by Kaitlyn Hoyt
GRABBING THE CAR KEYS OFF the counter, I rush out the front door, and am surrounded by the musty smell of the rain. The downpour has relented to a soft drizzle while various shades of grays are accumulating in the sky, swirling around one another like a van Gogh painting. The gloomy clouds that had gathered and drenched the earth are starting to drift away into nothingness. The trees begin to sway as the wind picks up, rustling their leaves together, creating a whisper of noise throughout the town.
Thankful to be out of the strange weather, I turn the car keys in the ignition. The car comes to life, a steady thrum reverberating throughout the vehicle. Being a small town, the only bookstore is the local BlackMoon Bookstore on Amber Avenue. It will only take a few minutes to drive over there. Since it is a small town though, I have to park out of the way, and walk to the store.
Pulling into a parking lot at the back of Second Chances, the local thrift store, I get out of the car and begin walking toward the bookstore located across the street. I stop at the crosswalk to push the walk button…only there isn’t a walk button. Since the weekend has begun, Stormfield is pretty quiet. Most people would have gone into Brookville, the larger town located a few miles away for their weekend festivities. Without bothering to look before crossing, I take a step off of the curb, and into the road.
After a couple of steps, a bright light and a loud noise echoing down the street blind me to my right: a car horn. Everything freezes around me. The wind picks up, and blows my hair across my face, momentarily blocking my vision. My heart is beating a mile a minute, as if trying to escape my chest. I’m sure that if anyone were near, they could hear its loud beat. My airways constrict, making it difficult to breathe. I try to move my feet, but they seem to be glued to the ground, forbidding any movement. Fear overwhelms me as I see the car getting closer.
During times like this, most people would say their life flashed before their eyes. I don’t know what kind of situation those people went through, because the only coherent thought running through my mind is Crap, I’m going to be hit by a car.
Suddenly, the sky darkens, lightning cracks overhead, thunder booms directly above, and the intensity of the wind increases; the car is less than a foot away from me. Since moving is impossible, I close my eyes, and wait for the pain—wait for my inevitable death.
It never comes.
The car horns blares, nearly blowing out my eardrums, and at the last possible second, a large gust of wind blows through the street, picking me up, and depositing me on the other side of the road. I put my arms out to try and stop the momentum, but I only manage to scratch my exposed skin.
My body collides with the curb, successfully stopping the rolling. Turning onto my back, I try to catch my breath because the wind was knocked out of me during the fall. I can’t suppress the painful groan from escaping my lips as feeling returns to my body. Black spots start to dot my vision. Moaning, I attempt to roll over and sit up, but am overcome with dizziness. I hear the sound of a bell, a door open, and then footsteps running toward me. The car speeds past me while the driver yells all sorts of obscenities out the window.
“Oh my goodness, dear. Are you hurt? I saw what happened, but couldn’t make it to you soon enough.”
I look toward the sound of the voice, but can’t concentrate on who is speaking to me. The world is spinning, creating duplicates of everything. I feel the woman reach for my hand. Wrapping my arm around her neck, her other arm wraps around my waist, and she pulls me up. Leaning almost all of my weight on her, she walks me toward her store: the BlackMoon Bookstore.
“Colton, go get me an icepack, and some Advil from the back,” she yells to someone once we step in the doorway.
Muffled into the background, I hear a book being dropped, and the sound of footsteps receding. The woman guides me toward a nearby chair. Overcome with a headache, I lean my head forward and place it onto my knees. My long, dark, curly hair falls forward and creates a curtain around my face, encasing me in my own world. I take a deep breath, hoping that the pain will stop soon.
After a couple of minutes, the room slowly stops spinning, and I am finally able to lift my head and look around. Large shelves of books, both old and new, clutter the small shop. I can tell by looking around that certain sections have more visitors than others. Some shelves have more dust lining their edges, while others are completely clean. The wallpaper is a deep shade of purple, fading with age, with small golden stars dispersed evenly on its surface. The back of the shop has large, leather-bound books behind a display case at the register.
“Are you okay, honey? Where does it hurt?”
Flinching at her loud tone, I start shaking my head and reply, “Ugh, my head.” It comes out as nothing more than a whisper. I can’t muster anything louder. Placing my head into my hands, I close my eyes, and block out my surroundings again. How the heck did I get across the street? I should be dead right now or, at least, on my way to the hospital. This doesn’t make sense.
“I couldn't find an icepack, but here's the Advil. Is she hurt?” inquires a deep voice that I’m assuming belongs to Colton.
Without moving from my current position, I answer. “I’m fine.” I don’t feel fine, but I don’t want any more attention than is necessary.
“Well, you don’t look fine,” he retorts.
“Colton, leave the girl alone. She was almost hit by a car. Here dear, take this. It’ll help the headache.”
Lifting my head, I squint because of the bright lights. Seeing her outstretched hand with two small pills in it, I reach out and grab them along with bottle of water that she offers me. Throwing the pills back, I take a sip of water and swallow.
When my eyes adjust, I finally get a look at who is talking to me. The woman who is crouching in front of me looks to be in her late forties or early fifties. She has tanned skin, as if she spends a lot of time outdoors, and light blonde hair with small streaks of gray. Her face is scrunched together with concern, emphasizing her wrinkles. She is beautiful. Her aged appearance gives off an aura of wisdom, and for that, I immediately trust her. My eyes don’t stay on her for long though, because I am drawn to the man standing behind her, looking at me closely.
He looks like he walked straight out of photo shoot for GQ. Looking to be about six feet tall, he stands almost a whole foot taller than me. His arms are crossed in front of his chest, emphasizing his muscular physique. He has dark, shaggy brown hair that shines under the dulled light of the store. My hand twitches with the desire to reach out and touch it—to push the long ends out of his eyes. My eyes slowly travel down from his hair and meet his gaze.
When our eyes connect, my stomach tightens. There is something mesmerizing about his eyes. The color maybe? He stares back at me with deep emerald eyes; the color of the leaves in the fall, right before they begin to change colors. I swallow audibly, and try to clear the fog in my mind. He is gorgeous, and I can’t stop staring at him. It takes everything in me not to let out a girly sigh at the attractiveness of this man. Talk about awkward…
“Ryanne?” he asks. “Ryanne Arden?”
His deep voice breaks my trance. Dang, even his voice is hot. Why didn’t I notice that before? Blinking rapidly, I look away. He looks familiar. I rack my brain trying to recognize him. I must have a look of confusion on my face, because the corner of his full mouth rises slightly, as if I had said something funny.
“How do you know my name?” I ask, slowly trying to keep the obvious embarrassment out of my voice.
“We go to the same school.” His straightforward answer baffles me. I know I would have recognized him had I seen him at school. When I continue watching him, he starts smiling at me, a full-blown smile that would cause any grown woman to stop in her tracks and gawk. Diverting my eyes, I stare down at the patterned carpet. I can’t think straight with him looking at me like that.
Fidgeting in my chair, the only response I can come up with is, “Oh.” I’m not very attentive in school, but I hope that I would have
recognized this totally attractive guy if I had seen him before. I can’t be that out of it all the time, right?
Outside, the storm begins to pick up again. Loud thunder sounds, shaking the windows of the old shop. Startled, I jump and look out the window, watching the heavy rain flood the street. The sudden movement and loud noise causes my headache to worsen. I hear the woman talking, but I can’t tear my eyes from the window.
Feeling someone tap my leg, I jerk my eyes away, and look at the woman crouching in front of me. “Sorry, what?”
Slightly amused, she repeats, “Why didn’t you move when you saw the car coming?”
“I tried, but I couldn’t. I felt like I was frozen.”
Colton gives me a look that I can’t decipher. “Then how did you end up…not…getting hit?”
With a sigh, I turn and look out the window again. “I don’t know. One second I was looking at the car coming toward me, thinking I was about to die, and the next second I was on the other side of the road.” I turn and look back at them, debating on whether or not I want to tell them more. “This is going to sound crazy, but I think the wind pushed me.”
They both glance at each other briefly, and then turn back toward me. “The wind?”
“Yeah, right before the car was going to hit me, there was a huge gust of wind. I felt like I had been picked up and blown to the…” Judging by their facial expressions, they both think I’m going insane. “You know what? Never mind. Forget I said anything.”
“No, dear, we believe you.”
“You do?”
The woman reaches out, and puts her hand on my knee. “This town is full of unexplainable things. Not everything is as it seems.”
“Wh—”
While I try to respond, Colton throws the woman an enigmatic expression. “Well, I have to be getting back to work. I hope you feel better soon, Ryanne.” Abruptly, he turns around and walks away. My eyes follow him as he leaves the aisle, and disappears from my sight.
“I apologize for the rudeness of my nephew. How is your head?”
I pause and think about it. I’m not in as much pain anymore. “Actually, it feels much better, thank you. The Advil really worked.”
“Indeed, the Advil. Well, if you are feeling better, is there anything I can help you with?”
“No, I’m…Well, yes. I actually came here to buy a book. Do you have The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis? I’m supposed to read it for school.”
“Ah, C.S. Lewis. Yes, I do. Follow me.”
I follow her back to the fantasy section where she steps onto a step stool to reach the books on the top shelf. “Hmm, I know it is up here somewhere,” she mumbles to herself.
Eye level to me was a thickly bound book: Witchcraft 101: Guidebook to Basic Spells. Its black cover and cursive violet text outlined in gold, captures my attention. Taking it off the shelf, I turn it over, and read the back cover.
“Do people actually buy these books?”
“You’d be surprised. Will this be all?” She hands the book to me.
Reaching for it, I say, “Yes, thank you very much for everything.”
“You’re very welcome. No need to thank me. I hope you are feeling better. Now, go to the front, and ask Colton to check that out for you.”
Firmly holding the book in my hands, I walk to the front of the store and see Colton, with his back to me, reaching toward the top shelf, dusting it off. I just watch him. He barely has to stretch to reach it. His shirt has risen slightly under his extended arm, exposing a patch of tanned skin. Is there anything wrong with this guy? I must have made a noise, because he turns around and catches me staring. I jerk my eyes from him, but the damage is already done. He raises his eyebrows and smirks at me. “Can I help you with anything?”
My face turns a deep shade of red. I can’t help it; I’m a blusher. I place the book on the counter, and push it toward him. “I need to pay for this,” I reply, while still avoiding eye contact. I pick up a pen from a small display on the counter, and pretend to be interested in it.
At that moment, lightning lights up the sky and thunder rumbles, causing me to jump and drop the pen I had in my hands. Feeling my face turn a deeper shade of red, I bend over and pick it up, putting it back where I found it. I can feel his eyes on me the entire time, but I refuse to look up at him. Moving on, I pretend to be interested in the set of bookmarks lining the front counter. Chuckling, he grabs my book and rings it up.
I hand him the cash without looking at him. I know I’m already blushing insanely and, if I look at him, it’ll deepen.
“Do you need a bag for this?”
“Umm, nope. I can carry it. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Oh, and drive carefully. The weather is pretty bad.”
Nodding, I turn around and walk out of the store. This time, I look both ways before crossing the road. That was enough excitement for one day.
