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Young Adult 1/2 - Les lectures d’Elise Costa

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Young Adult 1/2 - Les lectures d’Elise Costa

* Tous les titres et les liens pour se procurer les livres mmz.li/MUXO7W* Suivez-nous sur FB mmz.li/aeB9v2

Click on the Thumbnail to watch the video
Or visit http://omg-celebrity-gossip.com/young-adult-12-les-lectures-delise-costa-3/

The First Five Minutes of Young Adult (2011)

Started today!!

House of the Winter Moon

By

Sandra Hennig

Copyright 2012

Preface

 Winter 1914

  “A pinch of mandrake, a few grains of salt, a little belladonna and some ruda should do it.” A

voice calmly said as the ingredients were packed tightly into a small cotton sack and bound with

 red twine. Then a smile crept across the sweet cherub face as they began an incantation,

“Tis dark as night, where you will remain, held close to your earthly bonds.  Death will be no

stranger to you, for all eternity Juliet, you will remain.” Then the sack was promptly thrown into

the fireplace where it was rapidly consumed by brilliant orange flames. The spell was cast.

Present Day

  Sydneyquickly looked through the racks of clothing, flipping through each item on the rack as if it were a page in a book. The used clothing store, aptly called, The Second Rack, had a musty smell of old clothing that made her sneeze. She pulled out a long black wool coat from the rack and tried it on. Standing in front of a floor length mirror Sydney turned, first to the left and then to the right, twisting her back trying to see what the coat looked like from the rear.  She took one last look at herself in the mirror, her long dark hair seemed to blend into the dark coat, draining all the color from her face. Too Goth, she thought as she hung the coat up.  From behind her she heard a female voice, “Here try this one on, I think it will suit you better.” The owner of the voice handed her a long green coat.
Sydney took the coat and as she pulled it over her shoulders she thought she saw it sparkle or shimmer, an odd feeling of an electrical shock shot down her spine but she ignored it, just static electricity she thought.  “Perfect,” she said to herself as she viewed herself in the mirror. She turned to thank the lady, but no one was around. 

 Hurriedly she walked up to the checkout counter with the green coat in one hand and her gray pea coat in the other. “Hi, I am going to put this coat on consignment and take this green coat.”  She ripped off the price tag from the green coat and handed it along with her old gray coat to the sales girl. “There is a difference of fifteen dollars,” said the sales girl in an indifferent tone.  Running late, Sydney didn’t have time to haggle over the price. She quickly pulled out the exact change and handed it to her. Putting on the green coat she rushed out the door into the cold winter air.

Chapter 1

  The cityscape was dark with age, small snowflakes whirled around captured by a light wind, people in their drab winter coats hurriedly moved about their business, criss-crossing the old park.  Already a new layer of snow covered the ground which added some fresh life to the old dull buildings and reflected the street lights that were just beginning to glow in the dusk. Among all this activity, the green coat stood out, it was ankle length, had fold back cuffs and a wide lapel. The double-breasted front fit Sydney as if it was custom-made for her, creating an elongated elegant silhouette.  As she hurriedly moved the bottom of the coat flared out, giving her an appearance of floating.  Though this was not the style that a young urbanite might wear, Sydney Lawrence, was quite pleased with the warm purchase.
 Rushing across the park she realized that to spite her best efforts she was going to be late again.  She flipped open her cell phone scrolled through the list of names and hit enter when the name Darcy popped up.
 “Hey…I am running a little late,” Sydney sounding short of breath said.
“Ok… Ok…take it easy…breathe… I will be here wait for you,” he said with a hint of boredom in his voice, he had heard this from her so many times before it was nothing new. In fact he could not remember a time when she was not late.
“Is Bridget there with you?” Sydney asked hopping she would not be the last to arrive.
“No, not yet, but I expect she will be here before you arrive,” he remarked flatly knowing that she was hopping she would not be the last to arrive at the study group.
Darcy had the misfortune of being born to a high school English-teacher mother who loved Jane Austin’s novels and bestowed him with the name of her favorite charter. Unlike his name sake, he was outgoing, relaxed, of medium build with thick sandy blond hair that flopped in his face on occasion.
  Sydney had almost reached the corner coffee shop when she realized that she’d forgotten to put her trigonometry notebook in her bag.  “Damn,” she said out loud to herself. Well, she thought, it’s too late to go back and get it now.  She could envision it just sitting on her desk in her bedroom.  “Damn” she said again.
  Sydney entered the coffee shop with such force that a harsh blast of cold air followed her, drawing complaints from those nearest the door. 
“Hi guys,” she called out as she approached Darcy and Briggetta, Bridget for short, sitting at a small round table in the corner.  She let her leather book bag drop on the floor and pulled her coat off.  Bridget exclaimed, “Cool coat! Where’d you get it?” with a note of envy that only girls have for each other’s objects. 
“Oh…this old thing,” Sydney smile slyly, “The second hand store on fifth street.”
 Bridget reached out and touched the coat’s soft wool fabric, flipping the edge of the material over she looked at the lining, “Hmm… hand stitched, well-made…and very old. Can I try it on?” she asked, suddenly standing.
 “Sure,” replied Sydney, handing her the coat. Bridget taking the coat whirled it around her shoulders and pulling it on. Reaching under her long hair she flipped it out from under the collar, then pulled the coat closed and buttoned it.
 “How’d I look?” she asked twirling around one time.
“Fab, as always….you can’t have my coat,” Sydney quickly commented knowing that would be the next question from her friend. 
Bridget was one of those tall slender natural European blonds which every woman tries to emulate. Every piece of clothing she tried on looked good, but her normal attire was a tee shirt and jeans with boots, accessorized with a few black and silver bracelets on her wrist and a necklace of some sort in the bohemian style with colored stones hanging from a silver chain around her neck.
“Okay, enough chick talk, besides its kind creepy wearing someone else’s clothes.  Maybe they died in them, you don’t know.”  Darcy shuddered for effect and took a sip of coffee.
  Settling down to the task before them, the three opened up their text books. This was their usual weekly study group, and they were supposed to study for their Trigonometry final next week.  All three of them were seniors, ready to graduate with one road block before them, Mr. Anwar Settee, brilliant mathematician, head of the math department and their Trigonometry teacher.  After two hours of studying, memorizing, and twisting her brain around unnatural equations Sydney, feeling her head was about to burst with mathematical problems, stood up and gathered her books and a few notes she had made on scraps of paper.
“Hey guys, I’m going to head home now,” she announced.
“Can’t take it anymore?” joked Darcy looking up at her with a crooked smile. 
“I am not in it for the long haul, too tired,” she said as she started to head towards the door.
Bridget looked up from her notes, “See you tomorrow morning,” she hollered as Sydney stepped out the door.
 Home was thirty minutes across the river by train. Sydney walked through the cold moist evening air to the metro to catch the north-bound train.  Even though there were plenty of people around, standing on the platform always made her nervous. She disliked public transportation, even if it was good for the planet, too many strange looking people hanging around. She looked around; some people hugged the back wall, others stood on the edge of the platform. She was always afraid someone might jump in front of an oncoming train, or maybe someone who was standing behind someone might mug them, or worse yet push them on to the tracks.  She stood looking straight ahead, staring at the art work on the opposite wall.  Out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw a women, a dark shadowy figure to her left. But when she turned to look at her she only saw a couple of men impatiently waiting for the train. She was tired, maybe it was nothing.
Approaching rapidly the north bound train squealed to a halt as it reached the platform, it’s doors hissing like they were exhaling as they opened.  Stepping into the train she quickly glanced around and picked a bright orange seat near the door; this gave her the illusion of being safe.
Lurching forward the train swayed gently side to side as it rapidly gained speed moving down the tracks to its next destination, Sydney looked around the car checking out her traveling companions. In the yellowish light, most of them seemed to be stragglers from rush hour, sitting still listening to their I-pods, or just staring off into space exhausted from the day’s work. Feeling somewhat secure about her fellow commuters, none of them looked like muggers, she gazed out the window watching the dark silhouettes of trees and high rises with the halo of the orange sunset behind them roll by.
The train pulled into the last station on the route with a harsh jerking motion, jarring the standing passengers as they hung on to the metal poles.  Those seated, stood as everyone crowded near the doors ready to disembark the moment the doors flew open. Sydney was one of the first to step out of the train, briskly she walked through the damp cold station, hearing her own footsteps echoing on the cement floor made her jumpy; it reminded her she was alone and vulnerable.  
Exiting the station, she picked up her pace, nervously checking behind her every few minutes.  For a second she thought she saw something or someone, maybe it was nothing, just a shadow, maybe her eyes were playing tricks on her. Picking up her pace she glanced back again, out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw a women in a long dress. Was that the women she had seen earlier on the platform? Strange, she shook it off, it was just her imagination, that’s all, just nothing.  Rabidly she walked three blocks in the chilly air before reaching her street.
At the intersection she stopped looked up the long hill and sighed, home was at the top of that hill.  Soon, she thought, I will have enough money saved to get a car and won’t have to climb the hill.  Breathing hard, she made it to the top of the hill, then she walked down the boxwood lined sidewalk towards a large yellow Victorian-style house which had been custom-built in 1910.
  Not watching her footing as she ascended the front porch, she tripped slightly on the third step, stumbling uncontrollably forward, she reached out for the door jam, and caught herself before falling flat on her face. Taking a deep breath she pulled herself up and inserted the key into the tarnished antique lock. Wiggling it a little twisted the knob she then pushed the front door opened with a stiff jolt.  “Mom the door was stuck again!” she shouted out hoping her mother would hear her. Crossing the narrow foyer, she dragged herself up the stairs to her bedroom.  Dropping her book bag by her desk she hung the green coat on the corner of her closet door. 
  Her room was large, round, with smooth wooden plank flooring and twelve foot ceilings. The walls were painted a light French blue with brown trim around both windows. Sydney felt a surge of pride, the paint choice was hers. It felt so liberating to assert one’s individuality through decorating.  The furnishings were wood, a varied selection. A white desk with a single shelf above it was paired with a wooden chair on wheels. The bed had a fabric head board with a large harlequin pattern of tan and white, to the left of the bed stood a simple pine night stand with a single drawer. On the opposite wall stood a large dark wooden dresser with a mirror above it. Then there were a few posters on the walls typical of any teenage girl. Sydney flopped down on the bed.  Her mother tapped on the open door, “If you’re hungry, there is some barley and mushroom stew in the fridge. I made it fresh tonight.” 
“Thanks mom, stew sounds great,” Sydney fibbed, “But I am not hungry, I got a sandwich during study group.”
“Ok, you know where it is if you want it,” her mother called back to her as she walked down the hall.
Her mother, a diehard vegetarian, cooked only with the best organic produce. Which was fine, but Sydney preferred more flavorful meals. She missed her father’s cooking, the rich sauces, eggs and all forms of meat. Adding to her misery, the kitchen was in the process of being renovated, which did not improve the cooking situation. It was a different story all-together when her father was home; it was always a gastronomic delight. Sydney’s father traveled a lot. His position as a district sales manager for a large pharmaceutical company required him to cover the east coast territory.  When he returned home, there were always new recipes that he enjoyed testing on his family.  He was a certifiable foodie for sure. And the kitchen renovation was his idea.
  Standing Sydney pulled her PJs out from under the pillow and changed into the black tank top and gray jersey bottoms.  Slowly she wandered down the hall to the bathroom, random thoughts darted through her head. Going about her usual nightly routine of washing her face and brushing her teeth, she was thinking about picking up a few more hours at work so she could speed up the saving process towards purchasing her very own car.  She had made up her mind, in the morning she would ask her mother about it in the morning. With that thought, she dropped her toothbrush into the ceramic holder which made a plunk sound and returned to her room.  Climbing into bed, she reached over and set the alarm clock for seven thirty in the morning. Then reach over she turned off the lamp on the bedside table and fell soundly asleep. 
  Around one o’clock in the morning, she awoke to bright moonlight streaming in through the side window. Arrgh, she thought, I forgot to close the curtains.  Trying to ignore the light she closed her eyes but the brightness of the full moon seemed to penetrate her eye lids. Pulling the covers over her face was suffocating, uncomfortable and not an option.  Surrendering, she slowly dragging herself out of bed and staggered towards the window, reaching up she pulled closed the curtains. Stepping back she noticed that a silver sliver of light still streamed into the room like a laser.  Grabbing an unused blanket from the end of her bed she draped it over the curtain rod. That solved the problem, the room was now pitch black.  Slowly she felt her way back to bed, getting in she pulled the covers up under her chin and quietly drifted off to sleep. 
  Odd dark dreams filled her mind, all of them ended with a women in Victorian dress standing over her as she slept looking down at her with piercing eyes.  Sydney awoke several times during the night, sometimes shaking, sometimes dripping in sweat and always afraid of something but she was not sure what.
At precisely seven thirty in the morning, the alarm clock sounded off.  Sydney’s arm automatically reached over and hit the snooze. This was normal, she was not an early riser, and last night she did not sleep well.  Upon the third buzzing of the alarm, Sydney sat up stretched her arms and lazily pulled herself out of bed.  Walking like a sleep walker to her chest of drawers, she removed a pair of jeans from one drawer, undies from another and pulled a v- neck wool sweater from its hanger in the closet.  Then she headed down the hall to the bathroom.
 With one hand she turned on the shower, letting it run until it was just right, not too hot and not too cool.  Stripping her PJs off, she gingerly stepped into the warm shower.  As the water cascaded down her hair onto her back, she reached for the shampoo.  Pouring a large amount into her hand, she started lathering her thick, wavy dark hair. As she piled her hair on top of her head, some of the shampoo dripped into her eyes. The stinging sensation was unbearable, causing her to curse as she blindly tried to reached for a wash cloth. Flaying her hand about in the empty air, it finally landed on a hand towel. Quickly she wiped the stinging substance from her eyes.  Cautiously she leaned her head under the shower, rinsing the shampoo and soap from her body. Stepping from the shower, Sydney dried off and wrapped her long mahogany hair in a towel.  She reached for her jeans, slid them on. Suddenly panic gripped her.  These jeans, she realized, were the ones with a defective clasp. Struggling, she tried to undo the jeans. For a minute she thought, stay calm, I could wear these, they fit well and no one would know they are stuck on me.  Then it occurred to her that she may need to pee at some point in the day. Panicking, she tugged the clasp again thinking, why did I buy these? Who uses claps on jeans anyway! Oh my god, mom has already left for her tennis match. The neighbor, she would have to call the neighbor for help. An image of the old man with pliers trying to pull the clasp open popped into her head. That just doesn’t seem right, she thought, way too embarrassing.  Desperately, she pulled harder. The clasp finally gave way, releasing its grip. Breathing a sigh of relief that she won the battle she threw the jeans to one side. Pulling on a black sweater, she combed her hair and ran down the hall to get another pair of jeans. Sliding on an old gray pair of jeans, she hurriedly grabbed her leather bag and green coat as she bolted down the stairs to the kitchen.  Rapidly she threw together some toast with peanut butter, gulped down some water, then rushed out the door.
In front of the house was a nineteen seventies blue and white Chevrolet Camaro SS, with Bridget behind the wheel.  “Morning,” Bridget called out as Sydney rapidly walked towards the car. Sydney opened the bulky car door and threw her bag in the back seat as she slid into the passenger’s seat.
 “Morning, did you finish chapter ten for Biology?” Sydney asked, covering her mouth as she yawned.
  “Don’t yawn, you’ll make me tired. And yes, I did finish the chapter? The test is going to be tough. Do you want to go to the mall after school?” Bridget finished without taking a breath.  “Can’t,” said Sydney, flipping down the visor and applying her lipstick as she looked in the mirror.  
 “What!”  Bridget exclaimed as she tapped the breaks hard causing the car to jerk, and a pink line of lipstick to skip across Sydney’s face.  
“Bridget!” Sydney snapped.
 “You fall for that every time,” Bridget laughed as Sydney wiped the lipstick from her cheek.
“I can’t go shopping, you know I have my riding lesson this afternoon,” Sydney replied to her question.
 “Yes, but I was hoping you would skip it… come on… it will be fun… besides we can scope out some guys.”
 “Boys, is that all you can think about?” Sydney said sarcastically.
“Yes, yes and yes and so do you! … You can’t tell me you’re not seriously crushing on our friend Darcy……Ooooh, look who’s blushing,” Bridget teased.
 Sydney smiled to herself, “He is cute, isn’t  he.”
 “Yeah, but not my type…too normal looking.”
“Hmmm….that could be good then…I don’t have to worry about competition from you,” Sydney stated flatly as she looked sideways at her friend.
  Sydney leaned forward examining herself again in the mirror, her cobalt blue eyes trimmed with thick black lashes staring back at her as she reapplied her lipstick. She fluffed out her long mahogany tresses that fell down just past her shoulders. Her hair and eyes combined with her olive skin gave her an exotic look; not pretty like a fashion model, but still very attractive.
  Pulling into the school parking lot, Bridget carefully crawled over each and every speed bump so she would not scrape the under carriage of her beloved car. Pulling into a choice parking spot, she carefully angled the car to prevent door dings. Reaching into the back seat they grabbed their back packs and hurried towards the small door on the side of the large brick building. The building’s architecture date it, built in the 1950’s it had large white windows lining the face of it on two levels. The front entrance was typical of that era; white marble steps led up to the portcullis supported by large, round, white columns, beneath them were four sets of metal double doors. 
  Entering the main hallway, Sydney and Bridget maneuvered through groups of students on their way to first period. “Hey guys,” Darcy’s voice caught Sydney’s attention.
 “Hi Darcy,” Sydney smiled coyly as she moved across the hall towards him, followed closely by Bridget.
 “Hi Darcy,” Bridget said in a chipper voice.
 “You guys want to see a movie tonight?” he asked.
 “Can’t, I have a riding lesson,” Sydney replied.
 “I can’t go either, I have to help my mom paint this evening,” Bridget sighed.
 “Ok maybe another time then,” Darcy said as the girls wandered on to their class. “What was that about?” Sydney asked.
 “What?” Bridget replied.
 “What, you know that lame excuse about painting a room.”
 “It’s true, really it is…I do have to help paint.” Bridget said with a smile.
 “Ok, maybe I believe you. So that is why you wanted to go shopping…to ditch painting?” Sydney asked as they entered the classroom and took their usual seats. Bridget nodded, smiling, and simply answered, “Yes.”

The rest of the story can be found on Amazon.com for .99 cents in Kindle format and also in soft back.

http://www.amazon.com/House-Winter-Moon-Malandanti-ebook/dp/B007ZT4AMS