The Wizard's Mate: The Tearstone Chronicles

The break of dawn was saintly with the sound of a subdued waterfall. The sky was a stunning pink aura, with exceptional clouds floating away in the heavens. Suddenly, the clouds turned dim, and a storm was approaching, at a fast and steady pace. Thunder Broke and the wind began to glide. I was airborne, floating on air. Another book of thunder sounded, and then I woke up. That attractive waterfall in my dream, was my twin brothers, Kyle and Frank, flushing their "Definitive Mustard Grenades" down the toilet, dad had caught them and told them to get rid of them. They invented everything and anything under the sun, weather it was safe or not. Thank goodness that my dad had health insurance, for my brothers were what I called the little monsters. They were only seven years old, and looked like our mom, blond hair, and deep brown eyes. This “adventure” with the toilet had ended badly, when the mustard grenades has gone off on dad's new girlfriend, Lacy Martin. She had blond hair, always wore high heel shoes, and a cocktail dress. She reminded me of a Barbie doll. Her nails were almost bird like. They were so long that I am pretty sure she could permanently blind someone with one stroke if she wanted to. Not one of us liked her. The twins were the only ones who would try to get rid of her. None of us dared, or face the wrath of dad. This time, however, the twins’ plan had worked, but dad was not happy. In fact, he was furious. It was the first time in five years, after mom died, that dad had started dating again. Mom had gone to the grocery store, just like she did every Monday, and never came back. Dad filed a missing person report, but we heard nothing. Five years passed with no news. Eventually, we all stopped hoping that mom would come home. We went on with our lives as if it was normal. One day, we got a knock on our door, saying that they had found mom. She had been ambushed and hidden in the woods. They identified the body as moms. We had the funeral, and never spoke of it again. Now, five years later, dad had gone through the house, and taken every photo of mom down. We were each allowed to keep the photo of mom that we wanted. Dad took the rest of the memories of mom, up to the attic. It was as if he was trying to erase her. He showed no emotion. For the next couple of weeks, it was like the invasion of the body snatchers. Dad was there, but he was not really Dad. Then suddenly, he started to go on dates, never even asking us kids, what we thought about it, almost like he did not care anymore. He hired a nanny, and started to work all the time. We never saw him, and on birthdays there was always a gift waiting for us on the table with a note telling us happy birthday, but it never said I love you. One year, I just go an envelope with money that told me to buy my own birthday gift. At first, I thought it was sweet. Dad was trying to get me to get something I liked, but eventually it clicked. He did not even go get a gift for me. He was either too busy, or did not want to. As the years passed by, I watched as dad would sit in his office, with a glass of scotch, and look over his work papers. He seemed so sad, alone, and just plain miserable. He always was dating someone. It seemed that he was trying to fill the hole that mom had left behind. He was angry that she was gone. It was not mom’s fault, but I am sure he felt mad that she was gone, and so he went from one woman to the next, trying to fill the hole, that was punched through his heart, on the day she left. The girl’s dad brought home were all too obvious. They just wanted his money. They were pretty, and in my opinion, mostly plastic. Dad owned his own stock company and did well for himself. He named it the T & R Stocks, after Tanya, my mom, and his name, Ryan. The Nanny dad hired for us was great. Her name was Cynthia Wallis. She was enjoyable and sweet. She did her job, and she did it well. She was the woman that we all looked to when we needed a mother figure. She lived with us in the spare room, since she really didn't have a family of her own. Dad paid her well, and we got along great. Cynthia would get Saturdays and Sundays off, because my older brother Jordan had off from work. Jordan was about six feet tall. He was almost thirty years old. He had a marine buzz cut and hazel eyes. He was always working out. He would watch us kids. I would watch the kids on Sundays, because it was football day. I was seventeen years old, so I could handle it. When you grew up with my family, you were used to all the surprises that would come your way when babysitting. Anyway, today was Monday and things being normal as ever. The sound of horrendous beeping filled my ears and I moaned, reaching for the item causing the horrid ruckus. I catapulted, the annoying, and most evil devise known to man, across the room. It was my alarm clock. I heard it crash against my wall and fall to the floor like a dead weight. I then heard my little brothers, Mark, and Tony, stampeding around in their rooms, like a herd of wild buffalo. I switched gears and listened for the music of my older brother, Jordan, who would blast it every morning. I hated his heavy metal music. What is the point of singing if you can't understand what the artist or band members are saying? In my opinion, there was too much anger and demise in that genre. I groaned in hateful agony. Why did every morning have to be so loud and obnoxious? I pulled the covers off my warm body and sat up with a stretch. The warmth left my body, which meant that the day had officially begun. I looked around my room. Everything was exactly as it should be. My room was the average size of a girl's room. It contained a dresser, my bookshelf filled with my favorite books, my desk, my canopy bed, and my bay window, with my beautiful curtains, that I had made myself. The walls were sky blue with a white boarder, making the paint on the bottom of the partition a shade darker. My bedspread was nice and simple. It was white and had sunflowers on it. My dad had made sure that his only daughter had a room fit for a princess. Over the years, I had designed bits and pieces of the room to reflect me, and who I was as a person. My dad had never really understood me, and he was not going to start now. I got up, made my bed, and headed for my closet. I picked out a nice pair of flair jeans and a red striped sweater. I looked at my refection in my mirror. I had long hair to my butt. It was blond. I had brown eyes, and a couple of freckles. I looked exactly as my mom did when she was my age. I smiled and nodded. I got on my sneakers and picked up my purple backpack while heading out my bedroom door. I was in my senior year of high school I was not popular or anything, but I got along just fine. I walked down to the kitchen, placed my bag on the floor, and got some breakfast. The twins ran through the kitchen with their hands full of fire crackers. I turned to Cynthia who was cooking eggs on the stove. "Um, Cynthia, the twins just ran through here with firecrackers in their hands." I spoke. Cynthia's head shot up. Her blue eyes shined and her golden hair bounced. "Are you kidding me?" she practically yelled, leaving the eggs to burn, as she rushed into the backyard. I heard firecrackers going off, and Cynthia reprimanding the boys. The eggs began to burn. I rolled my eyes and tended to the now burnt eggs. Jordan, Tony, and Mark came down for breakfast. "Something smells amazing." said Tony. I smiled. "Cynthia started to make eggs, but the twins had a firecracker episode in the backyard, so I finished them for her." I replied. Jordan laughed. "That's my boys." he said. I rolled my eyes, and finished the eggs.