This story has some language that may be not be aproprate for 13 and younger.
Will you recognize me?
Call my name or walk on by
Rain keeps falling, rain keeps falling
Down, down, down, down
Hey, hey, hey, hey
Don't you try to pretend
It's my feeling we'll win in the end
I won't harm you or touch your defenses
Vanity and security
Don't you forget about me
I'll be alone, dancing you know it baby
Going to take you apart
I'll put us back together at heart, baby
~Don’t You Forget About Me
The distant clock tower bell rang out twelve times.
Jason carefully traced a circle in the dirt in the middle of the practice football field. From there he made a picture of a man on the top, a child on the right, the rune for death on the left, a woman on the bottom then the sacred symbol of the Spirit that turns the eternal wheel of life and death. White energy infused each symbol as he dug them into the hard earth with his finger. A visible glow expanded and faded in the space of a passing second, but a more subtle energy remained, a slight tingle to those who haven’t developed their sense, an ignorable feeling like a limb falling asleep or the tickling of an invisible feather.
From the deep pockets of his green/black camouflage cargo pants, he produced two vials of liquid. “Sacred water of the mother spirit.” He poured enchanted river water over the circle. “Sacred water of the father spirit.” From this vial, he poured holy water from a local cathedral. “There is a darkness here.” Jason vocalized the spell to focus on his building energy. “A malicious spirit. A presence of bottled anger and repressed emotion. Please show yourself to me so that I may help you pass on.” Jason placed the palms of his hands together and focused on the boundaries between the living and the dead. Jason then pulled a chipped bone from his pocket and with a hunting knife, he began to carve a name.
“I know what you’ve been through, and I’m here to help you.”
You don’t know me. The thought was carried on an ice cold breeze.
Jason closed his eyes and concentrated on the rift between worlds. He saw the green grass of the field turn brown with decay, watched as the new metal bleachers fell into rusted disrepair. This was where he would find her spirit lurking now. Jason, the sixteen year old shaman clenched his shaking fists tightly, and choked back a massive lump in his throat.
Short first chapter.... lots more written... more to come....