By the way, when I am referring to Warthog, I’m talking about the car I acquired a few months ago. I finally managed to save up enough money to buy this old AMC Eagle that belonged to Petronella, a longtime acquaintance of my grandmother’s. Petronella is the fussy type that takes meticulous care of everything she owns, so the car is in great shape considering that it’s over twenty five years old. I call it Warthog because it’s butt ugly and the exterior is a lovely brownish gray, the color of a warthog. That’s what they should’ve called this car when it first came out, the AMC Warthog.
I blast the music and start humming to the song. That always gets my blood moving. As I take a left onto Locust Street, WHAM! I slam on the brakes because a girl is RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY CAR! Where did she come from? I look around and can’t see where she went. Is she for real, or did I imagine her? She just seemed to melt into the mist.
I finally shrug and start taking my foot off the brakes when I hear a light tapping on the passenger window. I look over, and there she is. For an instant I feel like screaming, but I don’t. I simply gape at her, for I know her. She is Mercy, my closest, most dear friend and there she is, staring at me with such love and concern, and something else. It is brief, but I catch it, a look of panic and desperation. The sight of her makes my heart ache so I reach over to try and touch her. The minute I do she disappears.
Shaking, I quickly pull Warthog over. This is soooo weird. What is going on? There’s no way that could’ve been Mercy because she died almost two years ago! My mind is playing tricks. First I see her in the dream and then she appears in front of my car. Is her spirit trying to tell me something? How is that possible?
Besides, what would she want to tell me? Everything’s been fine around here since Mercy died in the terrible battle between the luminars (the good ones) and the diaboles (the evil ones). Of course, I miss her terribly. Sometimes I forget that she’s gone and I think I see her, walking in front of me in school, or at the mall, but then, that person would turn around and of course it’s not her. Someone’s just wearing one of those long hippie skirts or a crazy hat like Mercy would’ve worn.
I’ll be eternally grateful to Mercy because she was the one who helped me when the crap hit the fan after I moved to Connecticut two years ago. There were kids in town trying to hurt me (or worse). At the same time, I started seeing auras and dreaming of future events among other weird things. It was all so frightening because I was clueless about what was happening. Mercy seemed to sense what I was going through at school so she asked her mom, Belinda, to help me out. Belinda ended up performing regression hypnosis on me.
Through the hypnosis, I was taken back to some of my past lives which brought shocking information to light. I discovered that I’ve been a witch for my many past lives, and that I am STILL a witch, a good witch, otherwise known as a luminar. I also discovered that the people who were after me were also witches, the bad ones, known as diaboles. They hated me because of actions I took against them in the past. Unfortunately, bad witches, never forget slights or transgressions from the past; that is, not the past of this life time, but the pasts of many other lifetimes.
In my defense of past actions, I was simply doing what had to be done to defend the luminars. For they were always busy, working to heal the sick, rid the fields of the pestilence, and provide solace to the ill-fated. They never noticed what the diaboles were doing until it was too late. The greedy diaboles spent all their time scheming for more - more money, more things, more power - and it was always to the detriment of others. Abusing their power for personal gain is second nature to them.
And diaboles are an insecure lot, for deep down they know that their selfish ways are wrong, but they cannot help themselves. Their evil natures have evolved over many centuries, so the guilt they once had is squeezed into a tiny hard kernel that’s buried deep within their souls. They are fully aware that the luminars are the only beings on earth who have the power to stop their evil, corrupt ways. Hence, over the centuries we have seen the witch burnings, the witch inquisitions, the witch executions, all brought forth by diaboles against luminars. It is their preemptive strike against any potential interference, real or imagined.
Unfortunately, they will never forget me, for I was the first good witch to bring the luminars together, present them with a plan, and persuade them into striking against the diaboles before their reign of terror against the luminars came to complete fruition. That was the first Karmic Apocalypse of the Wiccans. It was in 1346.
. . . to be continued, 2015
About the Author
Marjorie Weismantel is a high school teacher and mother of three who has enjoyed and valued her many experiences with young adults. While an avid reader of all kinds of books, her favorite genre has been the supernatural, and so, writing a book for young people with a paranormal theme comes naturally to her.
She particularly likes to write about things we might contemplate at odd hours of the night but believe will never actually happen; where the outcomes are slightly askew and don’t fit neatly into a box. Her objective is to create an alternate world that readers desire to visit and stay for a while.
Marjorie enjoys traveling around the U.S. in a motor home, viewing the beauty of nature and our national parks, and visiting the many wonderful historical sites. When not traveling, she resides in Connecticut with her husband, dog, and two cats.
A Girl Beyond (War of the Witches Book 2) Page 35