Valley Wings

Chapter One

There weren't always dragons in the Valley.

Of course, there weren't always pig shifters, either. They were discovered in the most unfortunate circumstances during the annual Valley Festival of Feasts. The Valley villagers celebrated a bountiful harvest season, only to end with a memorial service and council meetings to determine a course of action for the future discovery of mystical clans.

While it is rare, new clans and powers emerging is not inconceivable. You know what is inconceivable? Me. A regular 17 year old girl from a lackluster city in Ohio who’s only talent is the ability to burn macaroni and cheese. I mean, who does that? I can’t even describe it and I’m present for the unspeakable act! Also, most mystical creatures are born in the Valley. I fell into it.

One week. One week until the start of my senior year of high school. My last year and I am out of here. Good-bye socially awkward existence and hello freedom! Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents. My mom is kind, thoughtful, generous, and maybe a little over-protective. She helped me decide on going to a community college until I figure out what interests me. It saves me money and gets my electives out of the way. My dad has his own way of showing he loves me. To him, he is always right. He knows what food should be eaten, who is the best candidate to vote for, and how to properly load the dishwasher. His way is the right way. My dad also cares very much for me. He shows his worry in a more boisterous display, becoming louder the more frustrated he gets. I’m usually pretty quiet so I just nod my head and agree with everything.

I have a handful of good friends but between working at the mom-and-pop grocery store of our small town, marching band, and keeping my GPA above a 3.0, my social life is pretty limited. Honestly, I’m not even sure what life is going to look like outside of high school. I can imagine the graduation ceremony and the parties but after that; nothing. It’s almost as if life just stops, like the black screen of death on my computer. I can’t see past it, no matter how many times I look. And I’m not an end-of-the-world conspiracy theorist; the road just seems to stop for me. I’m blocked.

I just finished my summer reading, The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne, and feel a trip to the library is in order. I slip on my brown slide sandals and pull my Disney cinch sac with Mickey and his friends over my back. I wince as the cords scrape over my fresh sunburnt shoulders as my navy spaghetti strap shirt does nothing to protect them. Curse you, pale Irish skin!

As I head for the garage, my mom calls out, “Hey, Reni-doodle! Where are you going?” her curly Farrah Fawcett brown hair peeking around the hallway corner.

“I’m heading to the library to check out a book or two and possibly a movie,” I replied.

“Alrighty sweetheart,” she cooed. “Just be careful and look both ways before crossing the street.”

“Always do, mom. See-ya!” I called back..

I mount my purple 10 speed bike and speed out of the garage and down the street. The ride to the library is mostly downhill so I coast at a leisurely pace, enjoying the wind whip through my straight brown hair. My mom would have the same, stick straight hair if she didn’t perm it every 3 months or so. I’m often told how much I look like her when she was younger.

I cross over Main Street and prepare for the next hill. Main Street’s incline is so steep that cars can’t drive up it in the winter if it freezes over. They just look like round, rejected penguins sliding backwards on their bellies. No such problem today as summer is still in full swing despite the impending school year and fall right around the corner. I stop at the very top of the hill. A cold chill runs through my body and I shudder.

“What was that?” I thought outloud. “It’s 88 degrees out! I shouldn’t get a cold chill.”

Feeling off, I look around my surroundings. Nothing seemed out of place. Across the street, the small, white, cape cod style house was nestled cozily across the road. The neighborhood developed around it, but it still has a generous size of land surrounding it. Next to it was the white wooden gazebo that straddles the neighborhood street’s sidewalk. To my left, the old farmhouse with the wrap-around porch and picket fence stood stoakley. I’m pretty sure no one lives there. The landscape has started to take over the yard and Old English Ivy stretches to touch the tin rooftops. Downhill are a couple side streets with small neighborhoods tucked away. At the bottom, Honeysuckle Park sits; warmly inviting everyone to its large picnic gazebo, swing set, and Lilliputian creek. The gentle trickle of water entices all ages to come explore and play. I may dip my toes before tackling the climb back up the hill.

The uneasiness still creeps up my neck, but I brush it off. Maybe I’m dehydrated and I need to drink more water. I settle on my bike and begin my flight downhill. Nothing can compare to the wind zipping past my body, tickling my face and tangling my hair. I let my thoughts wander to the library and what I should check out. A Choose-Your-Own-Adventure book? A romantic period piece? Maybe they have a new season of my favorite anime, Inuyasha! Maybe a cook…

Wheels screech. A horn blazes. I suddenly feel weightless as I’m lifted into the air by…. an eagle? Talons wrap around my upper arms. My body is slowly starting to panic but before I can scream, everything goes black