Psyched
Psyched
By Juli Caldwell
Psyched
Kindle Edition
Text copyright 2013
©
Julianne Hiatt Caldwell
All rights reserved
Website and blog:
http://julicaldwell.weebly.com/
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form whatsoever, whether by graphic, visual, electronic, film, microfilm, tape recording, or any other means without prior written permission of the author, except in brief passages embodied in critical reviews and articles.
Book cover design by Silviya Yordanova
http://morteque.deviantart.com/
https://www.facebook.com/MyBeautifulDarkness
The author purchased limited rights to the cover art and is not responsible for any misuse. This image remains the property of Silviya Yordanova.
This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, or events, is entirely coincidental. All characters, places, and events are products of the author’s vivid imagination.
For my girlies: the Caldwell Chix.
Table of Contents
Chapter 5: Cross Country Practice
Chapter 9: A Truth that Can’t Be Told
Chapter 10: The Priest Next Door
Chapter 14: The Old Man with the Lamp
Chapter 16 Calm Before the Storm
Chapter 16 Don’t Trust Your Eyes
Chapter 17 Inside Kalen’s Head
Prologue
Overgrown trees and shrubs guarded an abandoned house, illuminated by faint light from the windows of a small church across the street. The sad remains of a white picket fence lay in a disorganized heap between the dirt and gravel that formed the road’s shoulder and the weeds that killed off the lawn. In the upper windows, tattered red curtains fluttered out shattered windows in the cool night breeze.
A tall, bone thin girl wandered the front yard, looking lost and scared. She wore a filthy nightgown much too small for her lanky frame, covered in caked mud and a hint of soot. The failing braided pigtails on either side of her head hadn’t seen a brush for a long time. Stray, frizzy curls stood on end all over her head. She clutched a well-loved teddy bear in one hand, and with her other she rubbed her eyes fiercely, as if she were ashamed of the tears which stubbornly flowed no matter how hard she tried to stop them. Icy rain fell on her, yet she didn’t feel cold.
A rustling sound caught her attention, and she hurried hopefully to the back yard. A boy dressed in black sat expectantly on the rocks as if waiting for her. She jerked to a halt when she saw him. Clearly he was not who she expected to see. “Who are you?”
He shrugged. “Who are
you
?”
“
I don’t know,” she answered, keeping her chin tucked and her silver green eyes down. “I think I’m lost. But I can’t be lost, because this is my house. I live here.”
The boy smirked. “This trash heap is your house?”
The girl looked down, her brow furrowed. “My family left me .I don’t know where they are.”
“Sure they did,” the boy said. “Families are a lie. You can’t depend on them, ever. They take what they want and leave the rest, so they must not have wanted you. The only thing you can count on is me. You should come with me.”
The girl finally looked up, confused. “My mom said I should never trust strangers.”
“Your mom left you here, lost, scared, and alone. You still want to believe her? I am the only one who can help you, but you have to help me first.”
“How?”
He offered his hand. “Just take it,” he whispered, a glint of red gleaming in his mischievous eyes.
She hesitated for a moment, and then took his outstretched hand.
Just behind the house, several rocks were piled in a messy heap under a hemlock tree whose roots arched up and over the pile. One rock in the center stood out, despite the chill mist which rolled in with the boy. This rock was perfectly round and curiously symmetrical, far too perfect to be natural. When her hand touched his, the pile began to shake. Rocks tumbled to the bottom of the pile, cascading from the small circlet of cement. The edges began to glow red and weep as the cement melted. The center of the circle cracked and fell onto the wet, worm-infested ground. Hot red light pulsated from the opening. Somewhere from deep within the newly exposed chasm, a deep laugh echoed.
“
Venit hora mea
,” the boy growled slowly, in a voice far too deep to belong to him. He began to laugh, his laugh merging with the hideous sound belching from the ground behind them.
A girl with long black curls shot up in bed. She looked around her room, shaking, heart pounding.
It was only a nightmare
, she repeated to herself, but the image of the rocks and the unearthly voice wouldn’t leave her.
Venit hora mea.
She repeated to herself the words she heard in her dream.
My time has come.
Why did she keep having this dream?
Chapter 1: Night Terrors
It was late. She didn’t need to look at her clock to know that, yet again, she stayed up way too late studying. Aisi Turay leaned back from her desk and shoved her text book away. Wearily closing the book, she glanced at the clock. The red numbers glaring back at her stung her tired eyes. She had end of levels tomorrow—well, today now—the last test of her senior year, and she had no doubt that epic failure loomed in her near future. It was already 12:45 a.m., and she needed to be up in six hours if she wanted to catch her bus.
So much for getting a good night’s sleep before the big test
, she thought with a sigh.
She reached for the antique lantern at the edge of her desk, which functioned as both a work station and nightstand in her cramped room. The reflection of her image in the mirror hanging just above her desk caught her eye as she stood and reached for the knob to turn off her lights. She was tall and willowy, with the lean build of a runner. Her perfect black spiral curls cascaded down her back and fell over her shoulders, framing the astonishing, silvery green eyes that popped in her deep brown, heart-shaped face. She sighed, hoping those dark circles under her eyes would go away once testing season finished.
With a twist of the knob that looked like a golden skeleton key, the old knock-off Tiffany lamp clicked and the dancing blue-green shapes on her ceiling disappeared. Stiff from sitting, she stood up and went to her door, nimbly turning her locks in the dark. A latch, a deadbolt, and three chains. She knew them so well, fastened them so often, she didn’t need a light to see what she was doing. She crawled into bed, tired to the bone, and prayed she might actually sleep through the night for once.
Night sounds filtered through the flimsy paneled walls of her family’s dilapidated old farm house, set back from a two-lane highway and hidden among the trees. The full moon cast shadows of leaves swaying on her floor. Her mom snored energetically in the room next door, and her little brother whimpered and sighed deeply in his slumber across the hall. She listened intently, hoping he wouldn’t have night terrors again tonight. All seemed calm. Her last thought before drifting off was a hope that, just this once, she could get some sleep.
The slow turn and creaking slide of the dead bolt on her door woke her two hours later. She pulled the pillow over her head, rolled onto her stomach, and moaned, “Go away!” as she tried to remember the peaceful dream in her mind, now dissipating like mist against a rising sun. The chains on her door forced the dream from her mind as they unlocked themselves one by one. She sat up, thick black curls curtaining her angry face. She stared hard through the dark.
“Not tonight!” she said forcefully. The deadbolts slammed shut and the chains relatched under her fearsome gaze. She watched for a moment to ensure they stayed fastened before she flopped back onto her down pillow, wide awake and furious. The deadbolt rattled. She opened her eyes and focused on her desk, willing it to move. It slid obediently in front of the door, the glass of her lamp tinkling gently as it settled in its new place. Tears of frustration threatened to roll down her cheeks onto her pillow, but she kept them in check.
“I
will
sleep tonight. I
will
sleep tonight,” she whispered to herself. “They can only come to me if I allow them. They can only come if I let them in.” She rolled onto her side, eyes cinched tight, yet she was still aware of how light her room seemed as the moonlight filtered in through the gauzy curtains. She nodded off once more.
An hour later, she again jerked out of her deep slumber. It took her a moment to understand why she wasn’t asleep anymore. She sat up groggily, curls again draped over closed eyes as she shook her head to clear it. Pushing her hair messily out of the way, she glanced at the door and saw all her chains and locks still secure, but her doorknob rattled and the door shook as if someone on the other side tried to force their way in. The desk wobbled uncertainly as something slowly wiggled it away from the door.
“Not tonight!” she shrieked again. “I can’t help you tonight!” She jumped up and stomped to her closet, pulling out every blanket and pillow she had and throwing them onto her bed. She climbed back into her blanket fort, pulling all the pillows over her head and burrowing under the blankets. Only her toes poked out as she curled into a ball, hands over her ears as she repeated, “Not tonight, not tonight, not tonight…” Again she drifted off.
At 4:00 a.m., she shivered awake and reluctantly opened her eyes. Why were all the lights on in her room, and where had all her blankets gone? She rolled over to see the desk moved under her window, her pillows shoved onto the floor, and her blankets were just gone. She flipped over to the other side to look for them when a familiar tingling on the back of her neck told her she had a visitor who was responsible for this. Her blankets lay folded neatly in an impressive pile near her desk, which glowed under the blue-green light of the stained glass peacock lampshade. Between her bed and the desk stood an ethereal, cloudy female form, translucent and shimmering in the blaze of the lamp.
Aisi sat up in bed and reached her arm toward her blankets. The one on top flew toward her, through the flickering figure, and into her arms. Glaring moodily at her uninvited guest, who seemed completely unbothered by the fact that a blanket had just shot through her stomach, Aisi reached down to the floor and grabbed her favorite fuzzy pillow to cover her head. “I need to sleep,” she mumbled. “Come back tomorrow. I can’t help you.”
“Please listen to me!” the figure implored, her hollow voice a mere echo in Aisi’s head. “I’ve been looking for help for so long, and you’re the only one I can find.”
“I have a big test tomorrow and I need to sleep,” Aisi howled. “Go away!”
“I need my mother! Will you help me find my mother? Please, please…” the voice choked back sobs. “I need help.”
Aisi sat up impatiently and glowered at the figure before her. The shadow of a person bore the faintest trace of bobby socks, saddle shoes, and poodle skirt in her translucent, luminous form.
Aisi snorted derisively. “You’re dead, okay? And from the looks of your outfit, I’d say you’ve been gone about sixty years. I would gouge my eyes out before I’d wear something like that.” As she pulled the covers back over her head she muttered, “Come back tomorrow.”
“It took me so long to find you! I
know
you can help me!” the figure shrieked. “You’re the only one who can see me! Please, please, just help me find my mother. I’ve been looking for so long. I miss her. I never thought I would, but I…I need her.” The figure wept, head down, looking more lost and miserable than any apparition Aisi had seen before. Although she kept her head hidden under the blanket, she could clearly see the apparition’s distressed face in her mind’s eye. She felt the fear and misery that engulfed this wandering soul.
