The Locket by K J Bell Page A

find Brent, and force him to explain himself.
    Finally deciding that confronting Brent was a bad idea, I went inside calling for Maggie, and then I remembered her note said she would be home late. The house seemed so empty and was eerily quiet. Setting my bag down in the hall, I strolled into the kitchen for a snack. Wind rushed across my face sending chills down my spine. The quiet in the house combined with the soft breeze was alarming. Figuring Maggie must have left the windows open, I went to close them, but they were latched shut. I got a sick feeling in my gut, today’s lunch churning. I was being watched. I felt it again, just as I had on the drive to school yesterday.
    Rays of light looking like bright iridescent strings appeared around me like a prism, encapsulating my body. I was frozen, unable to move my limbs, looking like a scarecrow in the middle of my aunt’s kitchen. The strings were terrifying, yet completely mesmerizing at the same time. They were beautiful. It was the same type of hypnosis I got from lying in front of the fire place watching the magenta and orange flames dance around gracefully.
    My mind started swirling as visions of my life in chronological order moved through my brain like an old fashioned movie strip. I felt each emotion attaching to a memory and it was too much to take. I tried to focus my thoughts, pushing hard towards the word stop, empowering my body to push away the strings. A crystal bubble appeared as though I willed it to and stretched out around me. The moving picture in my head ceased and I saw the strings trying to penetrate the glass encasement unsuccessfully. It took all of my fortitude to keep the bubble around me. My breathing was ragged and I felt moisture on my top lip just as a drop of blood fell from my nose to the floor. The windows rattled and I heard a noise from the living room. The door slammed shut. I tried to yell for help, but shook wordlessly.
    “Claire!” Brent called frantically. I still couldn’t find my voice as though my vocal cords had been knotted together, restricting all vibration needed for sound.
    Brent entered the kitchen and I saw the look of astonishment on his face, giving way to horror, but only briefly. His expression transitioned to someone in control – the ring leader in a circus prepared to make the lions succumb to his whims. He reached a hand out in front of him and inhaled sharply, drawing the strings into his hand, absorbing them until they disappeared into his skin. I collapsed in exhaustion and the bubble vanished.
    Brent’s strong arms were under me just before I reached the floor. He brushed my hair from my face and pulled a dish towel from the stove wiping the blood gently from below my nose.
    “Claire, are you okay, can you talk?” he asked, appearing distraught. I was still too weak for words. Feeling safe in his arms, I buried my head in his chest.
    Lifting my head from his chest, I thought I was in shock. Brent put his hands on both sides of my face, applying pressure on my cheeks so I had no choice but to look at him. Staring into his eyes, my body finally began to relax.
    “Are you okay?” he asked again, softly this time, keeping his hands on my face, his blue irises burning into me. We were so close that our noses practically touched and I felt his breath on my skin.
    “I’m fine,” I whispered calmly.
    Waiting for him to release me, I rummaged for answers in his eyes as they assessed me carefully. He licked his lips. My desire to have him was too powerful to ignore a second longer. I put my mouth on his, begging for entry. The moment my lips met his, I belonged to him. His lips were soft and warm. Wrapping my fingers through his hair, I pulled his face closer pleading for him to kiss me back. He hesitated at first, but then complied, his lips parting. Our tongues swept against each other’s. My body was on fire, like a charge of electricity moving through me just below the skin. I had never kissed a boy