Thursday fragments

Hi everyone, here is a sneak preview of a chapter my current work in progress By Light of the Third Moon. I hope you enjoy.

Molly-Louise

xx

Chapter 18

Bea held the book with the dusky green cover. She ran her fingers over the letters again and felt them tingle. Intrigued, she opened the cover and found what should have been the title page was blank. Very faintly in the corner she could see someone had written their name in ornate script. Bea studied it closely and made out a few letters in ornate script… it definitely looked like it started with an ‘A’, then a ‘v’, followed by ‘a’. In the end, she realised it must be ‘Avalynn’. The name she kept hearing. Bea wrote it down in her journal and moved her lips slightly as she whispered the name – ‘Avalynn’.

She turned over a few more pages and found that the text appeared to have been handwritten in what looked like Welsh. There were lots of ‘y’s and ‘d’s in the words but she didn’t understand any of it. What most intrigued her were the pictures, drawings really. The first was a sketch of five women sitting on the ground around a fire. Their hair was drawn in wild pencil lines but the unmistakable curves of their bodies were sketched with great attention to detail. Their arms were raised above their heads and as she looked at the drawing she could have sworn that she could see them moving up and down and the women appeared to be chanting. Bea could even see the pencil lines glisten with moisture and she could smell the aroma of incense burning on the fire.

She looked further through the book. Every now and then there was a heading and some more writing that she couldn’t understand, but the pictures were so astounding and enticing. Another one showed a young woman tied to the ground, her arms and legs spread like the points of a star. She thought perhaps she was a virgin sacrifice judging by the way she was clothed in white compared with the dark dresses of the other women. But again what caught her eye was the way the woman’s chests seemed to be heaving with their chants.

As she studied the drawing, Bea realised that her own breath was short and laboured. She imagined herself as the young woman in the drawing. Bea began to feel hot and a little lightheaded and found herself wriggling in her bed, trying to find a more comfortable position, trembling now and getting a bit confused. She felt like she was about to faint and her skin was super sensitive, as if she could feel herself being touched by every breath of air in the room.

Bea shook her head to clear those thoughts away. She had to finish her reading first, but images of witches danced across the page and a scent of wild pansies drifted through the air. Bea tried to concentrate but her mind was getting hazy and the images blurred on the page. She felt a strange desire as her eyes remained fixed on the drawing, a pull so strong she could picture herself there, tied on the ground with the women chanting, the aroma of flowers in the summer moonlight filling her lungs, until she could feel herself dissolving, blurring the lines between the girl in bed and the one tied to the ground, until she was no longer sure which one was the real person, the real Bea.

Bea quickly put the book down.

‘I think I need some fresh air,’ she said to herself. She went to walk to the window but as she stood her legs wobbled and she fell back onto the bed. Then the room began to spin wildly and she closed her eyes as she laid her head on the pillow and felt a wave of nausea wash over her body.

When she opened her eyes, Bea found herself tied to the ground and surrounded by five women dressed as witches.

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