***

At home that night, Wendy worked on some work books at the kitchen table. Her mother was making dinner when her husband came in. At the sounds of Gunner coming through the door, both of them turned their attention toward him. Wendy rushed to greet him and Yavonne, stirring the pot one more time, set the stove to a slow simmer.

Gunner was a hard-working man, he worked in the mountains of Colorado from dawn till dusk. Wendy didn't know her father very well at that point in her life, but loved him just as much as her mother. To greet him, like many daughters do, Wendy would run towards him, shouting greetings until she was close enough to jump into her father's arms. Once she was in her dad's arms, her mother would find her chance to give her man a kiss. Just like so many families across the world.

However this was not just any family. This was Wendy's family. Wendy engraved this image into her mind. The way her mother's smile lit up the room, the way her long, red hair had strands falling out of her braid, the way her eyes twinkled at her father. Mostly, Wendy would never forget how happy her father looked during those times. His green eyes would glitter right back at his wife. Even though Gunner's red beard covered his face, she could see his smile running from ear to ear. As Wendy's parents gave each other their greeting kiss, the room filled with the love of it. This was love, true love. Wendy would never forget the image of them together. The true happiness they all shared. The bliss of having a complete family.

Wendy did have an extended family. In those days, only Yavonne's family would visit the secluded mountain house. If a person were to ask Wendy of her most prominent memory of her family visits, only one would come to mind. It was Christmas, when she was about six or so. Wendy wouldn't remember putting up the tree or the decorations. She wouldn't remember cooking with her mother or baking the cookies. She wouldn't even remember the arrival of her grandparents, her aunt, and her three cousins. She just remembered that it felt off.

Her grandparents, the Marshals, were the basic definition of a bible-belt pastor. They were both white, a bit overweight, and dressed in a flashy western fashion. Grandpa Marshal was almost always wearing a hat of some type to cover his receding black hair, a black mustache under his large nose completing the look. Grandma Marshal was the one who shared her daughter’s red hair. It was cut short with curls keeping the hair off her shoulders. She wore the brightly designed sweaters and dress pants that were only found in western stores. Her makeup was set just as brightly colored under her big frames. She wasn't as pale as her daughter, getting a tan once a month too for some reason. Wendy remembered how the Marshals mouths would perk up on the sides and show teeth when they smiled, but how the smile never reached their eyes.

Then there was Aunt Jane and her three children Robin, Brittney, and James. Robin was a few years older then Wendy, Brittney was about the same age, and James was just old enough to walk around without his mother's watchful eye.

Jane shared her father's black hair that she wore long, the ends almost touching the floor. Both Robin and Brittney had their hair in long braids that wrapped around their heads, all of the family in their Sunday best, girls in dresses and James in a little suit.

From the moment they exited their SUV into the shining Colorado sun, Wendy could feel the shift in the air. However, the feeling was barely noticed by the short attention span of Wendy's child mind. The sun reflecting off the week-old snow made everyone’s eyes squint, making their greeting smiles wider than normal.

The family unloaded the presents and goodies from the SUV before going inside. After the initial greetings and once everyone got settled in, the usual Christmas traditions started. The women started cooking in the kitchen, Grandma Marshal taking charge even though it wasn't her house. The men grabbed some beers, idly chatting while their focus was on the children. Lastly, the kids were given the task of decorating the bottom half of the Christmas tree. This didn't take long, with all the energy that children have. So the next step was to send the children outside. Grandpa Marshal got some snow overalls from the SUV while Gunner got Wendy ready in her own snow gear. It took a good thirty minutes to get all four children ready to go, but soon the children were rushing towards the door.

Hey, honey, Yavonne called to Gunner, halting the entire group. If Wendy wasn't so energized with the excitement of the day, she may have noticed the concerned look in her mother's eyes. Can you get the sled from the garage? I'll finish up with the kids. 

Of course, love. Gunner said in his rough voice. He immediately went to give his wife a kiss before he was off to do her bidding. Yavonne smiled at all of the children, taking a moment to fix Robin's hat. Yavonne looked at each of the children in turn as she spoke. Okay kids, we're going to have some grownup time. Wendy knows where the property line is. Stay in sight of the house and look out for each other. Does everyone understand?

All of the children enthusiastically agreed. Yavonne fretted over the children's clothes until Gunner returned with the sled. It was blue, rectangular, plastic, and cheap but the children didn't care.

Wendy's family home was a two-story, cabin style structure. The main floor was technically the second floor that had giant windows all around the living space to show off the view that was also visible from the wrap-around deck. The house was on an incline; it took about a dozen steps to reach the deck from the front of the house, but it only took five or so to reach the back. The wrap-around deck was fully shoveled for this event. Because of this, each snow boot clattered on the wood and the sled dragged before hitting the crunch of the snow.

Wendy could vaguely remember playing in the snow, how she and her cousins would throw snowballs to decide who goes next and how the laughs echoed through the trees.

Wendy climbed back up the hill when she heard James’s shout, Me next! His adorable smile crowded his bright red cheeks. His blue eyes twinkled with excitement as he jumped up and down. Me next! Me next!

Wendy hopped through the snow just a bit faster to get to him. As they had the last few times, Wendy went to the start of the trees at the edge of the yard. The path that the sled had made was straight down the side of the house, ending in the driveway. Wendy had gone down multiple times to etch out the path and Brittney had halfway bullied her way into multiple rides. Robin looked down the path as Wendy set down the sled, I should get in with you James.

Nnoooo James stomped and started to cry. Just my turn!

It will be okay, Wendy smiled, It's Christmas.

As if that explained everything, Brittney started loading James in the blue sled. Robin was still unsure but didn't say anything else.

Don't be such a stick, Robin. Brittney cut in as she helped James get settled. Wendy and I have made sure it was safe.

Without another remark, Brittney and Wendy pushed James. James started giggling, going quiet as the sled went faster.

There were two things that the children hadn't thought about. First, that the multiple rides had made the path slick under the sled. Second, James was about ten pounds lighter than them.

All the girls fell silent in fear as they all realized how fast he was going. Time seemed to slow as the forest stilled around them. Wendy swallowed hard as she broke out of her trance and started to run. Her breath caught in her throat, sinking to the pit of her stomach. The sled jumped off the track at the bend. James hanging on for his life, but still not making a peep. At the sight of the jump the other girls started to run. With that jump, James wasn't heading towards the driveway. He was now heading towards the SUV, and after the SUV was the cramped two-lane dirt road; but after that, nothing. The dirt road going to the house was like many in the mountains, cradled by a cliff.

Wendy slipped in the knee-deep snow. Only taking her eyes off the runaway sled for a second, she looked up to find him almost at the SUV. Wendy shot out her hand, her voice still stuck in her throat. Duck! Lay down! Stop! She shouted each one in her mind as her heart pounded in her ears. Her hand gripped the air as if to drag the sled to a halt.

James's instincts took over his body, snapping his body flat to the sled as he went under the side of the SUV. The silence was cut by the heavy plastic dislodging the rocks on the road. Wendy registered her cousins flying past her, using the sled path to avoid falling.  Wendy's eyes never left James, seeing him from her vantage point but going to lose sight of him soon. He slowed but it wouldn't be enough.

An assertive voice crashed into Wendy's mind.

Turn left.

Almost instantly, the sled started turning down the road, slowing down safely in the middle of it. An adult would have questioned this voice and the actions that resulted. An adult may have correlated the two, but Wendy was only six, only the joy of relief filled her mind. Wendy got up out of the snow and sprinted to the group. As she rounded the SUV, she saw that Robin and Brittney had already started fretting over James who had a big smile on his face. Upon seeing his smile, Wendy smiled too. The girls, however, were scowling towards Wendy, making her stop in her tracks.

You should have let me go with him, Wendy! Robin barked, a few more feet and he would have died.

Wendy's face fell, I didn't know.

You're a heathen! Brittney shouted, Get away from us!

Though none of the children had any idea the meaning of those words, the tone was perfectly clear. Wendy's heart dropped to the cold winter snow. Her eyes grew blurred with tears. I *sniff* didn't-

Robin picked up her brother, Come on James, let's go make snowmen. WITHOUT Wendy.

Both girls turned away from Wendy in the unbridled coldness that only children can give. Quietly sobbing now, Wendy ran up the driveway to the garage doors. She threw open the smaller door on the far end of the house. Once inside, she entered a small living space. Brown carpet, with only a small fireplace to liven it up. The walls were mostly covered in stacked boxes. Wendy was usually never allowed downstairs because it was considered her parents space. Wendy started walking to the stairs in the left-hand corner of the room when she stopped. Sobs were echoing the upstairs, ones that Wendy didn't recognize. Her own tears stopped; Wendy quietly climbed the first few steps to listen in.

If you want to leave, you and the kids are always welcome here- Yavonne started before being interrupted.

Oh, easy to say for you. Grandma Marshal spat, Jen is about to have four children to take care of. If she leaves, he'll just make a family with that other woman.

The sobs became a little lower at that. Wendy risked climbing another step.

What I am saying, pumpkin. Grandma Marshal continued, Is that when you decided to be with that man, you made a choice. And now you have another choice. Stay with the father of your children; a man who can give your children a good, Christian life. Or leave him, his money, his support of the church...

Mother! Yavonne yelled.

No, she's right. Jane sniffled, then sighed. I have to think of my children. I want them to grow up away from the horrible people of the world. This is just one more condition for that. Like dad said, nothing in life is free.

There was a bit of movement before Grandpa Marshal spoke softly. God works in mysterious ways, Jane. He will give you the strength to battle this storm.

I just Jane softly sobbed, I thought I was enough for him.

The air became still, making Jane's crying sound like an orchestra. Wendy's head was spinning. She was too young to understand what the conversation was about. All she knew was the tension in the air wasn't right. It was cold, heartbreaking, and hopeless.

Okay. Jane sucked back a breath as the sobs dissipated. I know what I'm going to do. I'm going to go clean my face and call the children in for dinner. Let's just get this Christmas over with.

Wendy could hear the footsteps of her aunt move around the upstairs before the creek of a door opening and closing.

What was that, Mother? Yavonne hissed quietly.

King David had many wives. Sure, this isn't-

Isn't the bible against adultery? Gunner sternly cut in.

That's IT! Yavonne's voice cut through the air in her mother tone, making Wendy take a step down the stairs. " For once, I agree with my sister. Let's get the kids in here and get this night over with.

With a bit more movement, Yavonne turned up the Christmas music before yelling outside for the kids to come up. Wendy quietly rushed down and went out the garage door. She ran around to come up the backstairs with her cousins.

Wendy didn't remember anything else from that Christmas so it must have been uneventful.

***

It had been weeks since the last snowfall and grass had started peeking up from the wet dirt. The morning sun glimmered through the slick covered windows as Wendy jumped out of bed. Her room was modest, as the rest of the house was. No pictures lined the timber walls, just the one window that was a bit too high for Wendy to reach. The only color in the room came from the pink-flowered sheets on Wendy's bed and a painted green toy box at the foot of it. Yavonne made sure that the toys were always picked up before dinner every night so nothing littered the floor. Wendy didn't mind. She lived in the happy bliss of a child.

Wendy rushed out of her room to the kitchen where her mother had already started making breakfast. As always, Kitty laid at Yavonne's feet, protecting her master.

Can we go to the valley today, Mommy? Wendy burst in, startling Yavonne by sliding into her mother's leg. The metal spatula clanked against the cast iron pan in her recovery. Yavonne took a second, crushing her eyes closed and taking two controlled breaths. Wendy dropped her hands from around her mother's leg but didn't back away. Kitty sat up, sitting almost as tall as Wendy was, the dog’s face looking at Yavonne to see if she was needed.

She looked up at her mother in confusion, Mommy?

I'm fine Wendy, just don't feel my best today. Yavonne looked down at her daughter with love, but even Wendy could see the sparkle of tears in her hazel eyes. Besides, we have to go to the store today.

Wendy's eyes lit up. Does that mean we get to go to the park too?

Only if you eat all of your eggs and wash your plate.

The morning brisked on without another incident and, by the time Wendy was buckled in her car seat, she had all but forgotten about the pain in her mother's eyes.

After Yavonne triple checked to make sure that Wendy was buckled in properly, she got herself situated in the driver's seat. Kitty had her harness on and was sitting in the front seat like she always did when Yavonne was driving. Yavonne turned over the massive 1990’s Jimmy Suburban and headed down the mountain. When she stopped at the stop sign at the end of the block, she turned the CD player on. Church hymns started playing out of the speakers.

Mommy, can we play daddy's music? Wendy groaned at the first note.

Wendy could see her mother smile in the center mirror.

Remember the science experiment we did with the plants? Yavonne started in her teacher's voice, a voice that was calm but demanded one's full attention.

The one with the three plants? Wendy asked. Last year, Yavonne and Wendy set up three rubber plants around the house. One, the control, was placed downstairs in the quiet storage room.

Another was in the kitchen listening to soft Mozart day in and day out. The third was, in Wendy’s room listening to mostly classic rock but there was a Hillary Duff CD that played from time to time.

The ends of Yavonne's lips curved. What were the results: time frame, end result, and why?

Wendy grinned, After six months; the plant with the classical music grew toward the sound. The one with my music, grew away from it. And... uh.. Wendy's smile took a hit from her lost thought. Because... it fears the metal?

A sinus-filled snort burst out of Yavonne. Losing the battle to maintain her teacher composure, Yavonne spoke. Good guess, but no. She straightened her back while taking a deep breath. It's all in the energy of the music. Think about it this way: what did daddy tell you about your first contact with a new dog?

You stick your hand out so they can sniff the back of it and if they lick the hand then it's okay to pet them, Wendy answered.

Good. Now how are you supposed to talk to them?

In quiet, loving tones.

Exactly. What do you think would happen if you yelled at the dog?

It would... probably bite me. Wendy answered a bit scared at the thought.

Yes. The dog would be reacting to the energy in your voice. Now how can you relate that to the plant experiment?

Wendy thought for a moment, looking down at her pink overall dress while she thought. Plants like the energy of classical music? Wendy guessed.

Yavonne smiled brightly at her daughter through the mirror. Basically. We’ll dive more into the topic when you're older. For now, though, you have a basic understanding of it. Now, Yavonne flipped her chin towards the CD player in the center of the dashboard. Why does mommy want to listen to the softer music?

Because Mommy fears the metal! Wendy's eyes sparkled at the joke.

Yavonne smiled but made it clear that it was not the right answer. Remember how Mommy hurt earlier today? Mommy needs soft energy right now so she won't hurt as bad.

Oohhhhh, understanding hit Wendy who was focusing on the hem of her dress.

There was a moment of silence, not in the air but between them. Mommy ... I love you.

Yavonne smiled in the mirror at her daughter. I love you too, sweetie.

And like that, any awkwardness in the silence was gone.

The nearest town was small with only about a hundred or so people. Idaho Springs only grocery store was a Safeway that was across the street from a small park. It consisted of a small jungle gym, one slide, one set of monkey bars, and a see-saw. To Wendy, going to this small park was the highlight of the day. Wendy was a good child but Yavonne still took precautions by wearing Wendy down before they entered the store. Smart, considering Wendy was an energetic six-year old.

Yavonne parked in the usual spot. As was the routine, Yavonne got out, pulled up the seat to allow more room to unbuckle Wendy, set her down then let Kitty out of the passenger seat. Wendy would race to the playground while Yavonne and Kitty sat on the sidelines. Wendy ran to the jungle gym, finding it almost hot to the touch from the early morning sun. There were a few other children at the park, but they were playing tag. Leaving only one other child on the playground. Wendy, being the girl she was, ran right up to the figure.

Hey, Wendy called.

The figure turned around. It was a boy with unruly shoulder-length black hair. He was wearing blue shorts and a gray shirt with a motorcycle on it. His light mocha skin contrasted with his bright blue hazel eyes. He was bent over a pair of motorcycle toys; one was red, and one was yellow.

Though the boy was surprised, Wendy didn't notice. She just gave him a bright, welcoming smile. What are you up to?

His face perked up, I'm playing on a motorcycle track like my daddy does.

Can I play with you?

Sure! He handed Wendy the red motorcycle.

The boy had made a small ramp out of sand that he guided the motorcycle up. At the top of the ramp, the boy made the plastic do tricks before landing. Wendy made the motorcycle do a circle around her before jumping off the ramp, sound effects included.

My daddy has a motorcycle, but it doesn't look like this one.

These are dirt bikes. The boy answered, They don't drive on roads. Dirt bikes do jumps and race on special tracks. Like this. The boy made his motorcycle drive around before it did another flip off the ramp.

Wendy took a second. Though the boy was smiling, she felt something was off.

Are you okay? Wendy bluntly asked.

The boy looked up at her wide-eyed, but didn't answer.

Are you really happy or are you pretending? Wendy pushed.

As if in realization, the boy looked down at his toy. His brows scrunched together as he talked to the toy he was fiddling with. Dylan was mean to me earlier. The boy shrugged his head to the other children who were still running around the field. But I'm ok. The boy looked at Wendy again with a genuine smile. Dylan doesn't have to like me because I like me. My daddy says that it doesn't matter what the world thinks as long as I don’t hate myself. So don't worry about me.

Wendy smiled, awestruck at the maturity of his answer.

Augustus! A brown-hair woman called, time to go.

The boy responded to the call of his name, getting to his feet. Seeing this, Wendy gave back the motorcycle.

I had a lot of fun. I hope we can play again some time. Wendy said cheerfully.

The boy took his toy back, I live down the street, so I am around a lot. He started running toward his mother. See you next time. He called out behind him. 

Bye. Wendy called back before running to the jungle gym.

Shortly after, Wendy walked around the Safeway with her mother and Kitty. Yavonne was a woman who only got what she needed for the next week. Ingredients for pork chops, pasta, and hamburgers were the only things that made it in the cart. The only exception was Wendy's soy milk, since dairy was a trigger for her asthma.

Like always, Wendy was given a penny, for her good behavior, to ride the mechanical horse while her mother checked out. In what seemed like a flash, the Jimmy was loaded, and the girls were on their way home. Yavonne made Wendy read the signs as they passed, the girl got to listen to her daddy's music, and Kitty got the window rolled down for her.

One last peaceful memory for Wendy to treasure.

Hel,

It's weird writing about my own life. Like, I find myself second-guessing how I portray everyone. When I was a child, I loved my mother's parents. I might... dislike them now, but I didn't then. Should I have written down that we hugged and cooked together? I know you are fascinated by human interaction and relationships but... all the good memories with them leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

Well, this is where the story takes a drastic turn.

Chapter Two: Move

Later that night, the entire family was enjoying a homemade, fried pork chop dinner. Waves of joy radiated off of Wendy while she ate her favorite dinner choice. Yavonne changed into a knee-length black dress with little decorative mirrors on it. Ronald got cleaned up as soon as he got home, but still had on jeans and a short-sleeved shirt.

Wendy had already caught her father up on all the activities that his girls had been up to that day. Gunner played his part well, reacting correctly to each new piece of information and laughing to hear Wendy demanded 'daddy's music'.

Wendy scarfed down her dinner, loving every bite.

Hey, slow down, kiddo. Gunner prompted.

Wendy stopped mid scarf, shifted her eyes between her mother and father, then swallowed what was in her mouth. She took her elbows off the table and sat straight. Sorry, daddy.

Realizing what Wendy thought, Gunner laughed. No, good girl that's not what I meant. Your mother and I just gotta tell you something.

Yavonne and Gunner looked at each other. Gunner’s eyes were full of encouragement, his smile collected. Yavonne's face was not so sure.

Sweetie, Yavonne started. The next two weeks are going to be very busy for us and all of us will be doing our part to help.

Busy with what?

Well, Yavonne glanced at her husband then back at Wendy. We are going to be moving into a new house...

Yavonne trailed off, the words hung in the air.

We're... leaving the mountains? Wendy asked, confused.

Yes, but we will come back to visit. Gunner took over. We need to be closer to the city so mommy can see the doctors. I've also got a new job for repairing trains. We all have to work together to make this happen. So, Gunner gave a proud smile to his little girl. Can you be a big girl and help Mommy and Daddy with this?

Wendy was only six. She needed to be helpful and she loved her parents more than anything. She may not have understood everything that was going on but she knew her parents were counting on her.

Yes. Wendy smiled at her father, then her mother. Both of them seemed to relax their shoulders at her answer.

Good, Yavonne sighed. Now you can finish and clean up. We have a big day tomorrow so we are all going to bed early tonight.

Wendy stuffed the last few meat cubes in her mouth before grabbing the plate. With a mouthful, she answered, Yes, Mommy.

Wendy walked over to the sink. As she always did, she set the plate on the ground so she could move the stool to the correct position. This signaled to Kitty that she could come over and lick the plate as much as she wanted while it was unattended. When the stool was in place, Wendy took the plate away from Kitty and put it in the sink.

I told you it would be fine. Wendy heard her father behind her.

Wendy finished up before skipping to her room, not fully comprehending what the next few weeks would bring.

For the next five days, Yavonne and Wendy went to work packing and organizing. Room by room, they went through each item and decided if it was worth bringing with them to their new life. Anything that didn't make the cut, was put into a 'giveaway' pile.

If you haven't played with it in the last month, put it in the bag. Yavonne instructed Wendy, There could be another girl out there who needs it more than you.

There were a few trips down the road. Wendy would get side-tracked with a long lost toy or fuss to her mother about giving it away. The tantrums wouldn't last long; the threat of spankings and a break outside usually did the trick.

On Saturday, the family had an early morning breakfast. Wendy was half asleep as she ate her oatmeal with her parents. Shortly after, the entire family loaded up the car with a few bags of necessities and hit the road. Wendy slept during the four-hour drive to their destination. Kitty watching over her the entire trip.

Wendy woke in, seemingly, a different land. There were no more mountains, no more of the wild grasses and disarranged flowers. There was not an evergreen to be seen under the morning sun. There was dirt, and the few single trees that scattered the dusty planes. Eventually, green covered the horizon. A valley of green stalks in uniform lines waved in the slight breeze. Wendy was hypnotized by the visual of watching the plants pass by before the land was dirt again. There were some scattered houses. Most were next to the fields, having fences hiding the tractors in the yard. There were some houses that showcased their rusted trucks and fire pits. However, each house was so far apart, Wendy wondered if the inhabitants had ever met each other.

ACDC played in the otherwise silent cab of the Jimmy. Gunner was the only one driving on the county road. Wendy retreated into her own mind. She knew that shenanigans in the car were not allowed unless she wanted to conjure the wrath of her father. So, she held her tongue, and played out a story in her mind.

The story was about Peter Pan, flying next to them, telling her to whisk away with him. Wendy imagined how he and Tinkerbell would choreograph their way through the blue sky, how they would play chicken with the trees, shifting at the last second to miss the branches. Wendy imagined the conversation and, since he could only be seen by children, it didn't feel weird. He asked how she was, where she was going and how her parents were handling everything.

Of course, she told him everything, her true feelings that would only upset her parents.

This conversation, and the view out the window, kept Wendy entertained until Gunner broke her daze.

Wendy, look at that set of trees in the distance.

Wendy turned to stretch her seat belt closer to the front. On the right side of the long stretch of road was a dot that interrupted the endless dessert. The blob of green with varied shades of brown steamed up from the ground. Wendy's heart pounded in excitement.

The music felt louder as a wave of relief soothed the energy of the car. With each minute, the town became more pronounced. Buildings seemed to draw the lines between one another as Wendy's little eyes focused on them. In childish glee, Wendy repeatedly lurched as high as she could against her seat belt. Wendy's parents beamed at the sound of her uncontrolled giggling as she released her pent-up energy.

The car slowed as the right turn approached. The entrance of the small town was shaded by two well-developed trees on each side. Main street, if you could call it that, consisted of a gas station, the post office, and the school. The Jimmy took another right. At the very corner of town was two houses that shared a long, fenced in back yard. The Jimmy pulled into the driveway of the first house. It was a ground floor blue house with a large softwood deck. Desert brush replaced the front yard garden, the horseshoe driveway replacing any room for a front yard. On the left side of the house was a dirt road lined with stickers, a small blue shed, and a Winnebago that was a toss-up if the engine worked this year. This road led to the house that shared the back yard with Grandpa and Grandma Myer, the Cockreham household.

Wendy practically leaped out of the car as soon as the car stopped, unbuckling herself before the car entered the little town. Leaving her parents behind, she sprinted up the ramp to the front door. Stopping right before the door, Wendy enthusiastically knocked. A moment passed before it opened to show a short brown-haired woman. She wore a button-up, multicolored striped shirt and jeans. Her face was worn by the sun and living a life of laughter, her green eyes sparkling with life.

Well, hey-yah baby. She opened her arms, anticipating the leap Wendy made into her arms.

Grandma!

Both girls giggled in the embrace for a long second before Grandma Myer placed Wendy on the ground. She patted Wendy’s back to guide her further inside.

Your cousins and aunt are in the kitchen making lunch. Go see if they need any help.

Wendy happily obeyed, heart pounding in excitement.

The house was technically a two-bedroom, two bath with everything else in the middle separated by one wall. As one were to walk in, to the left was the adult room, all the couches and chairs turned toward the TV. To the right was the children's room, the GameCube hooked up to a significantly smaller TV with a fold-out couch facing it. It was cluttered with assorted toys such as sports balls, water guns, and many of the other popular toys of the time. Wendy jogged around the wall to the back of the house that held the kitchen and dining room. Around the island in the kitchen was Gunner’s sister’s family. There was Aunt Chewy, a six-year old daughter named Kae, a five-year-old son named Keath, and a two-year-old named Clide. The entire family was working over different silver cooking bowls. Kae was standing on a stool that looked over the island while Keath mimicked her on the other side of Aunt Chewy. Clide sat on the island holding a bottle in his mouth, too young to help. All but Clide greeted Wendy with a joyful grin.

Wendy! Kae and Keath shouted in disorganized unison.

Welcome in, Stinky, Aunt Chewy greeted. Wash your hands. We're almost finished with the spaghetti.

As Wendy got closer to Kae, she saw that the bowl was filled with red sauce covered meat. Aunt Chewy turned to the sink behind her to separate the noodles from the water. Keath was using a wooden spoon to throw the salad around the bowl. Wendy waited for her turn to use the sink, pulling the blue children's step stool into the right position. Wendy hugged her aunt around her black shirt with a motorcycle on the back. Unable to free her arms, Aunt Chewy just leaned into her niece. Aunt Chewy was just as tall as her mother, about five and a half feet tall, with hair as bright red as Gunner’s that hung in a braid down her back. Her moss green eyes shined behind her small frames as she smiled down at Wendy.

How was the ride Kiddo? She asked as she finished draining the crazy noodles.

It was sooo loonnngggg, Wendy dragged the last two words.

Aunt Chewy chuckled at the dramatics of the answer, Well that’s life, kiddo, but at least it’s over and you're here now.

Wendy let go of her aunt as she turned back to the island with the pot. Wendy used this opportunity to wash her hands over the dirty dishes. After singing happy birthday to herself, she turned off the faucet and shook her hands in the sink as she watched her dad do.

Hey, Wendy, her aunt summoned, take over stirring the spaghetti and Kae, can you set the table please?

Yes, Mommy, Kae answered. Kae was a short girl with round cheeks. Her bob cut brown hair held a black bow on the side. Kae carefully got down from her stool and took a detour to enthusiastically hug Wendy when she was safely on the ground. The girls gripped onto each other in a deadlock of love.

I missed you! I missed you! I missed you! Kae repeated as she tried to swing Wendy around. Though Kae was a few months older, she was just a bit smaller than Wendy.

Wendy joined in with Kae’s chant, squeezing her cousin. This continued for a minute until the girls were laughing too hard to get a word out. After a prompting from Aunt Chewy, both girls giggled as they hustled to their given duties.

Heyo, Wendy, Keath waved the spoon to her as she got up on the stool. Keath has blond hair and blue eyes, and cheeks not as round as his sister but there was resemblance in their characteristics. Wendy greeted him as the spaghetti pot was placed in front of her. Wendy waved at Clide, the baby uninterested in anything that wasn’t his bottle. With a shrug, Wendy got to stirring.

The family bustled around for a bit. Wendy’s parents brought in everything from the Jimmy. Kitty made a show of sniffing around the house. Grandma and Kae set the large wooden table for everyone. Aunt Chewy cleaned up the kitchen and started the soaking process. Keath made noises into the solid as he made removing the core a game while Clide sat comfortably on the counter. The noise of greetings and collaboration filled the house. The bird clock chirped at the arrival of noon. With the entire family working together, it was not long before everyone was in their seats.

Where’s Grandpa? Wendy asked.

He’s driving back from Minnesota. He’ll be back before the end of the week. Grandma answered as she made the children's plates.

I hoped I'd get to talk to him before I left. Gunner piped up. Did he get held up?

Yeah, there was a paperwork issue. Grandma shrugged. He'll be here when you get back.

Where's daddy going? Wendy worriedly asked.

He's going to help the movers while we stay with Grandma, Yavonne answered. But he’ll be back to get us in a week and a half.

Wendy nodded to indicate she understood, taking a giant bite of spaghetti.

The small talk continued through the meal. The adults conversed about the plans of the week while the children commented on what new