The Wishing Well

Chapter 8

Author's Note: Thank you guys so much for making me dust off this manuscript again to read it! It's crazy to think something I wrote so long ago is actually so coherent. Since this was supposed to be the first of at least two books, I'll be thinking of the sequel as I update!

Who is your favorite character so far? Why? Any suggestions you guys could offer on the way would help a ton! Thanks :-)

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The schoolhouse loomed as they approached it, intimidating her with its sheer size. Then she thought of all the people that might be there. She didn't want to go in, but was curious as to what would happen. Could it be any worse than it had been at home? Perhaps so, but she wanted to find out herself. She was going to the asylum, anyway—may as well make a grand exit.

Olivia’s eyes darted over to the well; today it was not glowing.

The voice in her head kept repeating the same thing, as if reading a passage over and over. Had she been in the right state of mind, Olivia might have found the story interesting.

He let go, and watched the wolf strap fall into the blaze, almost in slow motion. He watched it wither quickly, but knew that it would reappear somewhere. “It always returns. That is not the way to be rid of it. Of course. The fires of hell do not destroy evil. They keep it within their grasp, letting the condemned one suffer for eternity. Why would a fire here on earth do any different?”

Olivia listened, her eyes fixed unseeingly on the things around her. Bookshelves. Elisabeth Wilder's strange painting. A snack table by the door. The kids in the back room offered her little more than a glance. They didn't really care about her being here, so they wouldn't notice her absence either.

Olivia searched the room for Ian. He was huddled in the far corner with a laptop, hard at work. She didn't want to disturb him, and probably wouldn't be the best choice for a conversation either.

Averil handed her a paper plate with a doughnut. Olivia thanked her and went to sit in the same spot as last night, where she ate halfheartedly. She gazed at the people, thinking about how nothing was unusual for them today. They were all doing fine except Olivia.

He felt everyone hold their breath. Soon the wolf strap was a pile of charred fur in the midst of the fire.

Since she was in a foul mood, the chocolate doughnut tasted like paper. Maybe she ought to think more about the mystery, the well, Averil's mom...

Funny, said the voice in her head suddenly. Sounds like Olivia. She's interested in all those things. Maybe it's rubbing off on me.

Her eyes snapped open. “What?” she mumbled. “What about Olivia?”

What do you mean, what about Olivia? She must've arrived by now. Oh yeah—there she is, against the wall there.

Wait a minute. Yes. I am against the wall here. What's going on? Olivia scanned the crowd; only one person seemed to know she was here. Ian frowned at her over the screen of his computer.

Suddenly she got an idea that was absurd. No, she thought, turning away quickly. No, it can't be!

There was dead silence. Finally, one more paragraph.

“I will no longer serve the devil,” he whispered. “It can return, but I shall not put it on. I will stay in the body God created for me, and pray for Him to accept me back. There is a way. It has not been found yet.” Slowly, he looked up at his listeners once more. “If you are with me, you shall do the same. If not, you are banished from my pack. Leave in the form you have chosen. I will not see the likes of you.”