Spirit Vision 3: The Power of Mortals
Author: Morgan Straughan Comnick
Genre: Paranormal Romance
"You are the beacon of the Lord’s two worlds, but how can you protect them when you have lost your shining light?
When Stary Moon, the Spirit Warrior, awakes on the lunchroom floor of her school, battered and bloodied, she cannot recollect how she came to such a state.
Stary ignores the concerns of her best friends, Chloe, Rin, and Lauren, and continues to go on with her life, but no matter how normal her days and Spirit Warrior duties are, she feels a lingering sorrow like someone is missing from her life. Her friends discover some shocking truths about Stary and realize they’re the only ones who remembers Umbra—Stary’s boyfriend who has mysteriously gone missing. Stary’s universe crashes around her and the fate of the world rests on her shoulders. Her objective is clear, but when she leaves on this mission, there is no turning back, and she will lose one of her worlds—the mortal world of her family and friends, or the spiritual world of her duty and missing someone, for good. Still, Stary has a point to prove to this dark presence that is threatening to consume the planet: there is power from those one least expects, and Stary is prepared to risk everything on this claim."
When Stary Moon, the Spirit Warrior, awakes on the lunchroom floor of her school, battered and bloodied, she cannot recollect how she came to such a state.
Stary ignores the concerns of her best friends, Chloe, Rin, and Lauren, and continues to go on with her life, but no matter how normal her days and Spirit Warrior duties are, she feels a lingering sorrow like someone is missing from her life. Her friends discover some shocking truths about Stary and realize they’re the only ones who remembers Umbra—Stary’s boyfriend who has mysteriously gone missing. Stary’s universe crashes around her and the fate of the world rests on her shoulders. Her objective is clear, but when she leaves on this mission, there is no turning back, and she will lose one of her worlds—the mortal world of her family and friends, or the spiritual world of her duty and missing someone, for good. Still, Stary has a point to prove to this dark presence that is threatening to consume the planet: there is power from those one least expects, and Stary is prepared to risk everything on this claim."
I felt like I needed reassurance.
I clicked the volume up on our remote controlled door ringer so I could hear customers if they came in. I ventured to the back of the massive building, the walls slowly going from drywall to brick and then hard concrete. It was like I was stepping through time, the walls welcoming me to the past and yearning to tell me of their adventures as observers. When I made it to the back room, the vintage room, I was surrounded with colorful garments from the 1940’s to 1980’s, organized on racks by categories with my mom’s bright and adorable handmade signs. This popular section was my mom’s pride and joy, showing off the eras that helped raise her and inspire her loving, creative soul. Shoppers found it charming, a rare, hidden gem, and they would get authentic, period pieces for costume parties.
There was, however, one other reason this room was a sweet retreat and bitter entrapment.
That is why I was here at this moment.
Sure enough, I was not disappointed at the insanity they saw. I saw the flash of fabric at the corner of my vision despite the fact I had been staring at the floor to mentally brace myself. At turtle speed, I lifted my head at the entryway to this part of the puzzle pieced together store that was my mom’s. There, I witnessed three dresses flying in a whirlwind circle that made me dizzy. A red and white checkered hoedown dress was ripped off the display wall from a sudden gale, swirling into the crazy above me, its poor, lacey underskirt frills flapping embarrassingly. A green 80’s dress and blue bellbottoms joined the fray, this rainbow trapped in a spin cycle making my stomach clench.
Wait for the wig…
On cue, a rubber, black wig dolled up in a classy fashion was tossed into the air, the calling card for my so called troublemaker, one whose mischief needed to be managed.
“Hello Natasha.”
The wig stopped its trampoline routine, hovering three feet over from the robin-egg hued carpet. The other wigs in the costume props bin vibrated, their metal clinking like the rattling of bones. I heard something that sounded like an irritated grunt and a pouting whine, one that signaled me to continue.
I plastered my calm, nurturing smile on my face, my voice becoming breathy, patient teacher mode kicking in, “Hi Natasha, I hope you’re doing good today.” I pointed upward, grinning at the parade of dresses soaring through the air. “I’m impressed with the show you did. I know it's lonely today, but in case we get any customers, we don’t want the clothes to get ruined. Do you think you could put them down for me, please Natasha?”
There was a pause, the air heavy with her thoughts and the ectoplasma energy she was producing. A few long seconds rolled by, neither one of us backing down.
I clicked the volume up on our remote controlled door ringer so I could hear customers if they came in. I ventured to the back of the massive building, the walls slowly going from drywall to brick and then hard concrete. It was like I was stepping through time, the walls welcoming me to the past and yearning to tell me of their adventures as observers. When I made it to the back room, the vintage room, I was surrounded with colorful garments from the 1940’s to 1980’s, organized on racks by categories with my mom’s bright and adorable handmade signs. This popular section was my mom’s pride and joy, showing off the eras that helped raise her and inspire her loving, creative soul. Shoppers found it charming, a rare, hidden gem, and they would get authentic, period pieces for costume parties.
There was, however, one other reason this room was a sweet retreat and bitter entrapment.
That is why I was here at this moment.
Sure enough, I was not disappointed at the insanity they saw. I saw the flash of fabric at the corner of my vision despite the fact I had been staring at the floor to mentally brace myself. At turtle speed, I lifted my head at the entryway to this part of the puzzle pieced together store that was my mom’s. There, I witnessed three dresses flying in a whirlwind circle that made me dizzy. A red and white checkered hoedown dress was ripped off the display wall from a sudden gale, swirling into the crazy above me, its poor, lacey underskirt frills flapping embarrassingly. A green 80’s dress and blue bellbottoms joined the fray, this rainbow trapped in a spin cycle making my stomach clench.
Wait for the wig…
On cue, a rubber, black wig dolled up in a classy fashion was tossed into the air, the calling card for my so called troublemaker, one whose mischief needed to be managed.
“Hello Natasha.”
The wig stopped its trampoline routine, hovering three feet over from the robin-egg hued carpet. The other wigs in the costume props bin vibrated, their metal clinking like the rattling of bones. I heard something that sounded like an irritated grunt and a pouting whine, one that signaled me to continue.
I plastered my calm, nurturing smile on my face, my voice becoming breathy, patient teacher mode kicking in, “Hi Natasha, I hope you’re doing good today.” I pointed upward, grinning at the parade of dresses soaring through the air. “I’m impressed with the show you did. I know it's lonely today, but in case we get any customers, we don’t want the clothes to get ruined. Do you think you could put them down for me, please Natasha?”
There was a pause, the air heavy with her thoughts and the ectoplasma energy she was producing. A few long seconds rolled by, neither one of us backing down.
Educator of young minds by day, super nerdy savior of justice and cute things by night, Morgan Straughan Comnick has a love for turning the normal into something special without losing its essence. Morgan draws from real life experiences and her ongoing imagination to spark her writing. In her spare time, she enjoys doing goofy voices, traveling to new worlds by turning pages, humming child-like songs, and forcing people to smile with her "bubbliness." It is Morgan's mission in life to spread the amazement of otaku/Japanese culture to the world and to stop bullying; she knows everyone shines brightly.
To learn more visit at the following:
Website: http://morganscomnick.com
Facebook: bit.ly/MorganSComnick
Twitter: @MorganSComnick
Youtube Channel: Sakurastar07
To learn more visit at the following:
Website: http://morganscomnick.com
Facebook: bit.ly/MorganSComnick
Twitter: @MorganSComnick
Youtube Channel: Sakurastar07
