by M. C. Allen
I fell against the tree again, but this time I wasn’t stopped by the rough bark. I kept falling and felt an electric shock run through my body like I had hit my funny bone in every part of my body. I found myself lying on my belly in the mud, but not in Louisiana.
The area around me was filled by a semicircle of robed forms who were chanting in a foreign language. Latin? That’s what everyone chanted when they were in the movies, but they didn’t look like monks.
Monks didn’t carry knives in the movies. Big ones. Not shiny and ornamental like the ones I’d seen at the mall in the fantasy shop with the dragon statues and ninja throwing stars. These were dark and looked like they were worn from regular use. The group of chanters held the blades in their outstretched hands as they intoned in their weirdly accented language.
It was night here and my breath formed steam from my mouth and nose. Winter? It was spring, not winter! April in the South was like summer already.
The chanting stopped, and all eyes settled on me on the ground before them. It was too dark to see their faces. One of the forms spoke.
“We hebben een aanbod van de goden!” They moved towards me with their knives up and ready for me. I feaked and jumped away from them.
One of the shadows bellowed, “Laat haar niet weg te krijgen! Dit kan onze enige manier om de poort te openen!”
I backpedaled and tripped over Sofi’s back. The breath was knocked out of me, but I still tried to scream and gain my feet. Sofi jumped at the tree and bounced off of the solid trunk with a “thunk.” I climbed to my feet and sprinted to the house letting loose with a scream. I pounded up the three porch steps and bolted into the utility room. I slammed the door shut and threw the deadbolt. Crap! Sofi was still out there! I glanced out the curtained window and saw the lab sitting on her haunches and whimpering at the tree. None of the men were chasing me. The yard was clear.
“Juliet, what is going on? What are you screaming about?” Mom ran to me and hugged me close. I was crying I realized, and apparently hyperventilating since I couldn’t catch my breath. I smelled the scent of supper in her hair, and the mild perfume she always wore even when she was just hanging around the house doing Mom things.
“I heard you out there, what scared you honey?” She looked out the curtained window as I had seconds before. Mom scanned the yard and noticed Sofi sitting in the same spot.
I didn’t know what to tell Mom. She would think I had lost it if I told her what I had just experienced. Was it real? Had I lost it? People said that Grandmother was crazy, and she should have been sent to “a facility” years ago before she hurt someone. I couldn’t face that so I made up a story on the fly.
“I thought I heard something in the woods and I freaked a little. I must have been hearing things, because Sofi doesn’t look upset or even barking. See? She is just looking for more squirrels.” Mom waited at the door and watched the back yard for movement. Dad wasn’t coming home until late like always. He worked too much, Mom said, but the money was good.
“Keep this door locked. Go ahead and get cleaned up, and I’ll see you at the kitchen table for supper. I’m calling your dad.”
“No, Mom. I must be hearing things. Don’t bother him at work, you know he doesn’t like it.” He really didn’t. I heard them argue one night when Mom called about something that she thought was important, but he didn’t see it that way. Dad made decent money according to Mom, but his boss was a jerk who liked to fire people for stupid reasons.
“Fine, but you are not going back out there this evening if you are going to scream and carry on like that.” Mom was scared not about what I might have heard, but my reaction had her worried it seemed.
“I’m sorry, I’ll be right down.” I went upstairs to my room and got a change of clothes. Both the back of my shirt and pants were covered in dirt. The front of my shirt was smeared with a darker mud that didn’t match the stains on the backside. Mud? It was dry out there right now. Was I going nuts? None of this was possible.
I changed out of my now dirty clothes in the tiny bathroom that I called my own. Being the only child had benefits including not sharing a bathroom with a sister or a gross little brother. I fished my cellphone out of my back pocket and checked for messages.
The screen was dead. My protective case and screen were both unscratched or dinged up except for the time I had dropped it at school trying to text mom that I had missed the bus. Holding down on the power button, I tried to restart it. Nothing happened.
No, no, no! It can’t be dead! All of my contacts, photos, and music was on that phone. Forgetting about the stained clothes, I left them lying on the floor and raced to my room to check my laptop. Plugging the phone into the charging cord and connecting to my sticker encrusted computer, I waited for the program to identify my phone. Nothing happened. It was fried.
Look for The Sacrifice Tree by M.C. Allen
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
EPILOGUE
AFTERWARD
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
EPILOGUE
AFTERWARD
