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~ M y s t i c B o r n~ {Prologue}

~ M y s t i c B o r n~ {Prologue}

Posted February 16th, 2019 by SarahJ

by Sarah J
in Ohio

5 Years Ago - Nell

I was eleven years old when my best friend, Ezra Flynn, went missing. The waves splashed against the rocky shore and salty air sprayed our faces, along with the warm summer wind that carried it. Wispy clouds floated across the twilight-dipped sky. Rich, mellow colors of rose and lilac and marigold painted the horizon as the radiant sun began to sink beneath the waves. Grandpa’s lighthouse had just begun to glow for the night, ready to guide lost ships to the shore with its rotating bulb. Breathless from running down to the shore, we collapsed in the sand, laughing with the little air we collected.

“You are the wolf, you know,” Ezra smiled at me. “Fierce and fast and smart, but loyal, too.” His curly brown hair blew into his eyes, and for a moment, I wanted to reach up and push them out of the way, for his deep, empathetic hickory eyes were entrancing. I, usually timid, felt not embarrassed but understood under his gaze. He was thirteen, and seemed so much older and mature than I.

“Why do you always know what I’m thinking?” The question had been asked many times before, and I always got the same answer.

“I know the way you think. It’s my talent,” Ezra brought his finger to his temple, gesturing to his uncanny ability to understand the thoughts and emotions of others. He took his finger and placed it on the center of my chest. “Nell, you are very talented too. You just haven’t discovered it yet.” I was not satisfied. I wanted to know what he meant, more than anything. I wanted a purpose, something to be proud of. Looking at Ezra was bringing an unwelcome burning in my eyes, like tears starting to well up.

“Where are you even going? I want to go with you. I have nobody here,” I harshly wiped my eyes with the back of my hands, trying to stop tears. I hadn’t wanted to bring up the fact that Ezra was leaving our hometown, Wyndow, for good tomorrow. Nobody but I knew about it. If Ezra saw me cry, he would think I was a sensitive child. Why did I have to cry so much? Ezra’s smile faltered, and his eyebrows raised with an understanding of how deep my sadness was. He gently placed his hands on my clenched fists, unfurling them from their bitter hold.

“I’m going to a strict school. You wouldn’t want to be there, and there is so much more opportunity for you here,” Ezra grabbed a pebble on the beach and threw it out onto the calm sea, and placed one in my own hand. He looked into my eyes, a sudden seriousness in his gaze, holding me in their stare like a hook. “Nell, you must never go there. Promise me, you will never go.” My heart raced anxious, confused beats, like I was running out of time.

“I don’t know what you mean. Please tell me so I know,” I said, and looked up the hill to where the stones and sands reached the grass, a ways away from where Grandpa’s cottage stood, next to the lighthouse. A figure stood there, waiting. Ezra saw it too.

“I have to go. Be careful.” Ezra ran up the hill and left me on the beach, with too many questions, and no more time.

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