The Word Sanctuary

Part 1

Emmy Aspen closed her eyes.

Closing her eyes was something she did a lot nowadays. It made her feels loads better when she was in a difficult situation, which she usually was in. Lots had happened to her these past few weeks, lots that changed her life. When she closed her eyes, she was away from her life, from her elephant-sized problems. Her therapist back in Michigan had given her that strategy, and it worked in most situations. But now?

Even that couldn't block out car sickness.

Emmy's dad stopped the car and turned around in his seat. "Emmy?" he asked. "Are you okay? We're here."

Emmy slowly opened her eyes. The car had stopped in front of a house. A really old house. Though it wasn't one of those creepy, haunted-by-ghosts kind of homes, it was still old. Cobwebs lined the windowsills and the glass on the windows were covered in grime. The wood that made up the house was old, and in some spots the wood was rotting. There was a smell of something burning coming from the house, too.

Old or not, Emmy hated it. She liked things to be simple and neat, not old and rusty.

She got out of the car, and went through the door with her dad.

The inside wasn't any better. It was still really old and dusty, and the appliances inside were all so dated. The light switches didn't work either. All in all, to Emmy, the house just seemed empty. Like a broken heart.

Emmy's dad frowned, as if thinking the same thing. "Well, it did look better online." But then his face broke into a smile. "Nothing a good paint job won't fix. Hey, why don't you scout for a room, Emmy? It'll give you something to do."

So Emmy went up the stairs in search of a bedroom. She found one at the end of the hall.

Or more like the best room in the house.

There were no cobwebs or dust bunnies, no old stuff. It was simple and neat. Just like Emmy liked. And though it was empty, it didn't feel empty. In fact, it felt open and welcoming.

Emmy dropped the backpack she'd been holding, and began to unpack. Maybe some of her things would make the room feel more homey. She put her books in one corner, her sheets in another, and left place for a bed. Then, at the bottom, she took out a picture. One of her dead mother.

She left that in the bag.

Emmy went back downstairs, where her dad was bringing in luggage. He seemed so happy about the move.

He and her mother had been talking about moving to California since, well, forever. They always said it was the one thing that would complete their bucket list.

That was before Emmy's mother got cancer.

That was before Emmy stopped talking.

Emmy's dad spotted her at the bottom of the stairs. "Oh, there you are. Done already?" Emmy nodded. "Well," her dad said, "you could go exploring. You know, meet the neighbors."

Emmy did not want to meet the neighbors.

But soon enough, she was out in the warm summer air.

There was a thicket behind her house, and Emmy decided that was better than going around meeting new people. The neighbors could wait.

The woods were nice, actually. They were calming, peaceful, quiet. Although Emmy's world was loud, she always preferred quiet.

Soon, though, a loud scratching noise. Softly, at first, but then it got loud. Very loud.

Emmy's palms got sweaty. She walked forward, though at a slow pace, careful not to step on any tree roots. As she progressed into the thicket, the scratching got very loud. Emmy's breathing got ragged. What was there? And suddenly, out of nowhere, a tree appeared. A cloaked figure seemed to stand behind it, but after seeing her, it disappeared.

Emmy thought this was especially strange. And creepy.

She suddenly got curious about this tree, and began to look for what the cloaked figure might have left behind.

She found it soon after.

Six sharp, hurting words, scraped on the trunk of the tree.

YOUR WORDS WILL BE LOST FOREVER

Emmy's breath left her body. Who would vandalize a tree? That was such a horrible thing to do, a crime. And the worst part was that the words seemed to be aimed right at her, each more loud and thunderous than the last.

Your words will be lost forever.

"Oh my goodness," breathed a voice behind her.

Emmy whirled around to see a beautiful woman standing behind her, one hand over her mouth. The woman had soft hazel eyes, like Emmy's, but her hair was brown and slightly curly, unlike Emmy's blonde-brown wavy hair. Her skin was a light tan color. The woman seemed strange, but somehow, her presence seemed a bit... well, comforting.

The woman made her way to the tree, looking absolutely petrified. Emmy watched in stunned silence as she examined the tree. "Oh dear," she whispered. "Who... where... how?" She turned to Emmy, as if knowing her all along. "What are we going to do?"

The woman looked genuinely afraid, and Emmy sincerely wanted to help, but didn't know how to say so. Usually, she just stayed silent and listened to people. But though she didn't know this woman, she felt as though she needed to help. The woman could be able to help me. She might know what to do.

As if reading her mind, the woman spoke to her: "What? What do you need help with? Are you a Protector?"

Emmy shook her head, half not knowing what the woman was talking about, half in shock about the woman reading her mind.

"Oh." The woman looked deep into Emmy's eyes. "You look... familiar. Are you sure you aren't a Protector?"

Emmy shook her head once again.

Then, all of a sudden, the woman gasped loudly. "You're Annabelle's girl."

Emmy's eyes widened at the mention of her mother's name. But she didn't have the time to think-ask the woman how she knew her mother. The woman had promptly taken her by the hand. "Come with me. I have things to show you." The woman then murmured something unintelligible. "Count down from ten." the woman said. And with that, Emmy's world began to dissipate.