Free WILLODEAN (THE CUPITOR CHRONICLES Book 1) by Fowler Robertson Page A

in me, yet at the same time, something dark and disturbing reacts bitterly towards her. 
    But you didn’t fight? You just gave up.  You left me? Why should I fight if you didn’t fight Maw Sue?  Huh?  Tell me why? The air deadened between us in the darkness underneath my eyelids. 
    “Little girl.” Maw Sue said as calm as the night wind. “You don’t know what you’re saying. Some things are not as they seem. Whether or not it worked out as we planned is not our call.  I have no time for this questioning.  I have but one message for you and I shall finish it and you shall get it before I depart. Now you buck up and remember who you are, and what I taught you. In time you will understand all things.”
    The intensity of her words soaking inside my soul alarmed the Amodgians . I felt a barrage of chains break and snap.  Something or some one was set free to roam wild.  A rebel soul awakened.  A willow tree weeping.  The Amodgians kick into overdrive, whispering interceptions, while the hands pick, prod and grope.  I am losing my mind, or what’s left of it and then my internal dialogue kicks in high gear. Buck up? I’m supposed to buck up and use the gift I’m not really sure how to use?  How?  But the shadows will be angry.  She knows what they can do.  I’m scared. I can’t.  
    Make a move anyway.  No.  Move through the torment.  No. I can’t do it. They will come for me. They always come for me.  Push pass. Go to the pain but not into the pain. Don’t let it take you. Feel it and then go forward. No. No. No. I can’t. 
    My mind goes blank and then I understand why.  I hear her running through the house, room to room, door to door, the pitter-patter of her bare feet sounds like distant drums getting closer.  Was she the one set loose? Oh no. She is remembering things—and I am remembering with her.  No.  No.  Stop it.   Our mind intermingles  as one.  My heart swells with satisfaction.  I see us happy and sitting in a mud puddle on a warm summer day.  We envision gifts, crackles, dirt tunnels, mirror bins and promises.  The thoug ht pulls me from the fear room and back to my bedroom.  From fear to joy? How did that happen?
    “Come back.” The shadow says. One after another they return to taunt me until the room is filled with their desperate cries. I plug my ears as best I can and think about the little girl in the puddle, the mud caked on her legs, her arms, the sun on her face, the joy in her smile.  I soothe my troubled mind with the visions while the ancient blood of Cupitors surges in me.  And then I had an epitome, similar to the one I had on the porch when I took my crackle vows, except this time, I’m a full-fledged adult. The thought was plum crazy and nothing about it made a lick of sense.  I giggled while my mind entertained it.  
    I stared out the window at the leaf crackle as it spun in the spider web, high up in the wondering tree.  A huge smile swept across my face, so much it hurt. 
    Climb the tree Willodean, climb the tree.   A part of me longed for freedom, excavation and light. As far as I could tell—the only thing that stood in my way, right then and there—was a windowsill . 
    Adult Willodean screams — No Way! Don’t do this. What will people think?
    Child Willodean whoops and laughs— Heck yeah. Let’s do this. Rebel yell!
     
    The next thing I know, I’m causing a ruckus in the neighborhood. In a flash, I’m out the window and up the tree. An air of mischievous flushes through me.  I remembered the awesome pranks Mag and I played on Maw Sue and how much I used to love life, the silly things, the belly laughs and taking risks because of faith.  What happened to that girl?  Halfway up the tree, I slip into a mode of eclectic insanity. I have no idea if I’m a child or an adult, or both.  I hear Maw Sue’s laughter in the heat of the wind as it blows.  I was a sight, still in my pink pajamas with white coffee cups and