My Recycled Soul (A Sample)

Sean announces with great excitement, "We are moving."

I look at him shocked. "Where?" I feel my mom's hand on my shoulder tighten encouragingly.

" To Ireland," he beams.

" When did this happen?" I ask in disbelief. This cannot be happening to me. Not now. Not today.

" Your mom and I have been discussing it for a while, and we made the decision last week. I have made a few phone calls and everything just fell into place."

I feel fear push up in my chest, from the immense despondency suddenly filling me like a flash flood, permeating every cell in my body. I move away from my mom, mumbling, "I am going to my room. Homework."

Moving away from my mom, I feel her hand drop from my shoulders. I sense she wants to say something. Something to encourage me, to motivate me, but I do not want to hear what she has to say. I need to be alone.

As I climb the stairs to my room, thoughts rush through my mind: we are moving not just house or city, but country.

Sean has Irish ancestors and his great, extremely great grandfather was a lord of some importance about a million years ago. Unfortunately, being the only son, he inherited an apparent manor in the west of Ireland from his dad last year. A house that has been in his family since the time of this great grandfather and this is where we will be moving to now.

In the weeks that follow, I start having the strangest dreams. My friend, Rebecca, says it is my subconscious trying to prepare me for the future.

Although I try to hold onto these dreams, to try and make sense of them, they escape my mind as fast as water down a blocked drain. They linger for a few days at the back of my mind, and then they melt away, forgotten.

In my first dream, I am dressed in a funny medieval kind of dress and my hair is tied up in twisting braids on top of my head. I am crying despondently. The sobs shudder through my body until I become aware of someone watching me. I look up, but I do not recognise the boy looking down at me. He has dark curly hair, intense blue eyes, and his lips match his rosy cheeks perfectly. He has the face of an angel. Looking up at him, I feel a sense of peace settle over me.

I sob, "Who are you?"

" Devlin." He says casually as if I should know who he is.

" What do you want?"

He does not reply, but he sits down onto the fallen tree trunk beside me while looking at me sympathetically.