Pink Spades a Fantasy Fiction
(Excerpt: Part 2 of 4)
Aleasha Whitney Wilson is a Loveland High School graduate who studied liberal arts at UC Raymond Walters College and Fine Arts/Drawing at Northern Kentucky University. She decided to take a long break from schooling to pursue her goal of writing a novel.
That novel became the fantasy adventure, Pink Spades. The story surrounds a group of young, aspiring musicians that the main character meets after her move to Tokyo, Japan. While chasing their dream of becoming a famous rock band, they encounter a coven of immortal creatures called Akaijin that need their help bringing their kind out of the shadows. They all come to learn that their meeting wasn't by coincidence, but fated to come into being.
Read part 1 of Pink Spades and learn how to help Wilson raise the funds she needs to publish her novel. Follow Pink Spades at Twitter, FaceBook, and join the Pink Spades Facebook Group.
Introduction to Part 2
Aseila Geraldi is a music major studying in Tokyo, Japan while her mother Debra handles the affairs of her fashion franchise there. Aseila struggles to become accustomed to the foreign lifestyle, but finds solace in the hopes of becoming the lead singer of the local band Pink Spades. After a long day of classes, she tells Debra about the band and she encourages her to audition, before laying down for a nap. While asleep, she has a strange dream about a mysterious man that claims to know her from a past life.
Pink Spades
by Aleasha Whitney Wilson
Part 1
Debra poked her face into Aseila's doorway and smiled sweetly, wearing a white bath towel. “Hey babe, you’re finally awake!” She exclaimed. “Yeah.” Aseila replied, not sounding very enthused. Debra trotted away into the bathroom down the hall, while she scrambled out of bed. Scenes from the dream persistently popped into mind. The pondering young woman quickly slipped on her pink sneakers and grabbed her black jean jacket off of the closet door. She needed some fresh air. And a cigarette.
The faint sound of the shower going came from the bathroom, as she swept down the hall. Aseila loved the sound of water falling, it calmed her nerves. She stopped walking and lingered
in the hall to listen to the shower for a moment. Debra was singing an old Patsy Cline song. Her daughter smiled to herself while she listened briefly. It was song about walking after midnight searching for someone. Without leaving a note to say where she was going, Aseila left the apartment. She could hear the sounds from their neighbor’s homes, as she went for the building's exit. Small family’s laughed together at the television, smells and sounds of food cooking on the stoves invaded her senses, couples argued with one another, and house pets barked or meowed. The door gave a loud creak as it slid open, adding more noise to the scene. When it closed, all the noise ceased entirely, as if by magic. It was a quiet night in Chiyoda, surprisingly. The area was known for being busy with tourists visiting the many government buildings and the shops there. It seemed the only form of life that accompanied Aseila, on her street anyway, was the full moon overhead.
Aseila sighed and shoved a hand into her jean pocket to fish out her cigarettes. She lit one and inhaled its toxins hungrily. The cool air felt nice against her face. It was calming as the many questions passed through her mind. Could she actually audition for this band? She wondered at random. Would Debra just have them move again? Should she just go for it anyway and see what happens? What if this could be an excuse for them to stay in Japan? Or better yet, what if Debra found an excuse to stay as well? What if Japan wasn't the right place for the two of them? Aseila could only hope that they would find a true home together. The smoke escaped through her nostrils as she pondered and leaned forward with her elbows propped atop the black iron fence that surrounded the building. The young woman stared into the night, thinking incessantly, with a far-off look in her eyes.
The young woman finished the cigarette, then suddenly decided that the front yard wasn't good enough to soothe her racing mind. Hastily, Aseila opened the gate and stepped through. She still wasn't exactly familiar with the area, so she didn't plan on going far. Debra would probably freak when she realized her absence, the girl predicted, but she did have her cell phone on her...and a tube of mace in case she were randomly attacked or something. The cold air felt nice against her face as she walked along the sidewalk. She sighed deeply at the sensation, hands shoved deep into the pockets of her jacket. The bounce in her step made her fiery red hair flutter softly against her shoulders.
She turned a corner on the right, as she raised her head to gaze up at the brilliant moon. The young woman's eyes bore into it longingly. She could never put a finger on it, but every night she spotted the moon, she felt so at peace and somewhat tortured at the same time. A gentle smile formed about her lips and a glimmer of sadness entered her eyes. So hauntingly beautiful was the moon, with its brightness and somewhat surreal appearance. And how painful it was to see something so glorious loom over the world. That same brightness gloated at its spectators, announcing to them its superiority and its value to the universe. The moon had its purpose already, the girl noted silently. It had a place in the great scheme of life. It had a home, a life routine. The moon didn't need to fight or strive for any wants or needs. It possessed everything it ever wanted, unlike some of the people in the world. To be that comfortable and to seemingly live the carefree, perfect life, is most definitely something to be coveted. Then again, no one really knew the moon. What if it hated its life of servitude? What if it abhorred only being permitted to roam around the Earth's body? Furthermore, did the moon even have emotions? Did God create it as a living thing? Most would say no, but how could something so important and so beautiful only be an inanimate object?
Before Aseila could think further about those questions, a surprising sight stole her attention. There to the left, across the street, was a collection of trees. A lot of them were bare, due to the changing weather, but one was more captivating than the rest. Aseila didn't know much about plantlife or their names and such, but she did know one thing. That tree very closely resembled the one from her dream. It's trunk looked frighteningly abnormal, with its twisted form. The tree appeared to have two halves. The parts spiraled and weaved into one another, all the way from the tree's base to its canopy. The street lamps nearby allowed her eye to catch this detail along with the red hue of its leaves. Her stomach turned as she stood frozen on the sidewalk, gawking at it. Then as if her legs had minds of their own, they moved toward the small forest hurriedly. The fall leaves on the ground crunched loudly beneath Aseila's shoes, as she drew nearer to the mysterious tree. The student's heart raced frantically, slightly wary of her surroundings. How was it that this tree's leaves hadn't fallen yet, when most of all the other's had?
Aseila exhaled deeply, as she propped her back against the tree. Eyes closed and face turned skyward, the girl inhaled the cool air. Her hands rested lightly at her sides, allowing her fingers to feel the tree's bark. How she longed once more to be like the moon or this tree! So secure they were in their niches; never to be moved. Too much uncertainty hung in the air; in her future. Another pang of jealousy filled the young woman, as the need for security gradually became more important than anything else. She gave an exasperated sigh and fished out another cigarette, only to be interrupted once more by a peculiar sighting.
A dark figure emerged from the cluster of leafless tree trunks. From the outline, the form appeared to be a mans. Aseila stiffened, flashes of the dream clouding her brain again. Would it come true? The situation was all too similar. He was about thirty feet away, gazing at the moon, as if he were pondering something too, and seemingly oblivious of her presence. He wore all black clothing, like the man from the dream.
Stay tuned to Loveland Magazine to read Part 3 and 4.
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