Men of the Cave (Book One)
Raised by unorthodox parents, Kasey Reese has always struggled to be invisible, to not be noticed, to avoid conflict. Running from a broken relationship, Kasey flees to Spain on a scholarship, to restore the comfort she finds in anonymity. Destiny, however, has other plans for her - a life threatening, life-altering journey into the supernatural when she meets the men of the cave.
Hidden behind tall trees, I came to a small natural clearing of low grass. In this patch, the twins battled with swords. I could tell they had been at this for a while. Sweat soaked their shaggy hair. Droplets poured down their bare muscular chests. It was hard to distinguish who was who. One wore black shorts and the other blue. They grunted with every swing, and I could see all their teenage boy muscles flex when their swords struck.
“Clink, clank,” the swords sounded with each smack. Their footwork was impressive as they anticipated the other’s move. They were in a dangerous synchronized dance. I recognized the swords from research for an extensive history report. The assignment was on the Roman Coliseum and the Gladiators. The men used these swords during the mid-first century. I couldn’t believe the twins were fighting with this type of sword.
The swords were about two feet long with a diamond cut, pointed tip. They swung them around with ease and precision as if they were mere batons. Is this what these boys did for fun? One twin thrust his sword straight down toward the other, but he masterfully blocked the strike. I found it odd they fought with no shields like true Roman Gladiator would have. The twins locked with swords crossed, and the twin in blue fell to one knee. The twin in black, almost sinister said, “I have you now.”
He swung his sword over his head like a helicopter, then aimed it dead on at his brother’s chest. The twin on the floor tried to block the oncoming sword. A tragic miss. His brother’s sword plunged into his chest.
I gasped as the twin fell struggling with his last few breaths. Like a movie scene, the victor’s sword pierced through the young boy’s body. The twin fell to the ground. The sword handle stuck out of his chest and the tip out of his back.
His brother smiled and said, “Finally,” then left through a path on the other side of the clearing.
I bent over and tried to breathe. My body shook. I felt as if someone twisted my stomach like a soaked towel. I took a few steps forward and looked around. I heard nothing, only silence. I hurried to reach the brother lying dead before me.
“Martin, John…,” I whispered. The boy didn’t move. I took another step forward to see his face. As I peered over his shoulder, his haunting open eyes and mouth sent me into a complete earthquake. Panicked, I staggered backwards. My back felt the prickly sting of a Juniper tree. Then I ran. I sobbed, and sprinted as fast as I could. I anticipated seeing the winding driveway that would lead me out of this monstrous nightmare.
About the Author
Teacher, mother, and wife, not in that order. I’m an extreme Florida girl whose never seen snow. I believe white should be worn at funerals, not black. Studied at the University of Central Florida for a BA in English. If I can avoid close-toed shoes, I do. Born from Cuban immigrant parents I spoke Spanish before I spoke English. If you ever see me staring blankly into nothing, then my head is in a story.
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