Bram Stoker Award-winning author LORA SENF’s novel The Losting Fountain is a dark fantasy that follows Ember, Miles and Sam who are on a mission that will either restore a cosmic balance or destroy the dams that separate two worlds, ending them both. Read on for an extract.
EXTRACT
Chapter One
Ember
(1913)
Ember sat a few feet from the well. Close enough to have a good view of it, but not so close she would get wet. She took off her heavy boots and socks and flexed her toes in the too-tall grass. She closed her eyes as tired limbs soaked up the bright morning sun. Temporary though it might be, a warm sort of peace filled her, and she breathed in as deep as she could, expanding her chest to offer it more room.
And she waited, but not for long.
Soft music filled her head, and Ember knew it was almost time. Her heart thrummed against her rib cage. She was excited and nervous, but also relieved.
She opened her eyes to see water spilling over the rim of the well and onto the thirsty ground. If Daddy had ever thought to ask her why the grass around the well was so green, Ember could have explained it to him. Not that he would believe her. If Ember was looking for a punishment, telling Daddy about the well would be the quickest way to get there. Daddy didn’t suffer crazy.
The water poured out as it rose beyond the confines of the well. A pale, sharp-nailed hand reached over the edge. It was followed by a second hand that seemed to be holding something tightly within.
The mermaid pulled herself into the light. Her hair and skin glowed silvered ivory. Her features had an unfinished quality, and reminded Ember of stones grown smooth from a lifetime spent under the running waters of a stream. Only her eyes were sharp, wide and turquoise. They seemed to really see Ember. No one else did that any longer. Hank had always seen her but, of course, he was gone now.
The mermaid’s forearms rested on the lip of the well. Ember had never seen the visitor’s bottom half, so she was not certain mermaid was an accurate word, but it was the best one she had.
Ember only ever saw the mermaid when she was alone at the well, and not every time. The mermaid only began visiting after Hank died the previous spring. But the music had been with Ember much, much longer. Stringed instruments Ember could not name played strange melodies, gentle and cool. The music came and went, unheard by all but Ember, and it always swelled when days at home were especially bad. On those restless nights, her own private orchestra played her to sleep.
‘Hello, I’m glad you came back. I’m never sure you will. I just wish I knew who you are. Or why you’re here.’
The mermaid smiled. It had taken some time for Ember to get accustomed to that smile. The visitor’s teeth were pearl white and needle sharp. And the inside of her too-wide smile was very, very red indeed.
Like a fish, Ember thought. Like a beautiful, dangerous fish.
The mermaid did not answer. She never did. But on this day, she responded by extending her clenched right hand out toward Ember. Take it, her eyes said.
Ember considered the sharp teeth in the broad smile, and thought perhaps she should be afraid. Cautious, at least.
But she was neither of those things.
Ember approached the mermaid and extended her own hand, palm up. The mermaid dropped something small and hard into Ember’s hand, and then grasped that same hand with surprising strength. The girl and the mermaid held hands like that for a moment, a young woman’s work-worn fingers against those of a cool, soft creature. They were close enough now that Ember could smell the minerals in the water that streamed out of the mermaid’s hair and over her bare shoulders.
The music in Ember’s head became a symphony.
Ember looked into the mermaid’s ocean-coloured eyes and saw in them sadness and compassion and something else, ancient and dangerous.
But still, she was not afraid.
Later, Ember would wonder what the mermaid saw in her eyes, and if whatever she saw there was the thing that made the mermaid sad.
With a squeeze, the mermaid released Ember and, as quickly as she had appeared, was gone. She slipped back into the well and back to wherever she was from. The water stopped running over, returning to its proper level. The music subsided, but did not disappear.
Ember looked at the object the mermaid had given her. It was a small stone, the size of a quail’s egg, deep burgundy with silver streaks running throughout. The stone was cold and damp from the mermaid’s touch.
Ember had received few gifts in her life, and this was by far the most special. It was not every day one received a present from an impossible friend.
Ember sat back in the grass, turning the stone over and inspecting it from every angle. As best she could tell, it was just a rock, albeit a pretty one. She would later notice no matter how much sun fell on it, or how long she held it in her hands – and she frequently would, even in her sleep – the stone never warmed.
It was a pretty rock. And a special one. And, soon, it would be important.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lora Senf is the author of The Clackity, the first book in the ‘Blight Harbor’ Novels (Atheneum Books for Young Readers, 2022), with Bram Stoker Award winning novel, The Nighthouse Keeper and The Loneliest Place to follow. The Clackity is a Junior Library Guild selection, a Cybils Award finalist in the Elementary/Middle Grade Speculative Fiction category, is on the New York Public Library’s Best Books for Kids 2022 list, was the only middle grade title on Esquire’s list of the 22 Best Horror Books of 2022, and is a nominee for the inaugural Bram Stoker Award for Superior Achievement in a Middle Grade Novel.
0 Comments