Queens of Aventurine

By Jan Bozarth and Analeia Bella Madden

Teen sisters Annabel and Maureen Brighton, receive a mysterious shoebox containing their inheritance from their mother. It contains a letter, a tapestry, and a family artifact. The artifact is a magical device that transports the sisters to the world of Aventurine where they discover their family legacy, their powers and the hundred year pr

• Language: English
• Publisher: Aventurine Dream Publishing
• Release date: Feb 29, 2024
• ISBN: 9781735749020

Book preview

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dedication

For all my children-birthed, grand, adopted, step,married into, acquired, discovered and yet to be!

© Aventurine Studio One LCC, 2023

Published by Aventurine Dream Publishing

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 979-8-9892745-0-5

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.

Illustrations by Analeia Bella Madden

Ebook formatting by Red Cape Production

Cover design by Red Cape Production

Chapter 1

The Inheritance

It was stunningly sudden, the worst thing a young girl could imagine. The Barrister’s car turned left when he should have turned right. Our parents were here and then they weren’t. I was sixteen and my sister was thirteen.

Almost immediately, our well-meaning family, the Brightons of Devon, started to work on us. There were loud talks in our living room about raising me, the wild teenager; on how to comfort my sister, the sweet sensitive natured girl; and on how to get their hands on our property, which they said, ‘should go to them after all’. I had no previous experience with death but it appeared to me that a few hours after the actual event, life just went on like nothing had happened. The funeral was over and it was business as usual on the streets of Devon.

Aunt Bibi grabbed me by the arm and pulled me behind the animal topiaries to the left of the church steps as we poured out in a sea of friends and loved ones. Before I could say a word, she reached into the slat of her cape and pulled out a package and shoved it into my chest.

It was your mother’s wish. You and Maureen must open this straight away, but don’t let anyone else see, Bibi instructed in a hushed tone and a ‘keep the secret’ wink.

What is it? I asked.

It’s your inheritance. That’s all I can say here, Bibi said.

She looked around nervously to be sure no one else was listening. Bibi was the ‘good aunt’ and mother knew she would waste no time executing her last wish of delivering the special shoebox. She turned and started walking back to the crowd in front of the church, leaving me stunned and holding the mysterious box. She glanced back at me and shot me a look that meant she would distract the relatives until I could get away. Bibi worked everyone, including Vicar Lewis, by talking loudly, dancing and twirling from pods of friends to couples, aunts, and cousins. Her dance included flamboyantly waving her arms which made her fuchsia colored cape look like giant bird wings. I was supposed to get Maureen and get back home without anyone noticing the brightly wrapped shoebox in a sea of black.

My sister and I wore simple black dresses with our hair pulled back in buns. We were not allowed to have large fuchsia wings to wave about. We were officially orphans. The Brightons liked to label everyone as if they might get us confused without one. From that day forward I would be known as the troublemaking teenager. Maureen remained their sweet natured girl. Aunt Bibi was, and always would remain, the outlier. She was our fuchsia to their black.

Maureen didn’t know what was happening so I made small talk as we headed away from the church grounds and toward our house two blocks away.

Don’t you love their harmonies? I asked.

I knew it was random and that my sister would have absolutely no idea what I was jabbering about.

What? Who? Why are we walking so fast? What’s that box? she asked.

I was thinking about the music of my new favorite band. Have you heard of the Lindys? Maybe we should go to London and see them? I said.

I kept talking to Maureen pretending she would care about my music, which I knew she did not. She could tell something was wrong, but all I needed to do was get her home with the box.

But I’m only thirteen. How will we get there? What’s that box? Maureen said.

I was going to have to tell her eventually, but I preferred the dream of going to London with her and seeing my latest musical crush. I thought we could stop at Carnaby Street and get new clothes, bell bottom pants with flowers, and leather boots too. All of this was preferable to thinking about death and loss and change. I had purchased that record with my own money so I was feeling quite independent.

Earlier that morning, I overheard the relatives saying that Daddy had left the house to us. They seemed mad. I told myself it was all going to be ok. We could sell the house and I could take care of myself and my sister.

I walked another hundred feet when I realized Maureen was no longer walking next to me. She had stopped a while back and was waiting for me to notice.

Come on, Maureen! I screamed.

Not until you tell me what’s going on. What’s in the box? I’m just thirteen. I don’t want to run away, Maureen said.

She yelled until her voice trailed off into sobs. I had always been the big sister in charge of Maureen. I called her Mo whenever I was bossing her around. I was definitely the boss now and she knew it. But this was different and I knew it. I wasn’t exactly prepared to be a sixteen year old parent.

I walked back to Maureen and took her hand to comfort her like I did when we were little. We did not speak. I held her hand until we reached our front door. Maureen opened the door and the jingle bell tied to the handle rang like it always did. It seemed louder in our silence. We walked up the stairs to the room we had shared for twelve and a half years. I placed the box on the bed. She just looked at it but still said nothing.

It’s Wednesday. Who’s going to tell the story tonight? Maureen asked.

I can do it, if you want, I said.

It’s our secret inheritance from Mother. Aunt Bibi slipped it to me like a spy at the church. That’s why we had to get away fast, I told her.

Maureen picked up the box and turned it over. She gently touched the blue paper with the red birds, stroking them like they were real birds.

Why did she want it secret? Maureen asked.

I don’t know. Maybe we should open it before we do the story? Hand it to me, Maureen! I said.

My curiosity surpassed my fear of seeing what was in the box. I reached to grab it out of her grip but she would not immediately give it up. I locked eyes with her.

Let me have it! I screamed.

Maureen’s shoulders relaxed, she loosened her grip and reluctantly passed it to me.

I tried to untie the knot in the ribbon. It was too tight to undo, but I was determined. I didn’t want to leave the room to get the scissors. Maureen might tear into it without me. I grunted and whined for nearly five minutes of trying to undo the ribbon.

Got it! I said.

The ribbon fell to the sides of the box in slow motion. Maureen’s face softened to excited anticipation as I lifted the top of the shoebox.

What was so important she had to wrap it up so tight? Mother always loved drama. This better be good!

Come on. Take something out, Maureen urged.

I was scared to touch it. It was like a puzzle in a box so I was careful to keep things in order. I dug in gently, moving each item to one side to see the other beneath it. I saw something in my mother’s handwriting, a folded piece of fabric, and a shiny pointed thing with a painted handle. I lifted a corner of the fabric to see just a small piece of what looked like mother’s old crystal.

Maureen’s hand swished past my face and dipped down into the box to grab something.

First things first, let’s see what she has to say, Maureen insisted.

Mother never did anything willy nilly. She meant for each item to come out, one at a time and in the order she put them in, I said.

What was that? we both said at the same time.

We waited a few seconds and resumed wrestling for the letter until we heard the sound again, but louder. It was a light tapping at the bedroom door.

Hello. Girls, are you there?

It’s Mrs. Snooper, our mother’s Weaver Queen Club friend. She is coming to check on us, I guess. Quick, hide the stuff, I urged.

Maureen moved the half open box under the bed covers and behind her.

It’s Mrs. Stocker, the lady said.

She cracked our bedroom door just enough to stick her head inside.

At the same time, Maureen and I said, Come in!

We were trying not to act suspicious.

Oh, let me give you each a big hug. I’m so sorry for your sadness. I loved your mummy. And your father was a pillar of the community. What a tragedy! Mrs. Stocker said.

Snooper fell onto our bed and began to weep. We immediately started plotting how to get rid of her. I could see Maureen rolling her eyes behind Snooper.

Isn’t she here to comfort us?

We knew she and mother were NOT that close in real life. She was always asking questions that were none of her business. That’s how she got the name ‘Snooper’. Maureen adjusted herself to make more room when Snooper saw the box peeking out from under the covers.

What do we have here? Are these the things your mother left for you? Snooper said.

Yes, but we have not really opened it yet. We were just starting when… Maureen said.

I would quite like to stay and comfort you when you do, Mrs. Snooper said.

Maureen and I looked at each other and decided it couldn’t be avoided. One by one we removed each item. The letter was already out and pushed deeper under the covers where it couldn’t be seen by Snooper. We slowly removed the remaining items. First we folded the cloth. Then the thing with the painted handle was taken out and set on the bed. We really did not want to read the letter in front of Mrs. Snooper. I picked up the fabric and unfolded it.

OOOOOOHHHHH, we all said at once.

It’s a story tapestry! Maureen shouted out.

It’s a Destiny Tapestry, young lady. Didn’t she ever tell you what we ladies did at our weaving club every Wednesday? Snooper said.

Well, no, actually she didn’t tell us or show us anything about it. We thought it was…. I said.

Maureen kicked me under the covers. We both made sad puppy eyes and looked down at our legs trying to drum up a few tears. We needed her to leave. She took the bait.

Why don’t I come back tomorrow, dears? Try to get some sleep, Snooper said.

She shut the door behind her, taking the air with her. I hadn’t noticed but I must have been holding my breath the whole time. As soon as the door shut I fell over sideways and gasped.

I thought she would never leave. Get the letter, I said.

Maureen obeyed me right away this time. She handed it over and I proceeded to read it out loud.

My Dearest Daughters:

I trust Aunt Bibi followed my exact instructions and got the shoebox to you without family interference. In this box you will find the three most important things I possess.

First-The heavy fabric that is folded in the box is a Destiny Tapestry. I made it when I was pregnant with you, Maureen, Wednesdays at the Weaver Queens. You can see by the giant oak tree and fuchsia peonies that this one was accurately envisioned just for you. Annabel, you have probably noticed that there is only one tapestry in the box. Yours was lost or stolen years ago under some mysterious circumstances. I assure you that my vision for you was even more elaborate and very different from your sister’s. But there was a flood and the tapestry was lost. I feared the suddenness of it. No matter who or what took it, the result was to try to deny your destiny. I felt I had to hide Maureen’s after that. So, yes, I hid my dreams for both of you for years. I always wondered if it was better to know your destiny early in life or to seek it over a lifetime. Either way, like all the Brighton women, I had my dreams.

My second gift is an artifact known in our family as a Long Viewer, a tool that helps you see beyond. Ours is a Mermaid Crystal Viewer to be exact. It’s for both of you to share. You remember that crystal shard I used to keep on the dresser, the one I inherited from my mother? You pretended it was a sword when you were very little. You have already felt the strong Brighton Family magic in it, and that was before I embellished it.

After the loss of Annabel’s tapestry I added something to it for protection. This additional magic was a gift from a young woman I helped at the start of the war. When she left, she gave me a golden silk talisman pouch filled with things of the sea like sand, shells, pearls, and a swatch of the most unusual lace. I made the clay mermaid from the sand and shells. I used the pearls for the mermaid’s eyes and the lace was tied around her waist. There is an eyepiece near the tail that allows you to see through the crystal.

My third and final gift is a Story Seed. You both always loved our Wednesday night bedtime story and you never seemed to tire of the same one over and over. I never explained how important that particular story was to our kind. Each generation is expected to add to the code within the seed before it is planted in the next generation.

Be warned, there are those who will try to take your gifts. The weaker your magic, the harder it will be to remember who you are. You must use this inheritance to find what has been lost and to protect the future. Take care of each other always. When you are ready, look through the eyepiece. You will know what to do after that. Remember, you are Brightons. You are coded for greatness.

Forever,

Mother

When I looked up from the letter Maureen was holding the viewer and turning it over and over and inspecting the painted mermaid face with jeweled eyes.

It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Help us see beyond what? She was obsessed with those stories, Maureen said.

I set the letter down on the bed table. I would need to read it again in the morning when I wasn’t so exhausted from grief and surprises. I couldn’t forget that it was MY tapestry that was lost. I would never know what Mother saw as my destiny. And see beyond? I was sure she must have meant to see beyond Devon. That was our mother, always weaving facts and fiction! Maureen and I both yawned and laughed at the same time.

Fingle lingle, I said.

Swazoo, she followed.

That was our secret game. It