Outskirts Press, INC.

Emma must disarm an evil pirate’s spells by using his own Dragon Tooth Sword

I move as a prisoner caught, for behind me comes my shadow, and before me goes my thought. The sculpture showed three people. The central figure was a young woman. Using one hand, she guided the bent form of an elderly woman, her other arm wrapped around the shoulders of a young boy. At the base, a plaque read: Between Yesterday and To-morrow, Edith Howland, and then, the poem. Emma’s hands rested on the carved bare foot of the central figure. A chill raced from the soles of her feet to the back of her scalp. Joan dropped to her knees and asked, “What’d you find?” Emma pointed to the small sign and watched as Joan read the words. Of course, Joan did not know the significance of what she read. Emma, her voice muffled by a reverence brought on by the awe of discovery, said, “This is where the sword’s buried. I can feel it.” Emma Dug frantically with her fingers. She tore at the grass and roots, lifted handfuls of wet, dark soil. “I see you’ve located my sword, young lady.” Emma felt George’s hand on her shoulder as her finger grasped the edge of the sword’s hilt. She shook him off as the air wavered, shimmering the marble sculpture. Emma heard Joan cry out, “Oh my God!” The garden faded and shifted. She felt Joan’s arm go around her waist. “Let go of the sword, Emma!” Then she could no longer draw in a breath. The alien roar again vibrated the air and was closer this time. Emma, heart pounding harder than a minute ago, leaped to her feet when she heard what could only have been the beating of wings, large wings, incredibly large wings. No, huge, she thought. Huge wings. “The dragon’s arrived,” she calmly informed Joan, although she could feel her heart in her throat. Joan released Emma, and stood directly in front of her, hands planted on her hips. “Do you know how to get us home?” “No.” Emma shook her head. What did I get us into? How do I get us home? Are we stuck here forever? And where’s here? “Sorry, Joan. I don’t know how. I wish I did. Maybe the pirate will know.” “Who? What darn pirate are you talking about?” “Dragon Sanglant. He’s the pirate.”