Worlds of Ash

Worlds of Ash (Chapters 1-5)

Chapter One

Ash scurried past laced iron, thick oak, and metal screws. Spending any time beneath the bleachers of her school gym was never a good idea, but sometimes she didn't have a choice. She would just have to be fast, and somehow still expertly manage this grand obstacle course, before she got hurt.

What was at her feet didn't help to make things better. Dirt and dust was there, this forever sticky mess that obsessively clung to her shoes and made her certain she was about to get stuck for good. But today, somehow, such an obstacle course was reminding Ash of why she loved her grandfather so. Maybe that was even what was causing her to go slow?

The afternoon sun, how it was catching specks of dust that had decided not to remain on the floor, could only be admired at a leisurely pace. Sure, that also meant that that same dust would hit her arms, or stick to her legs, but Ash didn't care. Since she'd never put her name down for any after-school activity, Ash had always been able to keep wearing whatever she'd picked out before she'd left her house. This day it was a nice short-sleeved yellow shirt, dark black jeans, and white sneaker combination that always felt a comfort. It was one of her most favorite outfits.

Of course, at the moment, one of her most favorites was getting filthy, but, again, Ash didn't care. She was enjoying that dust-and the sun...and everything-too much to be bothered.

Each speck in that light made the laced iron shadowy, the thick oak somber. It was so different from what was above-as if a hidden magic had allowed her to step into another world-how could she ever hurry when soft tiptoes was so much better.

And that was exactly what was reminding her of her grandfather. The man didn't swing by all that often. Her grandfather-or Poppa Henry, that was what he did love to be called-didn't have a concrete job, or a concrete home, that Ash knew of. Such things had always kept him busy and away.

Better put, her Poppa Henry gallivanted about-not her words, just what she would overhear whenever her father mumbled a few complaints. One time, she'd even heard her father yell at her Poppa Henry about why, exactly, he'd taken a job way up in Alaska and then, another time, just why Poppa Henry had been investigating an opportunity to sell something all the way over in France.

But none of that had really mattered. When everything her father had to say would finally finish up, her Poppa Henry would never forget to stop by her room, Ash's heart held in thrall as he softly-and after only a quick detour to see her little brother Peter-would tiptoe to her bedside. Her Poppa Henry would whisper if his "Little Ash" was awake, and when Ash would smile a "yes," his stories would begin.

Epic tales of a land called Penthya-a land surrounded by the Cliffs of Random and the Marsh of Lumbrica, a land of magic and adventure, of Light Benders and Dwarves, Wind Weavers and Giants, it would all spill like honey from his lips. As Ash would slowly fall back into sleep, he would weave golden spun dreams, his voice the sweetest lullaby filled with Elves and Fawns who would dance with her as lute-filled music echoed deep within her mind.

It was the main reason why Ash had chosen Ash as her preferred name. In all fullness, she was Amanda Jane Ash. Going by Amanda, or Jane, probably would have made much more sense but Ash adored her preference and soon it stuck.

Let her little brother Peter deal with just being Peter, let her mother stick with Rachel-it was even okay that her father had chosen Steven for himself and had never changed his mind about that-because Ash was hers. It was so linked to Little Ash, and to her Poppa Henry's stories about Penthya, that, honestly, what other name could ever be better?

Sure, a few Penthyan stories-like poor Princess Isabella and her savage murder-went far into scary and dark, but it was a scary Ash was never bothered by. Even the way a Thorish could slip while walking up a Swinging Spire, or how an Errun could steal away children for nightmare work in the Western Wilds, was wonderful to hear about. Penthya was a land that could turn wrong, yet that wrong always led back to heroes and bravery and many a perfect moment where there was never any fear or doubt. If Ash could just escape her own world to slip inside such a place, she knew she too could face something horrid-maybe even an Errun-only to rise above and shine.