It wasn't easy to leave her home behind, but Raschel knew that she had no choice. The witches were on the move again, coming up from the south, casting a dark shadow over the horizon. She put on her wool coat and threw her bag over her shoulder. Silently, she bowed her head and said a little prayer. She wished that her dad was here to see her, but she quickly shook off that thought and steeled herself for the journey ahead. Stepping into the sunlight, she closed the door, realizing that she had been holding her breath.
Tom Callahan was waiting on his chestnut horse in the front yard, beside him was Raschel's white mare, Sandy: who pawed the dirt impatiently with her hoof. Raschel put on her hat, and mounted her horse. Together, they rode away from her childhood home and into the prairie.
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The rain was slashing down in sheets, crashing against the windows as the wind shook the house. Jeremy was sitting at the dining room table with his parents, pushing the chewy pot roast and shriveled carrots around his plate apathetically.
His dad cleared his throat and peered at him over his horn-rimmed bifocals. “You should eat up, Jermy, you’ve a long night ahead of you.”
Jeremy shrugged. “I just wish we didn’t have to go tonight, Uncle Emmett is so weird, and I only just finished school today.” He pushed an undercooked potato in his mouth, and tried to chew it.
“Well, there’s no two ways about it. Your Uncle said today would work best for him, and your mom and I are very grateful to him for taking you in this summer while we’re in Italy: so tonight it is.” He pushed his glasses back up, and smiled at his wife, rubbing his tummy like God himself couldn’t have cooked a better roast.
Jeremy’s mom and dad, Mr. and Mrs. Barber, were both medium heightish, but kinda heavy set. They both had rosy cheeks, and salt and pepper hair; although his mom’s hair was much more prevalent. Mr. Barber was a vacation salesman, which is how they’d gotten such a great deal on their trip for two to Italy. His mother worked part time at the library, and taught a water aerobics class on the weekends.
Mr. Barber checked his enormous gold wristwatch, and wiped his mouth. “I trust you’re all packed up then?” Which was more an assertion than a question.
“Yes, Dad. Are you sure I can’t take my iPod or Laptop?”
“You know your Uncle lives in the boonies, and he’s got no electricity.”
“All packed then. When do we go?”
His dad wiped his mouth once more, and brushed his hands on his cargo pants. “We may as well head out. Martha, are you coming with?”
“Of course, dear,” she replied sweetly. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything. Sending off my little boy for the whole summer!”
Jeremy groaned in protest. “Mom! I’m almost fifteen!”
“But still my baby.” She smiled.
Before he could say ‘clunker’, they were all packed in his parent’s ramshackle minivan. They took the highway out of town, headed off into the rainy night. Jeremy dozed on and off, waking now and again to his parent’s flirtatious laughter, or an especially large pothole. Slowly, the rain died off, and a full silver moon came out from behind the clouds, lighting the world below almost as bright as day. The van jerked to a stop, and Jeremy woke, rubbing his eyes. He stumbled out of the rusty van and got his bags from the back.
“Come along, Jermy!” He could see the blurry image of his dad leading the way through the tombstones.
Tombstones?
“Where are we?” Asked Jeremy, sleepily. “Does Uncle Emmet live in a graveyard?”
“Sort of!” His mom replied, much too cheerful for the late hour.
“Here we are!” His dad was grinning, ear to ear. His eyes looked huge behind his thick glasses, which reflected strangely in the moonlight. He swept his arm dramatically like a ringmaster.
Jeremy looked down. At his feet was an open grave. A couple of dozen feet deep. “Is this some kind of weird joke?” He inquired, hopefully.
“Nope!” Smiled his dad. And with that, his parents shoved him in.
“Have a nice trip!” His dad yelled after him.
“See you next fall!” Shouted his mom, giggling.
Jeremy was free falling through the black. Panic gripped his mind, and his heart stopped beating. Still he was falling. The moon was far overhead now, his parents two hazy blobs. He closed his eyes, bracing for impact. He just knew he was going to break his legs or something.
Finally, he smacked into the dirt below, a cloud of dust flew into the air. Slowly opening his eyes, he took a damage report. Everything seemed intact. No excruciating pain to cause concern.
That's when he realized: it was the middle of the afternoon - and his crazy uncle Emmett was standing over him, grinning a mile wide.
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Post Script:
This is an excerpt from a Young Adult book I am writing. (the Barbershop Quaretet, Book 1: the Cruel Knife) This is a VERY rough draft, and may end up not turning out anything like this. However, I hope you enjoy it anyway!
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