Ghost Book One: The Earth Transformed

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Floating.

Lighter than a feather on a warm spring breeze. Just hanging there.

Blue and green. The colors of life.

Peaceful.

Then, clouds. Terrible clouds.

I didn’t see them — didn’t hear any thunder — but they had to be there. There could be no other explanation for the lightning that shot through me. One bolt, straight down from the top of my skull and out through my soles, splintering as it went, stabbing out through every neuron, every pore.

My body tensed, muscles spasming, back arching almost to the breaking point. My bones burned. I tried to breathe, but something sour filled my mouth. Nettles dragged across my tongue. I jackknifed up, liquid splashing around me, metallic air cold on my skin.

It didn’t quench the fire in my cells.

I flailed for balance as the world moved under me, then I fell to a freezing floor, all metal and slippery with viscous glop. I tried to get up, but my hands slid away. I coughed up a throatful of something foul, then swiped a hand over my face, clearing thick gel from my eyes. I had to squeeze it out of my hair.

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