The Pariah Child & the Ever-Giving Stone

by Natasha D Lane

  The Pariah Child &

  The Ever-Giving Stone

  By Natasha D. Lane

  Text copyright 2013 by Natasha D. Lane

  First copyrighted as The Mystic Stone

  All Rights Reserved

  The Pariah Child & the Ever-Giving Stone

  Cover design by Benlin Alexander

  Edited by Stephanie Diaz

  Content Edited by KD Wood

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review.

  The information in this book is distributed on an “as is” basis, without warranty. Although every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this work, neither the author nor the publisher shall have any liability to any person or entity with respect to any loss or damage caused or alleged to be caused directly or indirectly by the information contained in this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Pariah puh-rahy-uh par-ee-uh n 1: a rejected member of society 2: a person without status 3: an outcast

  Prologue

  Sarafina danced barefoot in the field, the afternoon Montana sun warming her skin and the grass tickling her tiny feet. Around her, small patches of glittery light flew here and there. These were her friends. They were much smaller than her with translucent wings and shimmering bodies coated in gold.

  Sarah wasn’t sure what her friends were exactly. She only knew they weren’t like her, so she called them fairies because they looked like the little people from her books.

  The fairies showered Sarah in bright gold as the sun beamed down on her, making her titian red hair come to life like flames in a fire.

  As the fairies flew around her, they played tiny instruments, their cheerful melody filling her ears. She closed her eyes and danced faster.

  One fairy broke from the band and flew over to Sarah whose eyes were still closed. He blew a ball of golden dust in her face, and she began to cough uncontrollably. Once the dust had cleared from the air, Sarah took a deep breath, her cheeks now a light red.

  “Gaelin!” she said. “I know it was you. You’re the only one who’d play such a nasty trick.”

  The fairies grouped together and giggled, their wings brightening with each laugh. Ethlen, the eldest of the group, who had flowing gray hair and always wore pretty dresses with jewels, stepped in front of the others. She fluttered over to Sarah, hovering just above her nose.

  “Are you so certain it was Gaelin, child? You know it is never good to speak falsely.”

  “Of course it was,” she said and crossed her arms playfully. “You told me yourself he’s the trickster of the group.”

  Ethlen raised a brow. “I did? Hm, I can’t recall. Seems to me you’ll have to prove it was Gaelin.”

  Sarah gave her a small smile and jutted her chin out. “And if you want me to prove it you’ll have to catch me first.”

  The young girl darted to her left and sprinted around the field with her friends following behind her, dodging the old, stone well that stood in the center of the field. Suddenly, Sarah spun on her heels and turned to face them with one hand held up.

  “Halt!” Sarah took an authoritative pose. The band of fairies came to a stop, hovering a few feet from Sarah. She picked up a stray stick and pointed it at the group. “I wouldn’t go any further if I were you,” she said with a devilish glint in her eyes.

  “And why is that?” asked one fairy.

  Sarah drew a line in the dirt. “Because,” she said, “I am Peter Pan and beyond this line is Neverland. If you want to enter, you’ll have to fight me first. Ha!” She thrust the stick out. “Do any of you dare?”

  The fairies huddled together and whispered to one another, stealing glances at the redheaded child. Sarah waited for their decision, stick at the ready.

  Ethlen turned to Sarah. “Are you ready for our answer?”

  Sarah looked from left to right at the fairies, before puffing out her chest and nodding.

  The fairy smirked. “We dare!” she said, and they all flew at Sarah at once, tickling her sides.

  Sarah dropped the stick to try and protect herself from the onslaught, but it was too late. Her sides shook from laughter while she bit her lip trying to hold back the giggles. She dashed across the field to escape the fairies, but they were tiny and quick.

  I know a place they’ll never find me, Sarah thought as she ran into the woods. She could hear their little wings fluttering behind her, though it didn’t matter. This time she would win.

  She ran to the oldest tree in the forest and wrapped her arms around its trunk.

  “Mother Tree, let me up. The fairies are trying to catch me.”

  The tree lowered one of its branches, and Sarah climbed up, holding on with all her strength as she was lifted from the ground. Once Sarah was up in the tree, she climbed a few more branches and looked around for the fairies below her. When she saw their sparkling trail of dust speed past Mother Tree, she smiled and stuck her tongue out at the receding group.

  “Victory is mine,” she whispered and leaned back on the branch.

  Then, there was a quick snap, and she plummeted downward through the air. Mother Tree reached out with her branches. Sadly, Sarah was falling too fast. As she came crashing to the ground a streak of pain stretched across her left arm. Sarah screamed. She grabbed her arm and began sobbing.

  “Sarah? What happened?” The fairies were moving toward her in their trail of gold. “We heard you scream and—”

  “Sarafina!” Her mother’s voice swept through the forest like a dark cloud. The fairies disappeared, and Mother Tree lifted her branches. Lucille came stomping through the trees.

  “Where are you, girl,” she said. “What have you done now?”

  “I’m here, Mama,” Sarah sobbed. She could see her mother approaching, her white apron snug around her belly and stained from cooking. Lucille was a stout woman with short, light brown hair that curled up around her ears. Her round face went well with her round tummy and pudgy arms, which could warm the coldest child. Lucille had what some would call a mother’s body.

  She marched up to Sarah and shook her head, before tucking her hair behind her ears. She grabbed Sarah by her arm. Her hands were cut and calloused from working on the farm.

  Sarah screamed again as fresh tears fell from her eyes. Her mother dropped her and looked at the tree Sarah had been lying beside.

  “What did I
tell you about climbing these trees?” Lucille’s mouth dropped downward into an angry frown.

  Sarah continued to cry. Her mother grabbed her other arm and dragged her through the woods to their home.

  She sat Sarah down at the kitchen table, grabbed the phone from the side of the wall and stretched the line into the other room.

  When she returned, Lucille crossed her arms and glared at Sarah, making her clamp her mouth shut and turn her cries into sniffles. Within twenty minutes a tall, thin-shouldered man stepped into their house through the small screen door. He wore a long, white coat and carried a black case in his right hand. He greeted Lucille and took a seat beside Sarah before examining her arm.

  “It’s definitely broken,” he said. “We’ll have to take her to the hospital. Are you sure you want the one you requested, ma’am?” He peered over his glasses at Sarah’s mother.

  Lucille gave him a sharp nod, and Sarah was swooped into the doctor’s car. He sped off from their little house and down the streets of their small town. Sarah, with her mother beside her, watched as the tiny houses and shops turned into nothing but trees.

  “Mama, where are we going?” Sarah asked.

  Her mother kept her gaze forward. “To the hospital. The doctor is going to make you all better.”

  “But didn’t we pass the hospital? We’re way past the town now—”

  “It’s a new one,” she snapped. “You’ll understand when we get there.”

  When the car finally stopped, Sarah didn’t recognize where they were. The building had an ominous presence, surrounded by a metal black fence and structures of gargoyles on the roof’s edge. She watched warily as the doctor led them into the building, and straight into a white-walled office where he placed her arm in a cast.

  Sarah felt a great sense of relief. She hopped off the examination table ready to leave, but at the same moment, her mother jumped to her feet and left the room. The girl began stumbling after her mother, but the doctor took hold of her good arm.

  He smiled, showing off a set of perfect teeth.

  It was a very disconcerting smile.

  “Would you like to follow me, Sarah?”

  “Where’s my Mama?” she asked peering at the door her mother had left from.

  “She had to pay the bill. She asked me to watch you until she comes back,” said the doctor. “Actually, I think I have something you’d be interested in. Would you like to come along with me?” He released her arm and held out a hand to her.

  Sarah looked between him and the door.

  “Do I have a choice?” she asked.

  He only continued to smile and took her hand in his to lead her down a hallway.

  “Your mother tells me you talk to trees. Is that true?”

  Sarah chewed her lip. Her mother always said it was bad to lie.

  “Yes, trees, fairies and other things.” She waited for a reaction. He gave none and only stared down at her with that smile still across his face. His eyes were open and wide like he wanted to listen to her.

  She continued on. “They come to visit me, but Mother Tree is my favorite. She’s the oldest, sweetest tree in the woods.”

  “I see,” he said.

  Still holding Sarah’s hand he approached a white door. With a glance at the room number, he kneeled down before Sarah.

  “In here is another person who sees what you see,” he said.

  “You mean things like fairies?”

  “Yes, all of that. Let me introduce you.” He stood up and opened the door to reveal a small colorless room with a bed, desk and chair. In the chair was a woman who was hunched over and scribbling furiously on a sheet of paper on the desk. She didn’t even turn her head in their direction when they entered the room.

  “Susan,” the doctor said. “This is Sarah. I’ve brought her here to meet you. She sees things like you do.”

  The woman did not respond.

  He pulled his hand from Sarah’s and took a step back. “I’ll leave you two be, then.”

  Before Sarah could protest, he had shoved her into the room, closed the door and locked it.

  Sarah gulped down the last of her saliva as her mouth dried. She stared at the door, waiting for the doctor to come back. Instead of hearing the lock click again, she heard the echoing sound of receding footsteps. Then, the hall fell silent. She peered behind her. Susan, as the doctor had called her, had not moved.

  Sarah took a deep breath and turned to face the woman but didn’t dare speak as all of Susan’s attention was placed on her drawing. Moments passed, but Susan continued to ignore the girl’s presence.

  She expected the woman to scream at her, to shout or attack her, but she did nothing. Just drew.

  Maybe she’s not that scary. Sarah took slow steps over to peek at the drawing.

  Susan hid it away.

  “What do you want?” Susan asked, staring at Sarah with two small green eyes from behind a bush of disheveled dark hair.

  Sarah leapt back, the fear returning to her now.

  “Are you sick?” she asked.

  Susan stared at the ceiling without blinking, then, looked back at Sarah.

  “That’s what they keep telling me.”

  “You mean the doctor?” Sarah asked, glancing at the door then turning back to Susan. “I don’t trust him.”

  She looked Sarah up and down. “I don’t trust him either.”

  Her green eyes rolled over Sarah once more. “I’m not used to people. But you seem all right. Maybe we’ll get along.

  Sarah smiled. “I’d like that. I don’t have any friends other than the trees and fairies really. He said you could see them, too.”

  Susan stilled. Her eyes locked onto Sarah. When she spoke, her voice was strained. “You see them, too then? Don’t trust them. Don’t trust them.”

  “What?” Sarah backed up against the door as Susan jumped from her chair and grabbed her by the shoulders.

  “Don’t trust them,” she repeated. “They’re demons. They put me in here! They wouldn’t stop talking to me. Because they wouldn’t stop talking to me... I asked them nicely, I begged!”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sarah cried, fumbling for the door handle, her hands shaking and palms coated in sweat.

  Susan grabbed her chin and forced Sarah to look at her. She rubbed her hands over the girl’s face.

  “I see now,” Susan said, “You’re one of them. Look at you. Coming in disguise now, my little fairy friend. Where’s your fairy dust? Get me out of here.”

  “I can’t,” Sarah whined, her heart nearly ready to beat out of her chest.

  Susan’s hands moved from Sarah’s face to her neck. She leaned her face down to the girl’s so their noses were touching and then screamed.

  “Get me out of here, or I’ll kill you!” Her hands tightened around Sarah’s small throat, slowing the passage of air. Sarah gasped for breath as darkness began to engulf her.

  “I’ll kill you!” Susan continued to scream while shaking Sarah by the neck.

  The door flew open, and Sarah was knocked to the ground. The doctor came back in with two other men dressed in white. They dragged Susan to her bed and held her down. She thrashed under their grasp until the doctor put a needle in her arm. Her body grew limp, but her piercing green eyes continued to bore into Sarah.

  The door creaked. Sarah turned around to see her mother enter the room. She reached out to her, but Lucille didn’t take her hand. Instead she grabbed her by the shoulders.

  “This is where you’ll end up if you keep playing pretend, Sarah,” she said. “I’ll be forced to put you here. Just at age four! You don’t want that, do you?”

  Sarah shook her head, images of Susan flashing through her mind. “No, Mama,” she said.

  “Then you’ll be a good girl from now on?”

  Sarah took one last look at Susan who was now unconscious on the bed. The last bit of blood drained from Sarah’s face and she turned to her mother. “Yes, Mama. I’ll be good.�
�

  “You’re going to stop talking to all your imaginary friends?”

  Sarah bobbed her head up and down repeatedly. “Yes, Mama. I won’t talk to them anymore.”

  The doctor dropped Sarah and Lucille off.

  “You’ll be normal now, Sarah. Just a normal little gal.” He smiled his teeth somehow whiter than they were before. Sarah didn’t respond. Her mother thanked him for his help and placed her hand on Sarah’s back, guiding her daughter to the house. Once the screen door was opened, Sarah headed up the stairs to her room.

  “We’re not done yet,” Lucille said, and Sarah immediately stopped her ascension.

  She turned back, fear in her eyes.“I promise I won’t—”

  “Promising isn’t enough,” her mother said. “We have to make sure these crazy ideas aren’t planted in your head again. It’s time we end this.”

  “So, w-what should we do, Mama?” She wished her voice were steadier.

  Her mother huffed. “We need to burn your books.”

  The words started a sickening feeling in Sarah’s stomach.

  Her mother placed her hands on her hips, seeming to stare down at the child even though she was the one elevated on the stairs.

  “Please, Mama—”

  “Every book.” Her voice was humorless. “This stops now. If you don’t do it, I will.”

  “Mama, I—”

  “Sarafina, I said now!” Her voice echoed through the house like a storm. Sarah shivered. She’d never seen her mother so upset before. She stumbled up the stairs and into her room where she gathered all her books in a bed sheet and brought them down to the kitchen. Her mother already had the oven filled with flames.

  Lucille snatched the makeshift trash bag from Sarah and tossed it open on the floor.

  “No more mystery!” she screamed and tossed a book into the flames.

  “No more fantasy!” Another book curled into ashes followed by another and then another...

  “No more adventure!” The final book landed in the fire. Sarah’s eyes stung from the smoke, but the smoke was not the reason for her tears.

  Her mother turned back to her. Her face was an angry red; the flames cast a dark shadow on her.