Excerpt: Something Strange at Saint Sebastian's

I've decided to post a bit from each chapter...

"For the month of November, we are going to be engaging in a fantastic voyage," he said, as he wrote out the words, "National Novel Writing Month" on the board. "That gives you about two months to plan your novels. Today, we'll begin examining different possible genres that you might choose for your novel."

Elle's brow furrowed and she bit her lip as she began taking notes. She'd never written a novel before – or even a short story. How did someone even come up with an idea for a story? Where did you start?

"We'll start with the horror genre," the professor said, as he leaned back against the edge of his desk. "A horror story is one intended to elicit fear in the reader, so, we'll start with the simple question of, 'What is your greatest fear?'" He glanced around and said, "Ken."

"Evil peas," Ken said immediately. He giggled, and the three girls in the back of the room echoed the sound. When Professor Stanford crossed his arms over his chest, he said, "For real, though, my worst fear is that it's the dead of winter, and I go out to get something out of the car when it's dark. I slip and fall, and no one comes out to help me because they're watching, like, Grey's Anatomy or something."

The professor nodded. "So," he said, "let's brainstorm a bit. How could we turn that around and make a horror story out of it? Or, if not an entire story, how can we make that a scene in such a story?"

For a moment, no one said anything. Elle glanced around at her classmates. Ken shrugged. He'd given them the starting point. Hitoshi's brows were furrowed, as if he were deep in thought. Shin looked as lost as she did. Caleb was scribbling in his notebook, looking for all the world as though he wasn't paying attention to the discussion.

"Anyone?"

That was the teacher. If no one answered, he'd call on someone. Elle bit her lip. "Maybe... maybe something's out there and attacks him?" she said. Her voice came out soft and filled with uncertainty.

"That's a good start," the professor said, nodding. He walked over to the chalkboard and started writing. "Let's keep going along that vein. So, our character goes out to his car at night – it's the dead of winter and pitch black. He slips and falls. Is that when something attacks him?"

"No," Hitoshi said, "that's not scary enough." His brows furrowed even more. "Maybe he sits there a bit, like he hurt himself, and he tries to call for help."

"But his friend doesn't hear him," Caleb piped up, "'cause he's watching Grey's Anatomy." He looked up from his notebook and grinned.

"Then he hears something moving in the bushes," Shin said, leaning forward in his seat.

"That would be a good moment for a classic horror tool called a cat scare," the professor said. "The reader is expecting something to happen to him, especially with the strange noise in the bushes, so instead, a cat would run out into the open."

"Oh," Elle said, grinning, "maybe, he finally gets up – after the cat scare – and gets inside and his friend has been attacked by something!"

"Like an evil pea!" Ken said, sounding excited. He chuckled and ducked his head. "or not..."

"It came from cupboard," Caleb said, in a low ominous voice. There was scattered laughter around the room.

From Chapter Two:

"In order to play tennis in the springtime, I have to sign up for the school's All Sports Team," he said. He made a distasteful face and shook his head.

"That doesn't sound so bad," Elle said. "You like sports, so why would it bother you to be on an All Sports Team."

He chuckled softly and shook his head. "That's just the name they use for it," he said. "What it really is, however, is another matter. The All Sports Team is what they call the Pep Squad at this school!" He stopped again and said, "If I want to play tennis in the spring, I have to become a cheerleader!" He shuddered and shook his head again.

He waited for the expected laughter, however, Elle's reaction was completely different from what he'd expected. She skipped ahead of him and then whirled back to face him. "Can I be a cheerleader too?" she asked, practically bouncing in place.

"Try out for it," he said, rolling his eyes. "That's where I'm headed." With a cheer, Elle fell into step beside him once again and they made their way over to the soccer field.

Chapter Three:

"Whoops."

Jake’s eyebrows twitched at the single word. That was never something someone wanted to hear as they approached the student labs. He peeked around the door and saw Hitoshi, scowling at some device. "That didn't sound good,” he said. When Hitoshi looked over at him, he said, “Something wrong?"

"No, nothing wrong,” Hitoshi said, shaking his head. He looked back at the device and picked it up off the table. “That's just the problem. It worked."

"Huh?"

Hitoshi gave him a frustrated look. "It wasn't supposed to work. It was supposed to break." He tossed it back on the table and sat down on a stool. His fingers danced over the keys, as he made notes about whatever he was working on.

“How’s that work?” Jake said, blinking incredulously. Why would he want whatever it was he was working on to break? Wasn’t his job to get things working?

Exhaling loudly, Hitoshi picked up another device. It looked almost like a television remote. “This was supposed to break that,” he said, pointing at the other device.

“Oh.”

This is just a short, humorous scene, from Chapter Four:

"So," Ryoma said, his voice soft. He pointed at front of Jake's sweatshirt. "I can see you like the Venn Lion." The words, "insert clever saying here" were written across his chest, along with the face of a lion formed by the Venn diagram.

"Yeah," Jake said, grinning. "Venn Lion is great! I've got a Venn Lion desk calendar for next year. I saw it at the store and had to pick it up."

"Our mom says Venn Lion is mean," Hanako said. She grinned at her brother and added, "That's why you aren't allowed to get anything with him on it."

"Is Venn Lion male?" Hitoshi asked. He looked at the front of Jake's shirt. "I mean... it doesn't have a mane. Wouldn't that make Venn Lion female?"

"I guess so," Jake said. He looked down at his shirt and then grinned. Shrugging, he said, "I guess Venn Lion's a girl. I don't care. It's cool whether it's a male lion or a female."

Rafi looked over them and rolled his eyes. "Some of them have manes and some are cats, instead of lions," he said. He shook his head and added, "Venn Lion's kid stuff anyway."

"Said the older brother, from the lofty age of twelve," Ryoma said, rolling his eyes.

A bit from Chapter Five:
He was five when he realized he saw the world differently to everyone else. Darian saw a world covered in glowing threads. He took him a year after that realization before he tried touching one of those threads. Part of him was afraid of what would happen, if he gave in to the temptation. Finally, he worked up the courage to touch one. He steeled himself, trying to prepare for anything. He wasn't sure if he was disappointed or relieved when nothing happened at all.

He'd written his power off as a 'spot-on-the-wall' ability. He'd begun to wonder why the Larabees bothered sending him to a special school when he was average in every way, except how he saw the world. Then the day came when he was climbing a tree with Jake. That was a day that changed everything.

He was high in the branches when he saw a ribbon tangled in them. It was green, with white dots. His sister would like that ribbon. She could wear it in her hair. She could use it for her dolls. He was determined to grab that ribbon. He reached and reached, straining his arm and stretching his fingers.

Then, just as his fingers closed around the strip of cloth, the branch he was standing on snapped. He felt himself falling and braced for the impact, even as he flailed, trying to catch something – anything – to stop or slow his descent. He caught hold of one of these threads and stopped.

He blinked and looked around. He was several feet in the air, floating. He blinked in wonder. Was that what the threads were for? He looked down and realized that he was standing on a thread. He stepped down tentatively to the next lower thread, climbing down the threads just like a ladder, until he was on the ground.

Telekinesis, the people at the school called his gift. It was a physical one. His ability to see the threads he used to propel it was his mental gift. Now, as Darian stared out over the soccer field, he had to wonder. Where had that gift come from?

And from Chapter Six:

At a nod from Professor Murray, Shin set a marshmallow in the basket of the catapult and then let it fly. It sailed across the room, to drop at Ryoma's feet, just on a ruler that ran from the front edge of the trebuchet to the far side of the room.

"Eight inches? Wow!" Ryoma said, glaring at the marshmallow.

"Yes," Professor Murray said. "Eight inches. Shall we see how far the trebuchet sends one?" He looked at Ken and nodded.

Ken let his marshmallow fly. It certainly sailed further. Shysie stepped over to it and said, "Thirteen inches, Professor Murray."

"That's not very far," Oliver said, his brow furrowing.

"I don't suppose it is," Professor Murray said. He smiled and said, "It's important to consider, however, these models are at a smaller proportion of their real size. A full sized siege engine would be larger than this room and capable of hurling boulders."

Ryoma smiled and nodded. "You also have to consider how far, in the past, have marshmallows been flung?"

"Indeed," Professor Murray said, grinning.

Shysie looked at the trebuchet, with an expression of exaggerated surprise. "We're flinging marshmallows into the past with this thing?" she said. She turned to Ryoma and added, "That is amazing!"

This comment was greeted with assorted giggles. Ken, not to be outdone, said, "One thing beats trebuchets and catapults every time." Then he flung a marshmallow across the room. Rather than sailing through the air in a graceful arch, it darted across to adhere to the wall.

"That's right," Professor Murray said. "You are the marshmallow ninja, lord of all air puffed confections."

The students laughed and Michael said, “Why do you have a cotton ball in your pocket, Professor?”

“This?” the professor replied, pulling out the cotton ball again. He smirked and said, “As I said earlier to Miss Hamill, it is far to light to be effective as a projectile.” He looked down at the wad of cotton and said, “How, if we really wanted to use it, rather than marshmallows, could we increase its weight?”

“Get it wet,” Oliver said, shrugging.

“Yes,” Professor Murray said. He smiled and said, “Soaking it in water or, better yet, alcohol, would make this ball of cotton a far more effective projectile.”

“Why alcohol, Professor?” Shysie asked. She had a suspicion that she knew the answer, but she wanted to hear his say it.

Professor Murray grinned viciously. “Alcohol burns,” he said, with surprising glee.

Tim’s eyes widened and he took a step back, away from the professor and the two miniature siege engines. “Is that even legal?” he gasped.

From Chapter Seven:

"Sandy," he said. The cat looked up at him, then, all big green eyes. He sank down to his knees and held out one hand. "Come here, then," he said. "I'm not here to hurt ya. I just want ta get ya home."

The cat scented the air and then took a few tentative steps across the bare, dusty floor. When she was near enough, he let her sniff at his fingers. Then he smoothed her fur. It was thick and soft, almost like the rabbit fur they used to line gloves or jacket collars. "Are ya part rabbit, then, cat?" he said, in a soft voice.

The cat rubbed against his leg and he smiled. "Guess we're friends now, then," he said. Gently and carefully, he lifted the cat into his arms. As she snuggled against his chest, he stood. "All that's left is bringing you home."

He turned and headed out of the room. Humming softly to himself, he carried the cat towards the door. Just as he reached it, the door slammed shut. Caleb's eyes widened, then he screamed as something picked him up and lifted him into the air. His grip tightened around the cat, preventing her from squirming free. At the same time, Caleb couldn't escape whatever was holding them.

"Help!" he screamed, as he was dragged back the way he'd come and then down the stairs into the cellar.

From Chapter Eight:

Professor Stanford kept his gaze down as he walked towards the teen dance club, watching the neat, even blocks of the sidewalk. They'd just redone this stretch of walk a few months ago, with an eye towards encouraging new business. Previously, it had been uneven and broken in several places. Now, it was pristine.

He walked with even, measured steps. Each block was crossed in exactly two steps, without fear of stepping on any of the seams in between them. He tapped the parking meters absent-mindedly as he walked. He'd long since ceased caring what anyone seeing him do this might think. It was a comfort – something he could control, when there was so very much he couldn't.

"Still do that, huh?" a soft, familiar voice said.

He was so startled that he missed touching a parking meter and stumbled trying to avoid stepping on a seam, nearly falling. He would have fallen, if someone hadn't caught him and helped him upright again. He blinked rapidly and slipped out of the other's arms. "Thank you, Chris," he said, tapping the parking meter he'd missed.

He looked back at his former colleague and frowned. Clearly, something was upsetting him. What? He tapped the parking meter again. Was it that he felt he was owed an explanation? Again, he touched the parking meter. Had something happened? He brought his hand down towards the meter a fourth time, but Judson caught his hand and held it.

"Patrick?" he said.

Professor Stanford felt his cheeks warm. He looked up at Judson. For a moment, their eyes darted back and forth, each one searching the other's face for... something. He pulled back and shoved his hands firmly into his coat pockets. "Wh-what – what are you doing here?" he said, looking down and away.

Chapter Nine:

"Little mice trying to find their way inside?" the woman said, tilting her head to one side. She glanced at the boy. "Edward?"

"A telepath, a clairvoyant, a dream-walker and a projective," he said, in a soft voice. He looked over at the professor and said, "You already know that Professor Stanford is a precognitive."

"And you're a sensor," the professor said. His brows furrowed and he said, "Is this where you've been Edward? Are you all right?"

The boy shot a look at the woman and grimaced. "Professor Miriam?" he said, his voice faint.

"I'd worry about myself, if I were you, Patrick," the woman said. She flung out a hand and dust flew up into the air. It scattered at the men, who shielded their faces reflexively.

Professor Stanford gasped when a hand closed around his upper arm. "Chris!" he said, automatically. He had just enough time to realize who was holding him – Edward – then the boy dragged him through the nearby wall.

"Let me go," he said, struggling. He managed to pull free of Edward, but then he was caught by someone else and lifted into the air. He blinked and kicked his feet helplessly. He left and right, trying to see who was holding him and how, then his eyes widened in surprise. He was just floating in the air?

"Confused?" a soft voice said. Professor Saunders stepped around him and stopped in front of him, beside Edward. "I'm a psychokinetic, remember?"

"I remembered that were a psycho," Professor Stanford said, scowling darkly. "I forgot the kinetic part."

Chapter Ten (Last Chapter):

"Bradley Chevalier," I said. I blinked and looked past him, into the room beyond. "Saunders killed you, didn't he?"

"Yup," Bradley said. He laughed and shook his head. "Never even felt it. One second, I was alive and talking to him. The next, well, he grabbed hold of my heart with his power. He held it still – kept if from beating." He shook his head. "I didn't really feel it, but it wasn't supposed to happen."

It was a horrible way to have died, even if he hadn't felt it. Especially since it had happened before it should have. How much more time was Bradley meant ot have had? What things had he been destined to do, that wouldn't happen now? "So you became a Lost Soul," I said.

I blinked, as rippled of excitement came through the air towards me. Shysie had opened the door to the room Madison had said Ryoma was in.

"He's safe," she said, relief evident in her tone. She stepped forward, but Caleb was just a bit faster than her.

He knelt beside the bed and chuckled softly. "He's asleep," he said. He shook Ryoma and the older boy moaned softly. His eyes squeezed shut and then blinked open.

Then he sat up and his cheeks flushed. He looked down at the word processor. It was off. He keyed one button and nodded. Then he saved the document and tossed the device into his bag. "Let's go," he said.

He stood and shoved his feet into his shoes. Shysie nodded. "The others - people who came with us – need our help," she said.

"They're not the only ones," Ryoma said, briskly. "Madison and Raven..."

"We already got them, man," Erick said, grinning.

Ryoma sighed softly. Then he frowned and said, "What about Edward? Did you find him?"

Shysie shook her head. "Not yet," she said. They hurried down the hall and she added, "He's probably with everyone else, with Randall."

"Then we need to hurry," Ryoma said, his brows furrowing.

Not very far away, I was still struggling to make sense of Bradley's words. It made sense now. "You work for Yokimura and… he sent you to claim a soul from the school."

"Yes," Bradley said. He grinned then. It was a cold, vicious smile and I knew what he was planning, even before he spoke. "I know who I'm taking. Help them. Take out Randall." He grinned and said, "Cut off the head of your snake, Professor McPhie."