Spirited One: Book 1, #1

By Brenda Colbath

The cover of Spirited One might appear to be a ghost story, but it is a Fantasy, Sci-Fi, and fiction. Orphaned at age one, Jena Andrews grew up in the Foster System. She accepted her lot in life, understanding it would never be easy. Anger issues thrust her into court-appointed therapy to remember the horror hidden in her mind's deepest recesses. It only re-visits her in the dead of night, waking every morning in sweat-soaked sheets, screaming! Her life consists of teaching Taekwondo, 5-mile runs, and waitressing at Olive Garden! A new student joins her beginners' class, and she meets her new therapist, plus the Spirited One, who changes her life forever! Why was she chosen by the Spirited One? What is the Spirited One?

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Brenda Colbath
• Release date: Sep 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223992493

Brenda Colbath

Creating worlds and characters and wielding power like a madwoman makes my characters happy, sad, angry, and have no redeeming qualities. I laugh aloud when writing a scene, and I have been known to cry when one of my favorites dies. I am a left-handed Gemini; what do you expect?

Book preview

Chapter 1 Tea with the Master.

Another beautiful day in paradise, groaned Jena as she savagely rubbed the sleep from her eyes, struggling to unwind her firmly encased body from the sweat-soaked sheets. She desperately tried to recall the nightmare that produced her anger upon awakening. Staggering to the shower, welcoming the steamy daggers stabbing her flesh, vigorously scrubbing her body, hoping to coax her mind into revealing its secrets. I remember bits and pieces of what I know isn’t a dream, and though I have been told what happened, I want to remember; I need to remember!

Looking in the mirror, she saw the young woman looking back at her with light brown hair, green/brown eyes, and lightly freckled skin requiring only soap, water, and moisturizer to achieve a fresh, healthy glow. She keeps her five-foot-seven-inch body in top physical condition with five-mile runs, teaching Martial Arts, and sparring with trainees.

Arriving at 10:00 am on the dot at the Dojo, last night’s horror now safely locked in the depths of her subconscious, she smiled, welcoming her first class. Jena accepted and was content with her life after aging out of the Foster Care system. She happily grabbed the lifeline in the form of an invitation to teach at Master Gensha-Kro's Dojo. She advanced to Black Belt while still in school, longing for graduation so she could work full-time and become a Master. Her world revolved around teaching and her waitress job at The Olive Garden Restaurant in Metro Center.

Most days, Jena enjoyed teaching, but today, she was relieved when the last student left the Dojo; she hurried to put the equipment away, preparing it for the next day's lessons. Occasionally, after the day's classes, Master Gensha-Kro and Jena enjoyed tea together, but tonight, Jena wanted to escape. She was looking forward to a run, a long hot shower, and, hopefully, one night of dreamless sleep. But that was not to be as Master Gensha-Kro's voice stopped her before she could slip out the door.

Bowing, he said, Jena, will you do me the honor of having tea with me? I have a new blend I think will please you. Bowing to him but inwardly sighing, she said, I will be delighted, Master. Her Master was aware of her disturbed sleep patterns and her history.  He was concerned that she had stopped seeing her therapist. With a knowing smile, he set the kettle on the flame.

Jena lowered herself into a cross-legged position on the comfortable cushion at the small tea table in the alcove. Bowing her head, she employed the relaxing techniques her Master had instilled. She watched as he sat the aged tea service with its steaming teapot and two cups on the solid, intricately carved tea table.

The Master poured, and each sipped the delicious aromatic tea. He regarded her for a few moments before speaking, Jena, I detected an undercurrent of anger struggling to the surface tonight. Do you think it wise to have discontinued your therapy?

My therapy with the court-appointed therapist was at a standstill! I was hoping that by using the control techniques you taught me, I would make more progress.

Jena, we teach our students that any loss of control makes us dangerous and vulnerable to injury. You must remain in control. It will be dangerous for you and the novices you train.

Fearing the loss of control would result in her being asked to leave her teaching position, she pleaded, I understand, Master. I will meditate and work harder to lock my anger deep in my mental vault.

Seeing the anguish on Jena’s face, he said, Perhaps it is time for you to try a new therapist. Not waiting for an answer, he continued, Can you taste the many flavors of this tea? 

Inwardly smiling at his discreet shift to tea flavors, she couldn’t help thinking, "A new therapist might be the answer." She said, Yes, I can taste several flavors. I detect Orange, and several Berry flavors, combined with the Chamomile, make this a delicious, soothing blend.

He laid a small purple velvet bag on the table in front of Jena, A cup of tea every night before meditation may be of help to you. Will you be ready for new student classes starting next week?

Jena picked up the bag, noticing the discreetly placed a card under it. Relieved that she still had her teaching job, she replied, Yes, Master, I will be ready. Thank you.  I am sure this new tea will be a great help.

Jena, your desire to work through your demons yourself is commendable, but even the strongest sometimes need help. Jammie Noble trained with me, achieving a Black Belt in Taekwondo. She is a Clinical Psychologist who has had much success with issues similar to yours, and I feel confident that she will help you.

Yes, Master, I will call. Bowing her head, she picked up the card.

A more relaxed Jena bowed as she slung her large gym bag over her shoulder and quickly exited the dojo.

Chapter 2 Do You Wanna Play?

The master’s dojo is in a small strip mall on Maryland Avenue, two streets north of Bethany Home Rd. His tiny house sits behind the dojo, with access to the dojo through his fenced yard. The neighborhood fences sport several shades of brown from continuous tagging. Jena sprinted to her truck parked several blocks north on Northern Ave, her favorite spot at the head of a rarely traveled alley between two anchor stores. The blocks in west Phoenix are about a square mile; she decided that sprinting the two miles would suffice for her run tonight.

Catching her breath, she was about to toss her bag in the back of her truck when laughter, grunts, and sounds of scuffling feet claimed her attention. In this part of Phoenix, it could mean several things, none of them good. She glanced down the alley and saw outlines of several tall men surrounding a little kid dressed in loose-fitting clothing. The little guy was on the losing end of the game these young men were playing. They were shoving him back and forth between themselves as they guffawed at his stumbles.

Jena’s feet began walking toward them before her mind engaged. The Mall lighting revealed that the biggest of the gang looked over six feet tall, with a wild tangle of blonde hair and a body that screamed regular workouts. He stripped the little guy’s backpack from his slim shoulders, upending it and dumping its meager contents on the ground. The little guy struggled to his knees and looked toward Jena. She was shocked to see the face of an old man. He was bleeding from several cuts, seemed dazed, and didn’t appear to put up much of a fight.

Her mind immediately conjured scenes of herself being bullied in the schoolyard dressed in hand-me-downs and Goodwill rejects. Memories of being an anemic foster kid, carrying her meager belongings to each new home in a paper bag, came into focus. 

Planting her feet in a martial arts stance, her Gym bag still slung over her shoulder.

Stopping her forward progress, she raised her voice, Come on guys, let the little guy go: you can see he’s had enough. She tried not to sound as disgusted as she felt seeing the little guy’s condition:

Looking up the alley, they saw this slim, attractive woman strolling toward them. They scowled, annoyed that Jena’s voice had interrupted their fun and games. The big blonde dude was holding the little guy by the back of his coat. The little guy's feet dragging on the ground. He looked out cold with his chin resting on his chest. The other two young men could have been brothers; both had dark, tangled, curly hair hanging to their shoulders, and their frames were a stark contrast to their beefy leader.

Well, lookee here, boys. This brave girl is coming to save this poor little man. Ain’t that sweet? There was a chorus of, Yeah, real sweet.

Okay, little lady, this old fool has nothing of value in his backpack. How about we have a look-see at what’s in that big heavy bag on your small shoulders? He kicked at the contents he had just dumped on the ground, advancing toward Jena, still dragging the old man.

Jena put her hands up in a gesture of surrender, saying, Look, guys, I don’t want any trouble. Please let the old man go; he can’t take any more abuse. Let me take him to a hospital.

Shifting his hold to the front of the old man's shirt so they were face to face, the dude said, We ain’t abusing you, are we old man? We’re just playing. Looking at Jena again, he said, See, he doesn’t need no hospital; he wants to stay and have more fun with us. The old guy looked like a rag doll with his feet dangling, not quite touching the ground.

Jena felt her anger rising to the danger point until she heard the words of her Master echo in her mind. "It will be dangerous for you to lose control." Taking a deep cleansing breath, she tried again to plead her case. Please, let me take him to the hospital. She dropped her hands to her sides, her gym bag still hanging behind her shoulders.

Deciding that this new victim would be more fun, the big guy dropped the little man in a heap at his feet. Stepping over the bundle of disposable human garbage, he advanced toward Jena, saying, I think maybe you have something valuable in that big heavy bag on your slim shoulders. And gentlemen that we are, we will relieve you of its burden.

His words ignited her anger close to the boiling point; facing him, her arms shot out, palms up, a gesture that should have shown the jerk to stop his forward movement. Jena said louder, Enough, stop right there! I must inform you that I am a Black Belt in Martial Arts. Do not come any closer; turn around and walk away.

The big jerk continued strutting towards her, disbelief showing on his face. When she realized he had no intention of stopping, she tossed her bag several paces behind her. She assumed her formal martial arts stance, preparing to fight. The better part of Jena was half hoping they would lose interest, but her rage was white-hot, and she knew they wouldn’t.

Turning to his friends, his arms open wide, he said, Clearly, our little Miss. is too much for us boys. We might as well surrender. Turning toward Jena again, he swaggered towards her, putting his arms up in mock surrender with a shit-eating grin.

Swaggering closer, he said, You can see how much fun the little guy was having playing with us. He paused, his eyebrows shot up in mock surprise, saying, Oh! You want to have fun and play with us too?

No, I don’t want to play with you, and I’m not leaving without him! As the guy approached her, arms up in mock surrender, the expression on his handsome face said, "This is gonna be easy and fun." He paused for a few seconds when he realized she was standing her ground. Shrugging, he started forward again.

She took a quick step closer to him; her left fist shot out, connecting with his Adam's apple, wiping the grin off his face and replacing it with shock. He stumbled back a couple steps, grabbing his throat and gasping for air. She stepped forward before he could get a lungful and planted a swift kick to his groin, intentionally missing his family jewels. Groaning, his body bent over in pain, he covered his crotch with one hand, and the other remained at his throat. Jena stepped to the side, landing a swift kick on his jaw, knocking him to the ground with a thud! He lay still.

His buddies stopped their advance, frozen, their mouths hanging open, their faces showing disbelief. Jena’s movements were so fast that she looked like the whirlwind or a Tasmanian devil! Their buddy was out cold at the feet of this mere girl! Jena assumed her fighting stance and taunted them, saying, You boys wanna play with me? You big brave men, three of you against one little guy! Your Mother must be so proud of you! She was nearly out of control, her volume rising. Guys, this is a one-time offer: take your friend and get the hell out of here!

Jena’s tenuous hold on her anger threatened to override her common sense. The desire to beat the shit out of these young men had replaced Master Ganehsa-Kro’s voice.

They stood mute, not believing what they saw. The guy's faces telegraphed, "It has to be a fluke; surely the two of us can take one slim woman; then we will share the booty in her bag."

The shorter of the two boldly stepped forward, taking a wild swing at Jena. Unfortunately, he telegraphed his intentions! She sidestepped the intended punch. She grabbed the offending wrist and yanked him off balance with a quick, painful twist, producing a loud snap from his shoulder. She propelled him forward until he smacked hard against his buddy, bouncing off, crashing into the concrete wall! He landed face-first on the ground; blood pooled from his smashed nose.

Jena only had a few seconds to prepare for his bigger buddy, recovering from being smacked. He rushed her, intending to wrap his arms around her in a bear hug, slam her to the ground, and knock her unconscious! Thus ending the fight! However, best-laid plans often go astray when your opponent anticipates your move. Jena sidestepped so fast that he missed his target! As he flew by, he felt a well-placed foot connect with his ass. He sprawled face down on the asphalt. Both men slowly rolled over, each sporting bloody noses. They looked up at Jena with murder in their eyes.

Getting up, they positioned themselves on each side of Jena: a mistake! She was too fast for them and quickly side-kicked the bigger guy’s nose hard enough that she felt bones breaking. He staggered back, both hands on his face.  His buddy decided now was a good time to rush Jena’s back. She turned so fast all he saw was the bottom of her sneaker before it smacked his face. He stumbled and fell back on the pavement, bleeding profusely from his nose. They both looked stunned.

With her last bit of control, she said, Pick up your friend and get the hell out of here, NOW! When they didn’t move fast enough, she took a quick step forward. It convinced them they wanted no more of her. They helped each other up as quickly as they could. With a look of hatred, they turned tail and loped down the alley, leaving their friend behind to fend for himself.

Jena breathed a sigh of relief, or was it a disappointment? She bent down, checking her original antagonist's pulse, ensuring he was not seriously hurt. Jena couldn't help smiling, knowing he and his buddies would think twice before they bullied someone again. Fishing in the unconscious jerk’s pockets for his cell phone, she placed a call for help. Carefully wiping her prints from his phone and slipping it back into his pocket.

Chapter 3 Master has an overnight guest.

Jena picked the little guy up and was surprised at how little he weighed. Gently putting him in her truck, she quickly gathered his stuff, shoving it in his knapsack, and tossed it in the back with her bag. She climbed behind the wheel.

The little guy slumped in the seat, looked up, and said weakly, Why did you come to my rescue?

You needed help. Lay back and relax; I’m taking you to a hospital.

Hospital not necessary; I am okay. He said, straightening up, showing her he was recovering.

Okay, no hospital. I’ll drive you home. Where do you live?

He slumped back in the seat, mumbling something she couldn’t understand.

You have no home, do you? She said gently. He shook his head no.

I am taking you to my Master Ganesha-Kro. He will know how to help you.

You are most kind, thank you. He said, smiling and bowing his head, wincing in pain.

Jena drove to the back of the Mall to her Master’s house, knocking on his door, hoping he had not retired for the night.

Opening the door, he saw Jena holding the stranger with dirty clothes and bleeding. He quickly helped bring him inside. They placed him on the futon in the living room. Ganesha-Kro cleaned his wounds and applied ointment, putting a pillow under his head and an afghan over him. The little guy, exhausted, fell asleep immediately.

Jena followed her Master to the kitchen. He said, Jena, do you know who this man is? What happened to him?

Jena bowed, saying, Master, I do not know who he is. Three young men were abusing him in the alley by my truck. I didn’t intend to interfere; my feet walked down the alley against my will. I pleaded with them to leave him alone; they refused to leave. I told them I was a Black Belt, but they laughed. I did not instigate the fight, but I needed to help him, and when they turned on me, I had to defend myself. He refused to go to a hospital; I hope I made the right choice bringing him here.

You did the right thing bringing him here. Master Gaakmel-Li was to arrive here tomorrow.

You know him?

Yes, he is my friend; it has been many years since we have had time together. Thank you for saving his life and bringing him to me.

Master, when he wakes, he will tell you the story of the fight. Two of the men were able to run away; the third one was still out cold and may need a hospital. I kicked him hard on the jaw.

Where did this happen? I will make a call to get him help.

It is unnecessary. I used his cell phone and called before I left, Jena said, bowing.

That is good, Jena; however, the police take a dim view of Black Belt martial artists street-fighting for any reason. Were you careful not to leave prints on his phone?

Yes, Master, Jena said, bowing again.

Good. You did the right thing defending my friend. However, a better course of action would have been calling for help.

Bowing her head, she said, Yes, Master.

Jena left her Master’s bungalow and drove home in a daze, her mind swirling around several conclusions. Did she put her Master or the dojo in danger? She still felt it was the right thing to do, no matter her personal cost.

Jena didn’t get her long run, but after a long hot shower, she crawled into bed, falling into the sleep of the dead. Only then could the memories that remained locked away during the day come rushing unbidden into her dreams. As she lay in her small bed, she was, again, transported back to that time and place that sent thrills and chills through her body.

She couldn’t help smiling in her sleep. She was once again back in her beautiful lace and satin Prom dress, feeling like the Belle of the Ball and Cinderella all rolled into one. She looked in a mirror and