Scars of the Earth

Scars of the Earth

By

C.S. Moore

Thanks go to my husband who gave me so much support, and to my co-authors that were constantly at the computer with me-my kids. To my parents that were the first to read Scars all the way through, thank you for your over the top praise. Thank you Grammy, my fellow author, for the writer’s blood that pumps through my veins. Sharon thanks for taking the time to eat up my first novel and the helpful feedback. Thank you to everyone else that encouraged me to write. And lastly, thanks go to my little sister Amanda for whom the main character is named and this book dedicated.

Prologue

A smile danced across her innocent round face as she bounded, her dark brown hair blowing in the breeze. She was playing hopscotch and singing a childish tune while both sweet and stern-faced nuns pecked around the play yard, like the hens that they were.

“HOP.” Amanda sang, putting too much emphasis on the letter P. She brought her boney elbows in and bounced off one foot.

“EEE.” She said, swaying a little as she landed on two feet.

“SCOTCH.” She said bouncing off with all her might. Where she landed was not on the playground at all, and no one noticed her leave.

With a shrill chirp the dreaded bell sounded that ended recess. And all came to their seats, save one. Sister Wesley was the first to notice Amanda’s absence. Amanda wasn’t one of the children that were usually late. After ten minutes had passed, she stood from her desk and crossed the small classroom to the cool single paned windows. The playground was deserted, not a single child had lingered behind to enjoy its merriment. The chains of the swings rattled a bit in the breeze, but Amanda wasn’t swinging on any of them.

A chill took Sister Wesley as she realized that one of her students was gone.

The hallway of the old building turned into a snow storm of white and black robes. Teachers flew up and down the halls calling for a search party.

Two hours after beginning the search, Father Benton found the missing child in the woods just beyond the fence. When he came upon the girl, he immediately crossed himself and spoke a quick prayer.

The small child was crouched down in a good sized hole that she had apparently dug with nothing more than her blood stained hands. She looked more like an animal than a girl. Covered in a mixture of sweat and dirt, and shouting hysterically as she clawed at the ground.

He stood a moment, frozen in shocked horror before he rushed towards her. He lifted her up, gently pulling the tiny thing into his arms. She tried to fight him off throwing her weight around and kicking her skinny legs.

“Amanda calm down, everything is okay. You are safe. I will help you.” He promised.

She let herself relax at his offer of help. But as he started to walk away with her still in his arms she lashed out, slapping his face hard enough to sting. In his momentary surprise she wriggled out of his grasp and ran back to the hole that she had been digging.

“No I can’t leave him. Not there, not there.” She screamed.

He cried out as one of her little finger nails ripped away from its home and logged itself into the dirt that she was trying desperately to move. She didn’t seem to notice his cry or the pain that she must have felt.

I can’t imagine what has happened to her. She was always such an angel. He thought. He knelt beside her, moving slowly so he wouldn’t frighten the little girl.

“Amanda what are you doing? Tell me how to help you.” He said. She ignored him and persisted with the terrible scratching. He continued to talk to her, hoping something would snap her out of this mental fit.

“Amanda? Did someone take you from the playground? Has someone hurt you?” He asked, fearing the worst.

“No.” She answered him quickly, but didn‘t look up.

However abrupt her answer, he was happy to hear her voice.

“Where have you been? Everybody’s been looking for you, all of the sisters and your friends.” He said.

She stopped digging for a moment breathing hard. Her face turned up towards him, but she said nothing. She seemed to be trying to decide how best to answer the question she was being asked.

“I don’t know where I was. I was here; and then I was there, but I don‘t know where there was.” She said.

He looked down at her in confusion, but she seemed to be satisfied with her given answer. She looked up at him with sad blue eyes.

“Please Father, please. I’m supposed to help him. He is hurting so bad, and I’m the one who’s supposed to help him. I knew it the minute I saw him. I filled up with sunshine and I just felt him ask for my help.” She said. Father Benton didn’t know how to console the poor child. He just kept her talking, so that she wouldn’t be digging.

“Who, Amanda? Who are you supposed to help?” He asked. She looked to the old priest like she would have cried had she not used up all of her tears already.

“A boy, Justin was his name. He is stuck, and I could have helped him. But I got scared and woke up here, and left him.” She whispered.

She started screaming and clawing at the ground again. He jumped into the hole and held her firmly in his arms, making sure she was snug and couldn’t hurt herself. She screamed at the top of her lungs, trying to free her little arms. He rocked her gently while humming a church hymn on their way back to the towering Gothic structure that was the lonely child’s home.

Eleven years later

Chapter 1

Amanda sat staring at the age darkened table feeling on edge. It didn’t matter that she should feel comfortable after two years back, she didn’t. No matter how hard she tried to ignore it, the feeling of being watched was unbearable.

I wish they’d stop staring at me. It must get tiring to glare at someone for two straight years. She thought.

“Don’t look so tortured Amanda.” Cole joked as he set a bowl down in front of her. She looked up at him, feeling the unease drain as he sat next to her. He had laughter dancing in his brown eyes. It was so easy to forget her unwanted audience when he was with her.

“Am I expected to be anything but in the presence of such terrible company?” She asked him with a smile.

“Terrible company?” He said feigning hurt. “You know I could get offended by that if I wanted to.”

“You are always excluded from my rants, you know that.” She said.

“I know I just like hearing you say it.” He said around a mouthful.

He had already started digging into his soup. And it did smell uncharacteristically good today, so she followed suit. Her spoon fished around in the creamy soup until she found a chunk of potato. It was still steaming as she brought it to her lips. But she was gone before she had gotten a taste. The metal spoon fell to the ground with a loud clatter, but none of her many observers seemed at all surprised that the teenage girl had just disappeared.

It’s never been this strong. Amanda thought as she fell through space and the growing feeling of dread ripped at her chest.

This isn’t how it should feel; I am not in danger. This has already happened it is not happening again. She repeated the mantra that she had been taught over and over, but still the fear pricked at her heart. Like a well-worn textbook she flipped through the pages of her mind. Had she learned anything at all about how to stop the leap?

Of course, it’s not in the curriculum. I am probably the only Healer in the history of the world to even think about stopping mid-leap. She thought.

Even though she wasn’t yet on the other side she knew, somehow, that she was not strong enough to deal with this Scar.

Why does Madgie have such confidence in me? I fail every single test. I shouldn’t be allowed to heal; of course if the world wasn’t so messed up I wouldn’t be healing at all. She thought.

She could feel the horrible scene materializing around her. Her body began to crumble, the weight of this memory too much for one set of novice shoulders. The fear, the hate, the burning evil desire.

I am not a Healer. I’m not strong enough, I never have been. She thought.

Her vision began to blur around the edges. And just when she thought that she would succumb to the darkness she found herself standing in a dimly lit hallway. The first thing she noticed was the awful stench. Hot, wet, rot. She quickly covered her face to breathe through her sleeve.

Tiptoeing down the sticky hallway she started to memorize her surroundings. The webbing cracks in the plaster, the dark mold that clung to the walls, stretching upward from behind decaying baseboards.

Who lives here? She wondered.

She was used to landing in front of the spirit in need of help, not an empty hallway. She held her breath as she began her silent search, hoping that that would keep the stink at bay. It did little. Even without breathing, the stench seemed to creep inside her every pore contaminating her blood. All of the curriculum she had memorized wouldn’t help her here; she knew that this wasn’t a normal scar. Amanda realized that ‘Who lives here?’ was the wrong question, ‘What lives here?’ would be a better one. The unbearable fear and the living stink could only mean one thing.

A demon is here, a strong one. She thought. Her legs froze in place realizing, even before she did, the enormity of the situation.

A leach-demon is here living off of this Scar, sucking the fear and life out of this trapped spirit. She thought, knowing that the demon would stay here; feasting on this spirit’s nightmares, until either someone made it leave or the spirit faded into nonexistence.

She heard a loud crash in the unseen room to her right. Frightened, she leapt back and quickly clasped a sweaty palm over her shrieking mouth.

Nothing can hurt you, calm down! She chastised herself. She turned towards the noise. Closing her eyes tightly, she pressed her body into the nearest wall attempting to be one with it. Her heart and mind still rattled with fear, so it took longer than it should have, but she managed to slip through.

Calm down, I am a healer. I repair the world, I free spirits. I…pass out on a regular basis. I need a new mantra; the old ones aren’t helping at all. She thought.

Surfacing on the other side of the wall she put on the usual cloak, but both people in the room were looking right at her.

Must have been the scream, nothing says subtlety quite like a high-pitch squeal. She thought.

One of the two people was an overweight man in his forties. It was difficult to pin point an exact age due to the dark rings of drug use apparent beneath his black eyes. They both shook their heads and looked away from her, telling themselves that they had imagined the noise that she had made. He stood at the end of the bed with one leg in a pair of worn out sweat pants. He stumbled clumsily as he attempted to get its twin into the other hole.

She looked away quickly, tears stinging her eyes. She had witnessed scenes like this before and didn’t need to memorize all of the terrible details. The man managed to get his pants back on and started across the room.

“I don’t want to hear a word, not a word.” The man said. He didn’t need to add an ‘or else’, not anymore.

If he were more than a mere memory, I would kill him slowly. Tear off all of his favorite parts, and then leave him for the rats. She thought venomously. Amanda uncloaked herself and made her way to the bed, and the little girl lying upon it, bruised and silently crying.

She can’t be more than seven. She thought studying the child. The little girl was dirty and covered in rags. Her light brown curls tangled up into a messy halo around her head. She was rocking herself in the fetal position, face buried in a pillow.

“What’s your name?” Amanda spoke softly. The girl kept her face in the safety of the pillow and shook her little head back and forth.

“Don’t worry, he can’t hear me.” She reassured. The frail shoulders straightened up, and Amanda had to strain her ears to hear the tiny voice which sounded like it hadn’t been used for a very long time.

“Why can’t he hear you?” She asked. Before she could answer the girl’s blank face turned up in recognition. “Wait! Are you my guardian angel?” She asked. Amanda was taken by surprise. Usually the spirits trapped in Scars had gone through so much they no longer believed in anything, let alone angels.

“In a way, I am. How did you know?” Amanda asked.

The girl’s trembling hands lowered to her lap and took the filthy pillow along with them. She looked up and squinted as though the light hurt her eyes, her haunting light blue eyes. They were unfocused, and although the child was face to face with her, she seemed to be gazing off into an unseen world.

Her eyes are too light; she’s blind. Amanda thought.

“You walked through the wall, I heard you on the other side of it then you were right there.” She said pointing a tiny finger at the exact spot she had entered. “And there’s no opening, so you must be magic.” Anticipation blossomed across her face as she continued.

“I have heard about magic. It can save you from bad people or sometimes grant wishes. I have tried to use magic before, on my door, to keep out people that want to hurt me. My magic never worked, but yours does. So you must be an angel.” The child concluded. Amanda thought of the little blind girl standing in the doorway waving her thin arms and chanting an incantation, a spell of protection. She wished that the little girl’s spell had worked, but she knew better.

I wouldn’t be here if her spells had protected her from evil. She thought.

This little girl was hurt so badly that her very soul had been torn away from its rightful place inside of her body. Trapped in her past. Trapped by the man that had corrupted her soul, and maybe she died here. Maybe he had murdered her in the end. But she wasn’t trapped here in this Scar because of her death. She was trapped here because of her life. Flipping back to her first lesson at the Hovel she recanted.