Category Archives: Sci-Fi

Chronicles of the HEdge

Sci-Fi

Approaching the eve of the third millennium, there was great anticipation for the future of mankind. Optimism flourished, humanity teetered on the edge of the old order, ready to explode into the new. Slowly, however, the darker side of human nature once again manifested itself. The quest for power became paramount to all else; teritorial politics and class battles became the cry of the day. Dreams of the perfect world began to fade.

These struggles saw many groups fall from the political landscape. As with the early Church, those professing a Christian faith became outcasts. Under heavy persecution, they were forced to practice their faith in secret underground enclaves. Their persecutors were determined to finish the Christian genocide that had begun over two thousand years ago. In spite of the ever-looming threat of capture, a brave band of evangelists join forces to preach the Gospel to a hostile world. John Rex, one of the leaders of this underground network, is the focus of HEdge’s search-and-destroy mission.

Mercilessly hunting down his prey, Roderick Banchard is just as devoted to his evil campaign as the Christians are to their evangelistic cause. Disaster, cleverly contrived by Banchard and his HEdge soldiers, strike the Christians at every turn. Good and evil clash, and Rex’s mission is nearly crushed as he is forced to make a seemingly hopeless choice.

With everything at stake, the world watches as one man, forced to choose between two loves, is thrust center-stage in a global confrontation. Ultimately, the inhabitants of Earth are issued a warning they must heed before it’s too late.

What did KNDU187 want from the people on earth? Fiction? Or is it?

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Our sun provides the heat and light we need to survive. The life of the sun seems almost infinite; however, what would happen to us if it only had less than three months before exploding?
Dr. John White, a scientist who defected to NKRA as an accused traitor of the USAA, and KNDU187
made an effort to stabilize the sun. What did KNDU187 want from the people on earth? Why did
Dr. White defect? Did our president betray us and only care for his family? What KNDU187 has to say?

In January 2008, a NASA SSRC 1-2008 press release reported possible sun problems that could result in human race
starvation. http://www.spaceandscience.net/id16.html. 

I will answer any of your questions.

Thanks. KNDU187

TRULY SHOCKING photo

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I have recently been working toward my certification as a Paranormal Investigator and have been studying how to analyze suspected paranormal photographs. The study got me to remembering and thinking about probably the most incredible paranormal photo I have ever seen.

When I was around the age of 12-13…some 30 odd years ago…my interest in the paranormal was just beginning in earnest. Anything that was unusual began to interest and even fascinate me. The Bermuda Triangle, UFO’s, hauntings, anything along that line. My father had told me many “Ghost Stories” that had been passed down in his family and held as absolute fact, but he himself was somewhat of a skeptic of such things. Since I had developed such as strong interest in the subjects he tried to help me in my pursuit though.

A photo from a friend of his that he saw one day was to challenge his skepticism and leave an impression in my mind that would last to this day.

I remember my father coming home from work that day and telling me that he had something for me to see. He seemed very excited and perplexed at the same time. One of his longtime friends had taken a photo a few days prior and trusted in my father to look at it and tell him what he thought. As I remember my fathers friend was somewhat of a skeptic himself, but was very perplexed, to say the least, by the photo he had taken. My father asked his friend if he could bring the photo home to show it to me since I had a great interest in things like that. My father’s friend didn’t want to but reluctantly agreed. You must remember that this was 30 odd years ago and many of that time felt that to believe in the paranormal meant you were “crazy”. Even though the friend had taken the picture and seen it with his own eyes he didn’t want to be labeled “crazy” I imagine.

My father handed me the photo without telling me anything about it and asked me to tell him what I saw. My mother also looked at the photo with me. I remember we got a slightly uneasy feeling about the photo from the first we saw it for some reason. As I looked at the photo I could very clearly see 4 ghostly forms beside of a fence. Gaseous in some places and almost solid in others. One was a very tall and large standing form that judging by the fence post behind appeared to be 7 foot tall or taller, with a look, posture and hand position of an authority figure of some type. The three others were much smaller and were sitting on the ground in front of this figure. I remember that one of the smaller ones was sitting with outstretched legs crossed at the ankles. The faces of 2 of the sitting figures could not be seen as they were turned toward the standing figure, but the standing figures face and one of the sitting ones face( which appeared to be looking at the camera) could be made out fairly well. We all agreed that what it looked like to us was a scene of a teacher, preacher, or storyteller of some type talking to a group of 3 “children”. Past the point of the basic photo a chilling detail came to light. It seemed to my mother and I that the tall figure had horns of some type on its head and as I looked closer I noticed that one of the smaller forms did as well. When we told my father this he said that he and his friend had came to the same conclusion, but that he didn’t want to tell us and wanted to see if we came to the same conclusion. We had.

My father then truly shocked us both when he told us that the photo had been a photo of his friend’s new boat that he had recently bought. His friend had aimed the camera at his boat (which was sitting on a trailer next to the fence) and taken 2 self-developing photos. One of the photos showed the boat and the other had shown what we were looking at. The boat had disappeared completely to be replaced by the 4 figures.

The photo was taken back to the friend the next day and I haven’t seen it since. I have often wished that I would have gotten a copy of the photo, but since computers and scanners were most definitely not household items 30 years ago, I unfortunately didn’t get a copy. The friend wanted to forget that anything had taken place so my father did not ask him for a copy or press the matter any further.

I have seen 100’s or maybe even 1000’s of photos suspected of being paranormal in the time since that day, but of the ones I feel are real and not faked I have not seen any to top this one as to its graphicness and unusual content

When you add the facts together that my father had known this man for many years as honest and not someone who would try a hoax. The fact that self developing photos are hard…if not impossible…to alter. The fact that he didn’t even want people to know about the photo. And that he didn’t have access to computer photo altering programs like we have today. I feel it was completely real and chillingly genuine. What was depicted in the photo is completely up to theory but it is definitely one of if not the best examples of paranormal photography I will ever see.

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copyright 2008 Donald Ryles

To read more about Dr. Ryles and his life and to read about : Hidden Secrets of Many, But One… a very true and most unusual book of spirits, ghosts, haunting, and 9-11 being encoded 4 years before it happened, go to : www.drryles.com

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The Phantom Dog and Horse

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Below is a short story that does not appear in my book Hidden Secrets of “Many, But One”( A true book of ghosts, haunting, paranormal contacts and encoded messages of 9-11 written and copyrighted before 9-11) . It is true and one of the truly milder paranormal events that took place in my childhood. Please see more of the book at www.drryles.com

The Phantom Dog and Horse

By

Donald Ryles PhD, CH

Growing up in the South U.S. 30+ years ago I, like most all kids of that time and place, had a swing in the yard. The one I had was not a metal swingset, but was a true old rope swing hung from a tree branch.
I spent a lot of time playing on that old swing and in the field behind our house which had once been a horse pasture many years before we had moved there.
When I was about 11 years old I had just discovered my love for music and since it was Summer and I didn’t have to get up for school I was allowed to stay out until well after dark, as long as I stayed close to the house. Many nights I would be on that swing until well into the night listening to my small transistor radio, as long as I kept it low. It was just me, the music, and a soft light from a distant streetlight.
One night about 10 PM I suddenly had the strange feeling that something was behind me looking at me. Staring at me. I stopped swinging and looked back to see a beautiful large white dog with big dark eyes. He just stood motionless, no barking, no growling, no tail wagging, just strangely motionless. Not having a dog at that time but always having a love for dogs I wanted to pet him. I turned around for only a second to get up and when I looked back he had vanished . I didn’t hear him leave, but I thought he must have ran away. I didn’t think much about it and went back to swinging.
The very next night, at about 10 PM, he appeared again. This time though it sounded like he had ran up behind me quickly. I looked back and once again saw him just as before motionless looking at me with his big dark eyes. This time for some reason I had a slightly different feeling than before. I still wanted to pet him but for some reason at the same time felt slightly uncomfortable. Like for some unknown reason something wasn’t quite right. I slowly got up to walk to him and he ran behind my fathers car and into the field behind our house. I was only a few feet away from him but when I got behind the car once again it was as if he just vanished.
The third and last time he appeared was about a day or 2 later. He appeared just as before , but this time with a chilling difference. Once again it sounded like he had ran up behind me and once again I turned to see him looking at me . This time though I could see smoke coming out of his mouth and nose. The kind you see when it is a very cold Winters day and you breath outside. It was Summer though and by far too hot for that. His big dark eyes locked with mine as he stared directly at me and raggedly breathed the smoke for 10-15 seconds, like he had been running hard.Suddenly he turned and ran into the field. I did not try to follow him this night into the darkness . It was as if something told me not to. I quickly got up and went into the house for the night.
I never saw him again after that night and never saw him in the neighborhood, which I knew quite well. Especially which neighbors had dogs. I was a little scared and puzzled, but being a kid quickly forgot about it.
I didn’t think of it again until what happened with my father a few years later.
It was a Summer evening just before Sunset when my father looked out his bedroom window and came running through the house yelling to me to come and help him. I asked what was wrong and he said there was a horse in the field behind our house and he needed me to help him catch it or make it leave before it destroyed his garden. We both ran outside and into the field to see nothing wrong. No horse and everything was normal. I asked him exactly what he had seen and he said he had seen a huge white horse running through the field as fast as he could, like he was scared. He said the horse had ran through his garden 2-3 times and he was sure it had been completely trampled .
We looked at the small garden, which was in the corner of the field ,beside the old pasture fence . Tomatoes, cucumbers, Bell peppers, etc. about a 15 by 15 foot area. Nothing was out of place. I asked him once again if he was sure the horse had ran through the garden and he assured me that he had. He had ” Ran through it 2 or 3 times in a panic” he repeated to me again . We both looked even closer around the pasture and at the dirt in the garden, which was still soft from being watered only a few hours before, and couldn’t even see a single hoof print or any sign that anything had been in the pasture at all.
As we stood there, both puzzled, I remembered about the big white dog I had seen a few years before that had ran into the same field and I told my father the story of what I had seen and felt myself a few Summers before.

Copyright 2005 Donald Ryles PhD, Ch

Magical Love – 7th Place Runner Up Winner published in Joyous Publishings' Internationally Yours – Prize Winning Stories

Sci-Fi

It was really quite implausible the things he said, “Me, believe in ghosts? Really! You expect me to believe that hundred-year-old house is haunted…honestly!”
I felt about ready to explode in argument, but I loved him and his derogatory disposition. Slamming the car door I said, “We wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t seen what I saw yesterday in the window, so quit giving me grief about it!”
I knew if I was to write the world’s most riveting mystery, I needed hands-on experience to flesh out my characters, and that old haunted house was going to be my research do or die. I didn’t really want to stay overnight, but I needed ideas, even if it made my skin crawl.
“I have no desire to sleep on a cold floor or dusty, old broken down bed so you can write your novel!” he argued with a snobbish air about him.
Warlock had no backbone when it came to supernatural beings, and if he did, no one ever saw it, least of all not me, and I was married to him. He was a highly educated wizard who most would say had a cold disposition and cold eyes. However, I saw compassion in his eyes every time he looked at me, and a desperate need for understanding. I melted every time I locked eyes with him…he was my true love, but so was my writing.
The blustery wind sifted his raven hair and his eyes glinted, portraying a man who had absolutely no interest whatsoever in being proven wrong. He turned on his heel and stood waiting for me with his black robes swishing about him. I stared at him reproachfully, hoping to change his ingenious mind, but he motioned for me to follow him. How could he expect me to ignore my creative side, the one side of me no one could ever understand and probably never will?
“Are you coming?” he asked, holding his hand out.
“No,” I answered curtly, stepping towards the decrepit, gothic door. I felt guilty knowing I disrespected my love’s wishes, but I had an extraordinary thirst for experiencing new things to broaden my writing.
“Come back here! There’s no reason for you to risk your life in that ol’ broken down excuse for a house!”
I fought myself to not retreat and headed towards the house with my writing tools in hand. He sprinted after me to catch up, grabbed me by the arm, not viciously mind you, but strong enough to stop me in my tracks. I withdrew my arm knowing he had reason to worry, but I was adamant about my intensions.
“If you truly loved me, you’d stay with me!” I cried, stepping away from him.
“Don’t give me that ‘if you love me dung’!” he said hotly, as he followed me to the old stone porch. “You know damn well I do! But this is just preposterous to chance!”
I stormed up the steps, my white cloak swirling about me as I faced him, “Warlock, you knew I was a writer when we married. You know I love you with every grain of my existence. All I’m asking is that you please stay — I need you!”
He stared at me in contemplation. I could never read his thoughts, although I was quite certain he could read mine. Perhaps it was beneath him to subject himself to a house that creaked, had broken windows, and torn screens. Perhaps the structure of the house was unsafe, what with its rickety wood siding and missing stone steps. Nevertheless, I furrowed my brow and waited for his answer in optimistic hope.
“I have, and always will support your writing career,” he argued. “However, this obsessive need of yours to have hands-on experience is simply unscrupulous! You don’t need to risk your life for ideas!” The concern in his voice was genuine — the deepness of his love for me glinted in his eyes, but I couldn’t give in to him.
“I’ve always given you the best of myself, why can’t you stand behind me on this?”
“Please reconsider this…” He begged with what was left of his dignity.
“I love you, but I have to do this with or without you.” I kissed him with intense passion then turned on my heel to enter the deserted house. He stood watching me, shaking his head in defeated disappointment.
Silk cobwebs decorated the walls, the disintegrating mantle over the fireplace sustained half-burned candles in an antique candelabrum, and firewood lay for want on the hearth along with a half-empty matchbox.
I laid my writing tools down as I drank in the antique setting, cleared away the cobwebs from the wood logs, kindling and opening of the fireplace, and struck a match several times until finally on the third match, flames burst from its tip.
Shadows appeared on the reading room walls and thick spiders scurried towards the floorboards, hiding in the shadows as I entered the room open mouthed. Books filled the floor to ceiling shelves and white sheets lay over outdated furniture.
I stared out the broken window into the moonlit sky, compiling my thoughts. Suddenly, the creaking floorboards in the foyer broke my concentration. My eyes widened as I sat fearful of making any noise. My heart hammered hard against my ribs as the footsteps fell closer and closer.
I covered my mouth, minding my breathing. Warlock was right about one thing, I had imagination, and at that precise moment, it was working quite well in overtime. I quietly gathered my writing tools and stood up to tentatively tiptoe out of the reading room to find Warlock. Suddenly, something laid a hand on my shoulder.
“AAAHHH!” screaming, I dropped everything in my hands to the floor.
“Sorry…seen enough?” said a man’s silky voice.
“Warlock!” I said in surprised relief. “Thank Heaven it’s you.”
“I came to persuade you to come home one last time,” he answered.
I remained unyielding in my decision, whether I was afraid or not, my thoughts of creativity glued me to the old house, if only to finish feeding my muse.
“I can’t… not just yet…” I said picking up my writing tools.
He looked up in annoyance at the ceiling; he was not at all pleased with my answer.
“Please…don’t go…” I pleaded in a loving tone, my hands on his chest. “Let me wander through the house and soak in its atmosphere for a spell.” I placed one hand behind my back and crossed my fingers, hoping I persuaded him.
He said nothing, but pulled out his wand.
I furrowed my eyebrow with my curiosity peaked. “Does this mean you’ll stay with me?”
Warlock tapped his wand in his left hand and nodded. He stepped closer to me, pulled me into a close embracement, caressed my red hair and kissed me, “I don’t care for such a filthy place…it is simply beneath my expectations. However…I shall stay with you. Please do hurry up with your creativity so we may go home.”
I smiled at him, seized my paper, quill and ink, and we headed out of the study, into the hallway and up the rickety stairwell of oak, his wand illuminating the way.
On the top landing of the stairs, a little transparent boy in medieval attire, olive colored breeches, knee length, and tunic to match, sat crying. I approached him with care, trying not to startle him.
He looked up at Warlock and me, then scuttled backwards, shaking his head and screaming, “No, No, go away! I’ll be a good little boy! I promise!”
I knelt down to his level and said compassionately, “We’re not here to harm you.”
He looked up alarmed at Warlock still holding his wand.
I turned and covered his hand, pushing the wand down. I then turned to face the little ghost and said, “He will not harm you either. He’s with me to keep me company.”
“Who are you?” he cried. “What d’you want?” He backed himself up into the wall, sticking half way out. Two tear-flooded eyes and a whimpering little smile stared back at us in utter terror.
“My name is Wendelyn, I’m an author.”
“Who’s he?” pointed the little ghost.
“He’s my husband, you needn’t be afraid,” I answered in a gentle manner. “Why are you here, what happened to you?”
“I was left here by a bad man; he had eyes of the devil!” wailed the little ghost.
“He stole my parents! I want Mama and Papa!”
“What’s your name?” I asked, wiping a runaway tear from my cheek with my sleeve. My heart went out to him.
“Joseph… Joseph Fiddleton,” he said fidgeting and trembling. “Do you know where the bad man took Mama and Papa?”
“Sorry…no,” I answered. “Joseph, how long have you been here?” I asked, wanting to know if he understood that he wasn’t of this world.
“I don’t know how to tell time, but it’s been long enough!” he cried.
Just as I suspected, he had no understanding that he was a ghost. I had to tell him, but how to go about it was what worried me. I had to find the words simple and gentle enough to make him understand, without giving him reason to run away.
“Perhaps, I should talk to him,” suggested Warlock.
I could tell by the sympathetic, creased up look on his face, he felt sorry for the little ghost.
“I thought you said, (I motioned to Joseph) that you don’t believe in them?”
“I’ve changed my mind,” he said. “Joseph, there simply is no easy way to tell you this…” Warlock knelt down on one knee, “…as you said, your mother and father were taken by this bad man, several years ago. You, my friend… are not of this world anymore…. You belong with the angels.”
“I DON’T BELIEVE YOU!” he wailed. “YOU LIE! THEY’RE COM’N BACK FOR ME!” He pulled himself from out of the wall and became fully visible as tears furiously flooded his eyes. He tried to kick Warlock for saying he was an orphan, but Warlock fell backwards to avoid his hysterical outburst. Joseph ran down the stairs and added, “And I’m not a ghost! Don’t think I don’t understand your fancy words!”
Warlock looked at me, and I, at him. Joseph was not taking the news well at all. We both got to our feet and followed him through the house until we came upon a corner in the common room where Joseph curled up crying. I moved stacks of books and boxes out of the way to talk with him.
“It’s not true … it can’t be….” he sobbed.
His sobbing made me feel as though we had intruded upon his home. I walked up to him and knelt down a few feet away.
“Joseph… if you want to see your mama and papa again, you must listen to me.”
“Why should I?” he cried, clamping his arms around his legs. “Go away you liar!”
Ignoring his harsh words, I gently said, “Go to the light.”
He looked at me through tears with puzzlement emerging on his young face.
“What did you say?”
It was as though I had said something familiar to him.
“Go to the light… it’s all right,” I said gesturing for him to take leave. “That is where you will find your mama and papa, I am most certain of it.”
“I’ve heard those words before…” he said, wiping his tears. “What do they mean?”
“Do you see a light shining anywhere around you right now?”
“I hear voices… and there’s a light com’n through, over there!” he said pointing to the front door, which strangely enough had disappeared and resembled the inky-black, starlit sky.
“You must go to that light… your parents are calling you.”
“I’m too afraid, what if it’s a trick of the bad man who took them away?” he cried.
“Joseph, I hear the same voices you hear, it’s a woman and man’s voice. It’s safe to go towards the light, I promise.” At first, I thought I had said something I made up to convince him — then I heard echoing voices. Warlock stood open mouthed, he was in awe of what he was hearing and seeing.
Joseph got to his feet and ran towards the light with widened eyes.
“Mama!” he exclaimed, “Papa!” Glistening stars and a brilliant light swallowed him, leaving Warlock and me in darkness. Suddenly I could hear a child’s happy cry… then a man and a woman’s happy cry… Joseph had found his parents.
Warlock stepped closer to me and stood by my side as we watched the three ghosts of medieval attire turn to wave good-bye.
“Thank you for helping our son!” cried Joseph’s mother with tears of happiness flooding her eyes. “God Bless you!” They turned and sauntered off into the glistening light.
“Now do you believe in ghosts?” I asked Warlock, crossing my arms. Having proved my point, I knew by the half grin he gave me, he wasn’t about to admit he had just witnessed three ghosts reuniting and heading off to heaven. He said nothing as we gathered my things and headed towards the car.
“Oh come now, Warlock,” I said after a short, silent walk to the car. “It wasn’t so horrible after all… was it?”
Warlock simply looked at me as if annoyed. He seemed to be under the assumption I was about to say, I-told-you-so, and turned the other way hoping to avoid hearing me say it. We both got into the car and then he let out a long sigh.
“I suppose you were right in saying the house was indeed haunted…” he said wearily. “Suffice it to say, after what we’ve just been privy too, the house is now free of ghosts… and should you feel the need for more inspiration, I fancy you have learned your lesson about staying in such deplorable conditions. I won’t apologize for wanting to keep you safe, so don’t expect it.”
I couldn’t help but smile.
“Yes my love… I can honestly say my having the need for inspiration from such places, will be left to my imagination, or in reading other books.”
Warlock turned the key in the ignition.
“Nevertheless, I fear my pride to be shattered in having to apologize for not believing you, and even more so, for admitting I’ve seen an apparition of some sort. Some things are best left unsaid.”
“Yes love, I agree.”
However, I’ve never been one to be so formidably inconsiderate and vain that I refuse to admit when I’m wrong. That being said, I feel that it only proper of me to say—” He paused for a moment and raised his eyes as though getting the words out was quite difficult.
I busily tucked away my things in my knapsack, trying to avert eye contact and making him more uncomfortable in his admittance than he already was.
“You what love?” I pretended to ask absentmindedly, as I tightened the cap of my ink bottle. It was quite obvious we both knew he was trying to apologize.
“I… I apologize… there I’ve said it.” He turned the heater on seeing that it had been a few moments of warming the car engine.
What came over me next, I can not explain. The only way I can describe such a feeling, would be to say that it felt as though I was dipped in a cauldron of love potion, (although, I really hadn’t the need for it in the first place) one that was permanently seeping into my skin and throughout my body. My love for him grew to new depths that night. For the first time in our relationship as wizard and wife, he apologized. I laid my bag down, reached over and pulled his lips to mine.
After an intensely passionate kiss I simply said with fire in my eyes, “I love you…”
Warlock cleared his throat and put the car in gear.
“We better head home,” He said, flooring the gas peddle, leaving the once haunted house in a trail of dust. And that night… well… you’re the reader… I’ll leave that part to your imagination.
From that day forward, my husband has never doubted me again. At least, as far as I know, he hasn’t. As for me, I’m in the process of writing the world’s most riveting mystery about a little ghost.

Excerpt from second book in the series: Amber Shadows and the Crystal Locket

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Foreword

“She’s living the life of an ordinary fourteen-year-old!” was not what many would say, or even think of saying in passing conversation about Amber Shadows. For you see she was an extraordinary White Magic witch-in-training. Flowing, dark red hair caressed her oval face, her eyes of emerald enchanted those curious about her, and one ruby stud earring in her left ear was never taken out while a chandelier earring dangled from her right. And while she often wondered what it would have been like to experience school dances or un-chaperoned parties, she remained exclusively interested in reading about the unknown and things that she could do magically by experimenting. Above all, journeying beyond her imagination to fantastical places while reading her treasured, fictional books was something she held close to heart.

It was Amber’s fondness for the written word that drove her to writing her unusual experiences in a leather-bound journal. And just as Jocelyn’s journals, this was no ordinary journal Amber kept: faerie wings of rich crimson and emerald hues adorned its front cover; silvery glitter etched her name on the back of the book in a medieval font, and inside were pages filled with sketches and her thoughts. There was only one thing that made this journal different from others (including Jocelyn’s) . . . the pages were enchanted with an invisibility charm.

As soon as Amber was done writing her entries, the ink would instantly dry and disappear upon her closing the book. Anyone trying to read her diary would find empty pages and be naïve to the fact that Amber placed an invisibility charm on its contents that only she could release and seal with a wave of her hand.

Unlike most other households, the Shadows family did not own a telephone and they watched very little television on a small, black and white T.V set.

Owing to the fact that the Shadows did not communicate by telephone, when it came time to send messages the Shadows family used Zappy, the family tabby. He was quite exceptional in that he could transpose into wizard form when need be, and could appear and disappear as he pleased by vapor. This ability made his journeys quite easy when Amber sent him with messages to Marianna Wentworth or Jasper Silverton; her two best friends since the age of five.

Amber, Marianna, and Jasper were as close as three mates could be and were now starting their eighth grade school year. From time to time, several classmates from Candlebury Junior High stared at them as they passed by and made obnoxious wisecracks to whoever was standing in listening range:

“Isn’t it strange how Shadows, Wentworth, and Silverton never attend school functions on the weekends?” a black haired boy with eyes of coal said sarcastically.

Others nodded, pointed, and laughed while the leader of the cheerleading group smirked in reply, “Yeah, they never go out of their way to initiate conversation or make friends either . . . strange is what they are; those three.”

Even though these rude comments happened nearly every day, they got under Jasper’s skin and made Marianna throw daggering glares and think nasty thoughts. Amber learned to brush them off by simply rolling her eyes. And although she grew tiresome of the same routine, she’d pull Jasper and Marianna along; reminding them for the umpteenth time, “Ignore them . . . what goes around comes around. Obviously they have nothing better to do with their time.”

Although this advice took several days for Marianna and Jasper to grasp and practice, they managed to grow thick skin and ignore their ill-mannered classmates, thinking of them as nothing more than sour, outdated milk. When it appeared no one could get a rise out of the three mates, those hanging around the school courtyard stopped staring and whispering unfound rumors.

As school progressed through September, all three mates kept their noses happily buried in some type of Advanced White Magic book (hidden by their text books of course). They ate and studied away from everyone else so that they could chat about anything unusual happening in the Magian world, and after dinner each night, they practiced their Magia Sessions homework: White Magic Spells and Healing Potions.

Of the three, Amber had an unbelievable quirk of craving and memorizing knowledge of magical spells right from the off, a curious nature to extensively study the unknown, and a raw talent for using her endowment of White Magic when needed without referencing her text books.