Welcome again to YAFF Muse: blog rounds. The ladies of YA Fiction Fanatics have come together for YAFF Muse. To have a little fun, explore different styles of writing and to give you some kick-butt shorts to read. Enjoy!
PHOTO CREDIT: IMGo796xe by Ardelfin
I shivered against the crisp October air, as Ian tugged me toward the park. There in big, bold letters was a sign that read CLOSED. I came to a halt. Not that I was a chicken-shit or anything, but some rules weren’t meant to be broken.
“Come on, Love. We’re only going to the park,” Ian said. His ever adorable British accent would never get old.
He released my hand, staring down at me with stormy gray eyes. His shaggy auburn hair fell across his eyes and he did a quick flip of his head to get it back in place. Ian traced my cheek; his fingers cool against my skin.
“But the sign says they’re closed.” But it wasn’t the only thing that unnerved me. Gram had one strict rule in our house. No going into the park. Ever.
“Lena.” His lips met mine in a small, enticing kiss. “I promise all I want to do is go to the fountain and toss in some coins.” He smiled.
My pulse quickened. I swallowed the lump in my throat, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. He didn’t know my parents were murdered in the park. Ten years ago, today. I’d been six years old, which seemed almost a lifetime ago. But it was time to face my fears. To go back.
“Fine. But we have to make it quick.” I fingered the pentagram necklace at my throat. It felt like fire against my hand. I stiffened.
Ian’s fingers entwined with mine and he led me toward some loose rungs in the gate. We squeezed through. Dead leaves littered the cement walkway, skittering at our feet as the wind picked up. The scent of autumn heavy in the air.
Chills snaked up my back and across my skin. I shouldn’t be here. But before I could change my mind, Ian looped his arm through mine and ushered me toward the fountain. Three stone figures stood in the middle of the fountain. Cold rock cloaks covered the gothic trio as water whispered around their feet.
Ian reached into his pocket, coins jingling in his hand. “Here, you make a wish first.” He clasped my hand.
Something sharp scraped against my palm. “Ow.”
He closed his hand over my fist and the coins. “Throw them in.”
I hesitated as I watched the strange gleam in his eye.
No. Don’t do it
. A voice called in my mind.
My eyes widened. I knew that voice. It belonged to my mom. I took a step away from the fountain, but Ian clutched me tight forcing me to drop the coins into the water.
Wisps of fog swirled around the statues; the water bubbled and boiled as if it was a cauldron hanging over a hearth.
“What have you done?” I shrieked.
But Ian only stared at the sculptures. The stone cloaks fell away from the statues heads. Then I saw her. My mother. And next to her was my dad.
“Lena, you have to stop this.” Mom’s eyes darted to the third and final statue. “Before the spell is completely broken.”
“Oh, Goddess.” Blood red hair burst with flames, eyes the color of hot coals sizzled with power. A fire demon.
Ian bowed before the demon. “Master, I’ve come to free you.”
“The hell you have.” I tore the dagger from my belt. “I Lena, light witch of the Goddess invoke the spirit of earth to bind the demon.” In one swift motion, I sliced my palm and dripped blood into the fountain’s water.
I turned to Ian, who glared at me. “You can’t stop this. The demon will be free.”
“No. She’ll destroy everything. Even you.” I knew I had to make the sacrifice, even as I stared at the tears in my mother’s eyes. She didn’t want this for me. But she’d already done her duty. Now it was my turn.
Without a second thought, I lunged at Ian with the blade, catching him in the arm. But it was enough. We both tumbled into the fountain.
“No.” Ian tried to stand, but I clung to him.
“Great towers, I invoke thee. Bind us and use us as instruments of your will. Earth, I invoke thee. Water, I invoke thee. Air, I invoke thee. Fire, I invoke thee.”
Power surged through my blood. A great light burst from the sky. The ground trembled beneath our feet. The shriek of the demon was the last thing I heard as me, Ian, and the demon were turned into stone.
It was my turn to guard the demon and her subject. Like my mother and father before me.
Thanks for coming by. Please be sure to drop by my fellow YAFFers blogs and don’t forget to leave a comment.