Author Steven Clark Bradley
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Samantha C. Ross and found on
The Emmerson Witches.com
The Emmerson Witches
Do you belong...On the mysterious Island of Americus...?
Travel across the waters to a place of
enchantment...and perhaps of curses too.
Join the girls on their path, as they face the strange events that occur on their mysterious island home...
The journey starts here...read on to see The Story So Far, or jump straight to Chapter One. Need to know more? Check out the secrets of the paranormal in Words Of Magic, or find out your very own magical personality in supernatural star signs! Don't forget to leave your thoughts on the 'Tell Us What You Think!' page...your opinion is important to us!
We invite you to become a resident on the island of enchantment...prepare to be charmed, spellbound, and bewitched...
The Emmerson Witches. A new YA novel by Creator Author Samantha C Ross.
Take a look at Chapter One
Take your amulet, your charms, your cross,
And keep them close at hand,
For in the gloaming of the witching hour, things unknown,
Loom in the shadows of the land,
And even the stars, they shudder, pretending that they glisten,
While the moon slides purposely amongst the clouds,
As fearfully she listens,
Beings that dwell in the catch of night,
Would chill the blood of veins,
If for one moment, they were glanced upon,
In an instant would drive you insane,
But who will help us, as the crypts slide open,
And the mist begins to draw near?
For is it the witches we should be afraid of?
Or what the witches fear…
I can’t ever really remember not living on the island, or it not feeling like home to me. Sometimes my Aunt Tookie and my oldest sister would talk softly of another place we had lived. Though their conversations always seemed sad and wistful – memories best left far away and forgotten. I wondered briefly, as I breathed in a blast of cold white air, if our other home – too long in the past for me to recall, had been any warmer than here.
“Let’s go Babybelle.” My middle sister Angel announced, starting down the wooden stairs leading from the veranda.
“Don’t call me that.” I snapped, hating my childhood nickname, and hating the cold even more. “Where’s Evangeline? Isn’t she coming with us?”
“Not yet. She’s helping Aunt Tookie with something – she’ll follow us soon.”
I wasn’t really listening; the icy stairs in March, glazed with morning frost were a death-trap if not navigated properly. Regardless of the rickety stairwell, and the wintry weather, I sincerely loved the place I called home. I adored our house that sat perched on a bluff, overlooking a stretch of beach. The beauty of our dwelling lay in its whitewashed wood and sprawling verandas. Giant potted plants grew wildly, overgrowing with flowers and herbs. And the sweet smelling jasmine, spiraling through trellis, framed the balcony so prettily.
But mostly I loved the rainbow colored lamps, still lit-up in the windows, even at school time. Our island was always hung with morning fog this early in the year.
“Would you get a move on!?” My sister yelled through the mist, reaching the beach path before me. I ignored her and took my time. Another part of my morning ritual was to enjoy the view once I had reached the path, savoring a glimpse of the roaring, silver-grey surf.
Americus Island – the place I’d inhabited for most of my life, lies between Martha’s Vineyard and Nantucket. It possesses a curious, subtropical climate. For the most part, my island home seems to prefer warmth, even when it shouldn’t. The blazing sunshine, and summer humidity claim a large part of the year. Except for days like today. During the first months of the New Year, not even balmy Americus Island can turn its back on the icy tentacles of New England.
Our unusual island also boasted a strange botanical mixture. A mysterious combination of dense, twisted forest, and of bordering woodlands, the thick greenery tapered away to reveal palm-tree fringed beaches. The island spreads in an uneven merging of flat residential areas, and jagged, rocky cliffs. Shaped like a star, all five points raise above the ocean. We lived closest to the most southerly tip, Yule point.
Although Americus is part of the state of Massachusetts, it seems a solitary destination anchored in the ocean all alone, void of a partnership with the outside world. From time to time, I’ve heard locals comment about the feeling of isolation caused by residing on an island that seems separate to anywhere else.
Of course, there are others who chose to be here for that reason…
"We are not human beings on a spiritual journey,
but spiritual beings on a human journey"
Samantha C. Ross