CHAPTER 1 | DREAMCATCHER
“All right, Rowan, put the computer away. It’s past Aiden’s bedtime,” the old, cracking nanny’s voice softly called from the hallway next to his room. She didn’t have to look; she knew he was on it. Rowan reluctantly shut his laptop with a frown. He was already lying in his bed across from his younger brother Aiden’s.
The nanny, who they called Old Ma, took a step into his room and with a half–sideways twist of her bulbous wrist, flicked the light switch off. She had horrible posture, with a slightly noticeable hunchback. She had told Rowan once before that she was born this way.
“Goodnight, boys,” she said as she hobbled out.
With the light off and his laptop closed, the only light left on in his room was the dim nightlight on the far wall. Rowan looked over at Aiden, who he shared a room with. He was already sleeping. When Aiden was tired, he was really tired and just fell right to sleep. Maybe that was part of his autism, Rowan thought, or maybe it was just him. Rowan sighed and wished he could remember their real mother.
It was storming outside and lightning flashed, briefly lighting up their room through their bedroom window. Startled, Rowan could swear he thought he saw someone outside with a long, black raincoat on. The person was in the front of his house, out on the sidewalk, looking directly at him. He could feel goose bumps on his arm as more thunder boomed, following the lightning. Thirteen-year-old Rowan shuddered and his teeth chattered.
I’m graduating middle school at the end of this week, thought Rowan. There’s no need to be scared of a little old storm and someone walking down the street. I’m gonna be in high school next year.
He laid flat with his head on his pillow, looking up at his dreamcatcher. It was then that he realized it wasn’t there. He blinked a couple times as though it would appear and he just didn’t see it at first. It was his special dreamcatcher that he had had since he could remember. He liked to imagine that his real mom gave it to him before going from foster home to foster home, but he and no one else really seemed to know where it had come from. And no, it wasn’t hanging above his bed any longer.
It was all he could do to not jump up and frantically start searching for it. Over the years, he had had crazy dreams that his little brother liked to listen to the stories of. In fact, Aiden liked to think that his older brother was psychic, but Rowan didn’t want to think about that. He just wanted to be normal. And his dreams were often confusing and left him stressed out. Too stressed out for a kid to have to feel, he had heard Old Ma telling his foster parents.
With his dreamcatcher hanging over his head, he would only have good dreams. The nightmares of strange places and faraway times didn’t plague him. When he did have those nightmares or vivid dreams, though, he would talk them through by recording video log stories of them. That always made him feel better.
Maybe it was because he was about to graduate from eighth grade and feeling extra courageous, but he decided he would be okay sleeping for the night without it. It was probably Aiden that took the dreamcatcher again, Rowan told himself.
He could still hear the storm outside; it sounded like it was really pouring hard. Thunder crashed again, but Rowan closed his eyes and reached inside of himself to find his fearlessness. Good dreams, good dreams, Rowan silently repeated.
Rowan could hear his foster sister, Benita, and her two friends down the hall, giggling about something. She was having a sleepover that Friday night. Maybe it was one of them outside just now, he thought…
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
Thank you for reading!
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed A Spell, A Prayer, & A Wish: Prequel of The End of Fate. Writing the prequel to a trilogy I already have written was a fun way to give more personality and explanation to the characters.
After releasing A Spell, A Prayer, & A Wish I had a lot of readers giving me different comments or criticism. As an author, I love feedback. You readers are the reason I tell these stories. So, let me know what you liked, loved, or even hated about the story. I would be more than happy to hear from you. You can write me at
[email protected] and visit me on the web at www.twitter.com/ParkerHennegan or www.facebook.com/ParkerHennegan.
Finally, I need to ask you for a favor. If you’re so inclined, I’d love a review of A Spell, A Prayer, & A Wish. Loved it—hated it, I’d just enjoy your feedback.
Reviews can be tough for an indie author to come by nowadays. You, the reader, have the power to make or break a book. If you have the time, please write a little something.
Thank you so much for being a part of The End of Fate and for spending time with me.
Much appreciation,
Parker Hennegan
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Parker Hennegan lives in southern Arizona with his beautiful wife and two adorable daughters. He was classically trained as a music composer and continues to compose both music and prose.
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