The Scroll 2

Here's a continuation of my story from yesterday. To clarify: unless I say otherwise, whatever I post on here is something that I've just barely written. So please excuse any spelling errors, plot holes, etc., and enjoy the ride. This is something you don't get to experience every day: the journey to create a story.

Without further ado, here is the next part of "The Scroll:"

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Leslie put her silky blond hair in a ponytail and regarded herself in the mirror. Her image stared back, her hazel eyes trying to read her own expressionless face. She was dressed in a grey, pink, and white workout suit, perfect for the chilly weather left by last night's storm. Leslie leaned closer to her reflection, trying to peer through the darkness of her pupils. "Today's the day," she said firmly. "Today I run five miles without stopping."

She stared at her reflection for two more minutes, trying to will confidence into her thin form. "I will do it," she whispered over and over. "I will do it." Though certain that positive thinking was at least partly a hoax, Leslie tried to shake off her uncertainties, spun around, and went downstairs.

As Leslie walked down the hallway towards the front door, a voice from the dining room yelled out, "Expelliarmus!"

Leslie shrunk in on herself, not from the spell--which wasn't real anyway--but from the voice proclaiming the spell. Taking a deep breath, Leslie turned to face the enchanter.

A girl with curly dark-brown hair sat at the dining room table, pointing a pencil at Leslie with all the rage a fourteen-year-old could muster. "You promised," the girl said.

Leslie sighed. "I know, Savannah, but you know I always run Saturday mornings. And today's a big day for me."

"I know," said Savannah, rolling her eyes. She kept the pencil aimed at Leslie's head. "It's your big five-miler today. But you promised you'd help me with my science report."

"Later" said Leslie. "I'll help you later."

Savannah scowled, adjusting the grip on her pencil so that she brandished it like a sword rather than a wand. "You stay, Orc, or I'll hunt you down."

Leslie rolled her eyes and continued down the hallway. "You're mixing stories."

"Go ahead and leave, you witch," cried Savannah as Leslie's hand touched the doorknob. "Leave winter behind you wherever you go."

"Later, Savannah, later," Leslie called back. She opened the door and ran through, slamming it behind her. She turned on her iPod Shuffle, placed her earbuds in her ears, and started running.

As Leslie ran, a feeling of freedom washed over her. The day was still young--the sun was only just peeking over the hills to the east. The sky was the deepest blue, with any clouds remaining from last night's storm reduced to tiny wisps. Leslie carried only a small backpack-like satchel containing a small water bottle, her driver's license, her cell phone, and her house key. Other than that, she was unfettered with any worldly cares. There was only the sky, the asphalt beneath her feet, soft music playing through her headphones, and the beautiful surroundings of the small northern California city Half Moon Bay. To the east, Leslie could see evergreens rising above the tops of the hills, but she turned west towards the beach. She could just make out the ocean between rows of houses, light from the sun glinting off the water.

Leslie ran the mile to Dunes Beach. There was a coastal trail for runners, but she ignored it. Instead, she slipped between the wildflower-covered dunes and descended to hte white-sand beach. The beach was deserted at this time of morning--no surfers had yet come out to play, and no seashell hunters dotted the shore. It was just Leslie and the beach. The ocean waves roared as they rushed in and out, blue tipped with white foam.

With the dune cliffs on her right, Leslie ran. Her breathing was still steady, and her legs were still strong. Her eyes automatically scanned the ground ahead of her, looking out for any unevenness on the beach that the sea had not erased.

A dark shape near the base of a dune cliff caught Leslie's eye. She jogged forward, slowing as she approached it. It was a person! Leslie had seen a few homeless people in her lifetime, but this person didn't have any baggage, any tarp for a shelter. Cautiously, Leslie stepped forward until she stood over the silent form.

It was a teenage boy. His hair was plastered with sea salt, and sand stuck to his skin. His clothes were strange--coarse brownish-green material hung in shreds on his body. His shoes looked like moccasins made from the same strange cloth.

Turning off her iPod, Leslie bent over the boy. "Hello?" she said, her voice wavering. There was no response. She reached out and poked the boy in the shoulder. His clothes were damp. Leslie placed her shaking hand over the boy's. It was cold and clammy.

Leslie jumped back, tearing her satchel off her back furiously. She reached a hand inside, clawing around until she found her cell phone. She flipped it open and dialed 9-1-1. It took three tries--her fingers didn't seem to want to work right nad hit the correct buttons. Leslie paced back and forth as the phone rang.

Finally, someone answered. "9-1-1. What is your emergency?"

"Hello? Hi, I--I'm at Dunes Beach, the State Beach, and I found a body."

"Did you say a body?"

"Yes." Leslie reached back and tugged at her ponytail. "A body. It--it's a teenage boy. Seventeen or eighteen, I think." She looked back at the body. "He looks like he washed up on shore, like--what if he was in the storm last night? What if he was swimming or on a boat and it got wrecked in the storm, and now he's here? Oh no, what if there are others?"

"Ma'am, I need you to calm down. Did you check the body? Are you sure he's dead?"

Leslie froze. "No, I--I touched him, and he was cold. But...I didn't check for a pulse or anything."

"Can you do that for me, ma'am?"

Leslie turned towards the body. It was curled in a ball, as though the boy had fallen asleep trying to stay warm. She forced herself to step back up to the body. She knelt down and placed two trembling fingers against his neck. She felt a faint throbbing against her fingertips. Leslie let out a sigh of relief.

The emergency operator's voice broke the telephone silence. "Ma'am, are you still there?"

"What?" asked Leslie. "Oh, yeah, I'm here."

"Did you check the body? Is the boy still alive?"

A weak smile flitted over Leslie's face. "Yes. And," she placed her hand under his nose. A small breeze tickled her palm. "And he's breathing. But he won't wake up. I think he's dying."

"Okay, ma'am, here's what I want you to do. You said you're at Dunes Beach?"

Leslie nodded, forgetting that the operator couldn't see her. "Yes, a little north of the parking lot. I was running on the beach."

"Are you near the shore or the cliffs?"

"We're right under the cliffs."

"Stay there. I'll send emergency vehicles to your location. Stay with the boy. Do whatever you can to keep him warm. Does the boy have any identification?"

"What?"

"Does the boy have any identification? A driver's license or a high school ID?"

Leslie scanned the boy's clothes. "No, he doesn't even have pockets."

"Okay, that's okay. Just stay with the boy. Keep him warm. You're doing a great job."

"Thanks."

"Would you like me to stay on the line until the emergency vehicle arrives?"

"No," said Leslie, kneeling in the sand. "No, I'm okay."

"Alright, ma'am. You stay calm. Help is on the way."

Leslie closed her cell phone. She slipped it into her satchel and knelt, staring at the boy. Keep him warm, she reminded herself. She tried rubbing his arms and legs, but that didn't seem to be helping. She thought about moving him away from the cliff's side, to where the sunlight was warming the beach, but she decided against it. She didn't know how hurt this boy was, and she didn't want to hurt him more. Suddenly, Leslie remembered one cold blustery autumn day when she and Savannah had huddled together for warmth. Leslie scooted closer to the boy and lay down, draping her arms around him, trying to keep this stranger warm.