Intrinsical - Lani Woodland [0]
Lani Woodland
INTRINSICAL
Lani Woodland
Pendrell Publishing
Published by Pendrell Publishing Hollywood CA
For information regarding permission, write to: Pendrell Publishing, Attention Permissions Department, P.O. Box 344
Hollywood, CA 90078
Text copyright © 2010 Michele Tolley
Cover Photography © 2010
Sweet Expressions Photography
''Can't Stop Dreaming Of You'' was written by E. Joseph Tolley for exclusive use in Intrinsical
All rights Reserved
Library of Congress Control Number: 2010911650
ISBN-13: 9780982729717
For Mom and Dad
Who taught me that anything was possible if you have enough hope and work hard enough for it.
Prologue
My shadow stretched out in front of me, making my small build and slight frame seem almost tall—willowy even. It had an air of grace about it that I envied, and made me feel more elegant than the boarding school uniform-wearing sixteen year old I was.
The humid summer swelter had not yet surrendered to the much more bearable temperatures of fall. A gust of wind momentarily stirred the air, giving me a respite from the suffocating heat as my shirt billowed out around me. I could feel the sturdy beads of my necklace warm against my skin, reflecting the bright sunlight onto the wall of the campus library in a shower of amber sparkles.
I decided to seek solace from the heat in the shade of a tall tree. Dropping to the well-manicured grass at its base, I slouched against the scratchy bark that pricked my scalp and snared my mocha-colored hair. A lone white cloud hung in the sky, thin and shredded around the edges, losing a battle against the summer’s unyielding heat.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something slide past me. Curious, I turned to find something shimmering in the air, almost like a fine mist—but it was unlike any mist I had ever seen. Instead of a transparent white, it was a deep charcoal gray, almost black. It brought to mind a dark rain cloud, one that promised a terrible storm. The mist radiated coldness. “Cold” wasn’t the right word though. It was . . . chilling, and not the good air-conditioned kind. Its chill ran down my spine and the warm sweat that had beaded on my skin now turned icy.
The fog hung in the air for a moment, its whirling tendrils frothing, churning, and folding in on themselves. I shuddered as the writhing patch of darkness glided a few feet off the ground. It seemed to move with purpose as it swirled around the students who were loitering around campus.
“What is that?” I asked myself, speaking aloud. I blinked and rubbed my eyes, sure I was imagining it. But I wasn’t; it was still there.
My stomach sunk as I watched the fog. It couldn’t be a ghost. Could it? My grandmother’s descriptions of some of the ghosts she had encountered trickled through my mind. But I was different than other women in my family; I couldn’t see them. Had genetics caught up to me at long last?
The mist wound around one student, then another, releasing each before moving on, still searching. Then, abruptly, it paused, circling tightly around a boy with sable brown hair.
His friends surrounded him but no one seemed to notice the blanket of vapor that now enveloped him. Someone must have told a joke, because he threw his head back in a laugh, a sound that rang through the air like a velvety melody. With the speed of a whip slicing through the air, a tendril of darkness slid inside his open mouth. My own mouth went suddenly dry. I felt sick, as if I had swallowed it myself.
The boy’s eyes instantly went wide and his hands went reflexively to his neck. He leaned forward, gasping for air as if the darkness were squeezing his airway shut.
I jumped to my feet and felt myself take a step forward.
Eyes bulging wide, he kept one hand clasped at his throat while his other hand waved desperately in the air, signaling for somebody to step in and help him. “Brent? Brent!” I heard one of his friends shout.
I didn’t even realize my feet were running toward him, pushing authoritatively through the immobile, gaping crowd. One friend pounded