Young Writers Society

 Who knew a haunted library could unravel the secrets to the universe? I definitely didn’t, until one very peculiar weekend… 

Perhaps giving you some context might be helpful. My name is Gemma Hart. It was a normal Saturday in Mahogany... or so I thought. Mahogany is a bit of an odd name considering our town was not known for its trees or wood. This town was not known for anything, really. You see, Mahogany was a very small and quaint neighborhood that no one would expect to have a speck of interesting in it. Not even the locals thought that it was any special. Being one of the locals, I just thought Mahogany was another neighborhood that barely anyone knew existed. That was one of the few things I was so wrong about.

Anyway, on this particular Saturday morning, I was feeling extremely lazy and tired (as is expected from a fourteen year old girl on a Saturday morning), but my best friend Eden was itching to go out somewhere and she had the audacity to drag me along. I groaned as I received a text from her saying that she wanted to “take a stroll” to the neighborhood dollar store.

Knowing Eden, she probably wasn’t actually planning on a peaceful stroll, and was about to pull a terrible twist on me that was most likely going to involve moving a lot. Nevertheless, I couldn’t say no to Eden. She was my best friend, and if I said no she would totally satirize me about being a “lazy butt” (which I am totally NOT) and I would not permit that.

My fingers pranced across the keys on my phone like incredibly fast ballerinas (I don’t know if that’s something to be proud of, but I am) as I texted her my reluctant agreement. I sulkily sat up from my bed. It creaked with every movement I made, like a loud crow was stuck under my bed, wailing in pain.

I hopped of my rackety bed and felt the cold wooden floor through my red Christmas socks. The socks had miniature cartoon Christmas trees that circled around them. It was in the middle of April, but that’s totally beside the point. I waded through mounds and mounds of clothes, books, and whatever that slimy thing was that I stepped on (I honestly don’t want to know what in the world it was, though I had a few guesses).

Finally, I got to my bedroom’s off-white door, a poster of… um… I think it was some kind of singer, was plastered across it. I didn’t know who (or what) was on the poster, it was so worn out and dull, but I just thought it looked cool. The door slowly swung open and whined as it did, as if to say “Don’t go Gemma!” I wish I listened to its wise words, but instead, I made my way out the door slowly. When I made it to the front door of my house, my mom’s voice echoed into my ears not too far away.

“Gemma! Where are you going?” She interrogated me from somewhere in the house, her tone steely and austere.

“Eden and I are going to the dollar store.” I replied with more or less enthusiasm than a slug who was sitting in the sun too long and became reduced to a dry raisin.

My mom didn’t respond, nor did I expect her to. I was surprised she even cared where I was going. I slipped on my favorite –once white but now tinged in mud brown- converse and wandered across our front yard. I could smell the fresh morning dew on the grass, and could see it shimmering, reflecting the vibrant rays of sun. It was like looking at stars on a green sky. The fresh morning breeze welcomed me and combed back my long wavy auburn hair. The sun was already wide awake, trying it’s best to burn my eyes out and dry the splotches of water spread across the road and sidewalk until they were just drops of fallen rain, sizzling away.

The ding-ding of a bike bell shattered my intake of the morning nature. A girl riding on a cyan cruiser sped up to me. Her hair was as dark as the blackest midnight, yet it shone like it was made of stars. It swished the back of her head like miniature black waves, crashing on the shore of her forehead. Her smile stretched across her face, it was what everyone in Mahogany knew her for. She had crystal sky blue eyes that almost matched her bike. Her eyes twinkled in the sunlight. It was Eden. Her brakes screeched loudly as she stopped right in front of me.

“Morning, Gem!” She greeted me grinning, “You ready for this?” I smiled back at her. If you looked at Eden’s life, it would be very unassuming that she had such a silly and cheery mood. Her parents lived separated, in two different states, and her only sibling went away to join the army when Eden was just 5 years old. He never returned… She doesn’t like talking about it, (I mean, who would?) but if you bring up any other subject, she would happily chatter on and on with you.

“It’s good to see you again Eden! Why did you bring your bike?” I questioned, although I was afraid I knew the answer.

“Oops!” Joked Eden playfully, placing a hand over her mouth, “Did I say ‘walk’? Time to get your cardio up Gemma! Go grab your bike.” I groaned halfheartedly. How did I know that would happen? I jogged to my family garage and grabbed my dirty, mud splattered mountain bike, and walked it to the sidewalk, but where Eden was, was just a bare concrete path. I saw her riding off, growing smaller in the distance.

“Try to catch up!” She called back to me, laughing hysterically.

The empty sidewalk seemed to challenge me, “Ooh! What are you going to do about that, Gemma?”

“Oh, you are going to pay for that!” And pay, she did. I quickly hopped on my bike, the cushion less seat was far from comfort, but I didn’t really mind it. I briskly sped towards my soon-to-be-beaten friend. I swiftly caught up with her and soon, we were riding side by side.

“I bet you gave yourself a head start because you knew I'm way faster than you.” I teased her.

“Nuh uh!” She giggled, splashing me while riding across a puddle.

“Hey!” I exclaimed, raising one of my hands to cover the fallen rain water from going in my eyes. I zoomed ahead of her. Soon enough, I shook off my lazy drag.

We raced past house after house, and each house I knew so well. Our town might have been meek, but we were as close as a family. It was such a tight knit community. Eden and I passed by a house we both recognized. Although it wasn’t much to look at, it gave me a warm and fuzzy feeling inside as memories gushed into my head of all the time I had spent in that house. It was the renowned home of Mama Sunny.

Her name wasn’t actually “Sunny”, but the energy she emitted was so warm and loving, we nicknamed her that. No one really knew what her actual name was, as she didn’t open her mouth much to talk. She usually just smiled, waved, and baked cookies for people. She was so dear to everyone’s heart, she was like a “mama” to the whole town. She became the oldest person living in Mahogany after her husband died.

Frail and old, she was sitting on a tan rocking chair which was swinging forward and backwards on her porch. Her back was arched, and her silver –almost white- pixie cut hair peered over something she was intently working on. Determined, she was knitting what looked like a sweater in progress. Her surprisingly nimble fingers weaved back and forth ever so swiftly. The look on her face was focused. It scrunched under her circular glasses, her deep hazel brown eyes fixated on her creation.

“HI MAMA SUNNY!” Eden flailed her arms around to get her attention. You might be wondering, Wait, can Eden ride a bike without holding onto the handle bars? Um, no. Which is why she almost crashed her pretty cruiser into one of Mama Sunny’s favorite prickly, yet gorgeous rosebushes.

Mama Sunny turned her gaze unto us. Her once stern expression melted into the kind expression she usually wore. She slowly, gently raised her hand and returned a gentle wave. She seemed to shake a little, which I determined was a silent chuckle at Eden’s silliness. Regaining her balance, Eden rode forward and I followed after giving Mama Sunny a quick smile. Mama Sunny watched us ride off. The whir of the wheels of the bike and the sound of neighbors greeting us was all that was heard in our precious town for a while.

We were coming up on another recognizable house, and I immediately tensed. Oh no, I thought, here we go again. 

“Wassup Edie? Howzit goin’ Gem ‘n M?” You know how there are class clowns in school? Well, Anthony was our neighborhood clown. He was about 14 (which was the same age as me and Eden) and was always getting into some kind of mischief. Whether it was toilet papering Brad the Mad Man’s (he’s the classic grumpy old man that’s unfortunately in every neighborhood) house, to calling people “Gem ‘n M” or “Edie” even when they told him not to.

Although he was my age I was at least a foot taller than him. People would tease him, calling him “The Ant”. I guess he deserved it, because he called other people odd or offensive names too. Eden didn’t really care that Anthony would called her “Edie”. In fact, I think she actually thought it was humorous. I didn’t.

“I told you not to call me Gem n’ M. It’s weird and offensive” I scolded him. If I wasn’t riding a bike, I would’ve put my hands on my hips to intimidate him, but unlike SOME people I know, I didn’t take my hands of the black rubber grips of my bike.

He gasped melodramatically, “Whatdya’ mean Gemma? I would never do that!” He wore a smile that had knavery written all over it. Still skeptical, I rolled my eyes and rode on, my legs pressing hard down on the pedal.

“See you Gem ‘n M!” He called when we were too far away for me to pummel him. Eden snickered, covering her mouth with one manicured hand. I grumbled.

Chapter 2 Coming soon!