1st 5 Pages June Workshop - Kondryuk Rev 2

Name: Lana Kondryuk
Genre: Young Adult Urban Fantasy
Title: MOLFAR

Pitch:

Ian Hill is a dud. Despite being the first male in a long line of witches, his sixteenth birthday has come and gone without even a hint of power. Any power. He would’ve settled for levitating pencils.

Condemned to a dull suburban existence and working at his mom’s pagan supply store, Ian has given up hope—that is, until he meets Violet, a talented witch who awakens his power as well as his raging hormones. Welcome to the world of telepathic trees, killer shadows, and ghost pet cats.

As soon as Ian receives his unique —and practically extinct—tree-whispering Gift, the Dark Soul Stealers are after it. To make matters worse, Ian ruins his budding relationship with Violet by “borrowing” her treasured book of spells for a shortcut to master more magic. Violet disappears from his life, and without her training, Ian fails to prevent the Dark Soul Stealers from destroying his hometown and making his mom gravely ill. As he races to save his mom and to find Violet, his adversaries present him with an impossible deal: his mother’s and Violet’s lives in exchange for his soul.

Revision 2:

When your mom is a walking lie detector, you master the art of withholding the truth.

Sitting in a shade of a mighty oak, I grab the next sack full of herbs and tie it so tightly the twine stings my hands.

Since Mom keeps canceling my plans every time a high holiday rolls around, dooming my social life in the process, I feel zero guilt about sneaking out tonight. Midsummer—Litha, as witches call it—may be in a few days, but Rick’s end of school party is tonight. Mom knew I’d be missing it when she sent me on a three-day plant harvesting trip to Gram’s cabin in The-Middle-Of-Nowhere, Poconos.

I planned well; even Mom’s internal lie detector won’t pick up on this. And if she does find out, the worst she can do is make me work overtime at her store. I practically live there already—what’s a few more hours?

I bind the sacks together and hoist them onto my shoulder. My phone vibrates in my pocket. I fish it out and read the text from Denis Gorash, the self-proclaimed Mayor of Chornohora’s Senior Class: Ian, everyone but you has confirmed. You gonna make it to Rick’s tonight?

Everyone includes Samantha Lawrence—my reason for breaking the rules today. Day one of junior year’s French class, when Sam waltzed over and sat in the chair next to mine, I was a goner. She threw her long, honey-blond hair over her shoulder and said, “Bonjour.” I’m pretty sure time stopped for a while. 

Before I type my response, my phone buzzes with the second text. This one isn’t from Denis. So you aren’t coming. Can’t blame you. Gotta suck knowing Sam’s my date tonight.

My jaw tightens. “You bastard,” I mutter.

Paul Carter, that filthy-rich, self-absorbed, gym-dwelling, hair-gelling moron. He’s got muscles to make Schwarzenegger jealous and a wallet full of cards with six digit limits. Girls are lining up for him, but he’s chasing Sam. And only because I like her. Just when I finally work up the courage to ask Sam out, Paul ups his game. Coincidence much? I can’t believe we used to be friends. 

You bet, I reply to Denis. Determined to spoil Paul’s evening, I tuck my phone into my backpack and head out of the oak grove. Clear skies and warm summer wind hissing between the rocks promise a perfect night for a party.

In the first clearing, the wind snatches my baseball cap and hurls into the thorny brush. Crap. With a grunt, I drop my sacks on the ground and climb into the prickly bushes to get my stupid hat. Then I freeze. Scarlet flowers with fuzzy purple leaves shaped like the wings of a Phoenix sway beside my worn blue baseball cap.

I hold my breath and look closer. Then I close my eyes and open them up again—the legendary Phoenix Flame is still there. It looks exactly like the drawings in Gram’s old books. All those botany lessons Gram forced on me no longer seem like a waste. If only she were here to witness this. I can’t believe I’ve found the mythical plant that can unlock the body’s ability to heal itself even if one is an inch from death! This is every witch’s dream, and I’m the one who gets to live it. Me. The guy who was skipped by his family witch gene.

My pulse pounds in my head as I position my fingers an inch above the ground to snap the stem, but then I pause.

The curse.

The legend warns that only those chosen by the flower may harvest it; all others will die violent deaths. Uncertainty creeps into my mind. Do I dare? The worth of one flower can sponsor my college education. I’d be richer than Paul and never have to work at The Moon Goddess again. I’d finally get to make my own decisions. I can almost savor the sweet taste of independence, but a violent death would put a damper on my plans.

“Damnit,” I mumble and leer at the flower. I just can’t get a break. I’ve never been lucky; haven’t even won a dollar playing the scratch-off lottery. But this, hands down, is the worst snub of my life. To be so close yet so far.

The whole curse thing is probably bogus since no one’s seen this plant in centuries. How do we know there ever was one? Not all stories are true. If they were, all witches would sport warts, fly on their brooms, and cook disobedient children for dinner.

But let’s say the legend is true. It can’t be a coincidence that my hat blew right to the Phoenix Flame; the flower has to have chosen me. This is my chance to make something happen; to decide for myself.

I push my shoulders back.  I’ll only take one, just one from a dozen. Enough for my college tuition and a new ride. And I can always come back for more, now that I know where to find them.

Before my resolve fades, I snap the stem of one plant, roll it up in my baseball cap, and hide it inside my shirt. There’s no way I’m parting with it, not even for a second.

Hoisting the sacks over my shoulder, I hurry out of the woods, grinning. My steps and spirits are light until I reach the meadow.

A powerful gust of wind makes me take a few steps back and then lean forward to keep my balance. Dark clouds swarm the skies, blocking out the sun. Angry lightning bolts slice through them and echo with ear-splitting thunder. This can’t be good. I was so enthralled by the Phoenix Flame that I didn’t even notice the storm coming.

I scan the meadow for shelter and spot a protected area between the rocks. But then I remember the party. If I get stuck on this mountain for hours, I’ll miss it. Images of Paul Carter kissing Sam invade my mind, and all of a sudden getting to the party becomes more important than dodging lightning bolts.

Ignoring all self-preservation instincts, I press my treasure-filled baseball hat tighter to my chest and dash for the path that snakes down the mountain.

The heavens open, releasing a torrential downpour. I slip and slide in mud. When I pass a boulder that looks like a turtle, I know the ledge is dangerously close. Swearing loudly, I latch onto a young oak and come to a halt. But the ground under my feet breaks off, like a piece of soft chocolate cake, and slides down the mountain, taking me with it.

My heart drops into my stomach. Letting go of the sacks, I frantically grab at plants and roots to slow my fall. Sharp rocks cut into my skin, and dull waves of pain rush through my ribs and knees. The next bump knocks the wind out of me and sends me into the air. I hover for a second in a state of weightlessness, gasping, and then land on a large stone. My head smashes against something hard and then everything goes black.

#

I awake to pain tearing through my body. When I open my eyes, my surroundings swim in a gray haze. Slowly, the shapes come into focus. Dancing flames on wax-dripping candles cast shadows on mud walls. Plants hang suspended from the ceiling in bunches. My heart starts pounding. Where the hell am I?