About the Book
Title: Spirit Vision 3: The Power of Mortals
Author: Morgan Straughan Comnick
Genre: Paranormal Romance
"You are the beacon of the Lord’s two worlds, but how can you protect them when you have lost your shining light?
When Stary Moon, the Spirit Warrior, awakes on the lunchroom floor of her school, battered and bloodied, she cannot recollect how she came to such a state.
Stary ignores the concerns of her best friends, Chloe, Rin, and Lauren, and continues to go on with her life, but no matter how normal her days and Spirit Warrior duties are, she feels a lingering sorrow like someone is missing from her life. Her friends discover some shocking truths about Stary and realize they’re the only ones who remembers Umbra—Stary’s boyfriend who has mysteriously gone missing. Stary’s universe crashes around her and the fate of the world rests on her shoulders.
Her objective is clear, but when she leaves on this mission, there is no turning back, and she will lose one of her worlds—the mortal world of her family and friends, or the spiritual world of her duty and missing someone, for good. Still, Stary has a point to prove to this dark presence that is threatening to consume the planet: there is power from those one least expects, and Stary is prepared to risk everything on this claim."
Educator of young minds by day, super nerdy savior of justice and cute things by night, Morgan Straughan Comnick has a love for turning the normal into something special without losing its essence. Morgan draws from real life experiences and her ongoing imagination to spark her writing. In her spare time, she enjoys doing goofy voices, traveling to new worlds by turning pages, humming child-like songs, and forcing people to smile with her "bubbliness." It is Morgan's mission in life to spread the amazement of otaku/Japanese culture to the world and to stop bullying; she knows everyone shines brightly.
To learn more visit at the following:
Youtube Channel: Sakurastar07
I felt like I needed reassurance.
I clicked the volume up on our remote controlled door ringer so I could hear customers if they came in. I ventured to the back of the massive building, the walls slowly going from drywall to brick and then hard concrete. It was like I was stepping through time, the walls welcoming me to the past and yearning to tell me of their adventures as observers. When I made it to the back room, the vintage room, I was surrounded with colorful garments from the 1940’s to 1980’s, organized on racks by categories with my mom’s bright and adorable handmade signs. This popular section was my mom’s pride and joy, showing off the eras that helped raise her and inspire her loving, creative soul. Shoppers found it charming, a rare, hidden gem, and they would get authentic, period pieces for costume parties.
There was, however, one other reason this room was a sweet retreat and bitter entrapment.
That is why I was here at this moment.
Sure enough, I was not disappointed at the insanity they saw. I saw the flash of fabric at the corner of my vision despite the fact I had been staring at the floor to mentally brace myself. At turtle speed, I lifted my head at the entryway to this part of the puzzle pieced together store that was my mom’s. There, I witnessed three dresses flying in a whirlwind circle that made me dizzy. A red and white checkered hoedown dress was ripped off the display wall from a sudden gale, swirling into the crazy above me, its poor, lacey underskirt frills flapping embarrassingly. A green 80’s dress and blue bellbottoms joined the fray, this rainbow trapped in a spin cycle making my stomach clench.
Wait for the wig…
On cue, a rubber, black wig dolled up in a classy fashion was tossed into the air, the calling card for my so called troublemaker, one whose mischief needed to be managed.
The wig stopped its trampoline routine, hovering three feet over from the robin-egg hued carpet. The other wigs in the costume props bin vibrated, their metal clinking like the rattling of bones. I heard something that sounded like an irritated grunt and a pouting whine, one that signaled me to continue.
I plastered my calm, nurturing smile on my face, my voice becoming breathy, patient teacher mode kicking in, “Hi Natasha, I hope you’re doing good today.” I pointed upward, grinning at the parade of dresses soaring through the air. “I’m impressed with the show you did. I know it's lonely today, but in case we get any customers, we don’t want the clothes to get ruined. Do you think you could put them down for me, please Natasha?”
There was a pause, the air heavy with her thoughts and the ectoplasma energy she was producing. A few long seconds rolled by, neither one of us backing down.
As the inky, shadowy mirror to other places vanished into smoke, a rumbling was heard off where the lightning bolt had landed a moment earlier. The remaining stones that were not carried off by the harsh storm winds were now jumping, hopping up three feet as if they were on fire. The earth shook, triggering an end to Rin’s shield as her cards lost their vibes, their vividness, and let out an ear shattering whistle. The barrier of red shattered in its pitch-like shards of blooded glass. Rin fell forward straight as a board, Lauren catching her waist from behind. Chloe tapped Rin’s cheeks to get her out of her groggy state.
I called to my comrades, but I was only able to take one set of running steps before the ground cracked and began to fault under me. The vibrating pulses coming from the lightning bolt’s strike making it hard to think, to move, to not hurl. It was like being trapped in an isolation room with the bass in your ears and someone behind-the-scenes was in control of your destiny, cranking up the bass to the highest level. I was shocked my head had not exploded, gory images from one of her game club buddies’ favorites, Mortal Kombat, wedging repulsion into me. I shook at the graphics I was placing in the curves of my mind!
The shaking ceased slowly and the rumbling became a low murmur, but it was still hard to focus. I perked my ears, sensing too many vibes at once, so many that it was making my eyeballs try to go into the back of my head like a freaky horror film. It was then I realized that the mumbles were not from an aftershock quake, but were actual voices blending into a zombie choir of incoherence, but it still sent a shiver of fear down my spine. From the smoke and the raining of ashes from the gaping crisp hole of the lightning landing, looking similar to the portal Queen Grave had appeared from at school a few days prior, emerged a stampede of creatures. It was an army spotting flickering black and purple strobe light auras, dozens upon dozens of them with determined, vile faces and blank pupils, scarves of wet ivy tangled around them…
As I tried to control my bladder, a realization dawned: now I know how Simba felt.
These must be Queen Grave’s troop that Rico and Maybelle warned me about. And their eyes are hollow white…Possession! She’s controlling these restless ghosts and confused spirits with her vines and magic. That explains the unstable black and red aura of evil and loss of control. I deduced, although, right now, keep all of us alive was my biggest worry.
Possessed ghost zombies. Wow, that was actually a new one.
He began wringing his hands together in intense, rapid motions, his long fingers twisting into themselves. “Oh, angels are not supposed to tell mortals about the life they had before they were angels, if they were granted angelhood. It is in Angelic to Earthly law, stanza 440-72…”
Heather patted Jacob’s hands tenderly, her now cerulean-toned fingernails sparkling blindingly in the spotlight we were granted from the canopy. Slowly, his eyes drowning with deep emotion seemed to mute their dark brown tone. She gave him a gentle, closed smile, a motherly look of understanding. A desire to help twinkled in her pupil. “You’re anxious. You’re wringing your hands again. No need to be. I know you’re a rule follower Jacob, but Stary is the Spirit Warrior. She wasn’t supposed to tell anyone her secret and yet, these mortals were meant to know. I think it’s so nice that she wants to know about our story. Usually, we are the helpers. For once, let’s allow someone to care for us.”
Jacob nodded slowly, a solemn pinch in his cheeks, but an accepting grin was creeping up on him as he addressed us. “Heather, you’re such a troublemaker, but I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have you with me.” His beam exploded then, twinkling like a heavenly body as he gave her a friendly, beyond-words glance.
Heather cupped her hand over her lip-glossed sparkled mouth, going into a fury fit of giggles that made her face rose-hued, her freckles almost hopping off her cheeks from excitement for getting praised by her partner. “I know I’m a troublemaker, but hey! I’m cute and everyone loves me!”
With this, we all joined her chorus in with laughs all our own, making a harmony, a connection, between the world of the living, the world touched by the light of Heaven. Chloe was complimenting Heather on her glittery, ever changing nail-polish, the two exchanging tips- I would have to ask them later how angels even wore make-up later- as we settled down, munching on our meal again. Our group was preparing ourselves for a storytime that would soar into our hearts like wings forever.
Jacob had agreed to tell most of the story and Heather would add in details if need be. Stroking his sixth dragon ball patch on his pants pocket, Jacob began, sweeping us up into his world. “Just to clarify before we begin: Heather and I were, once mortals like you, normal teenagers before fate took our life away.” He swallowed silently, but the pressure it put on him was easy to detect. Even Heather lowered her head, a forlorn expression passing over her face, but it vanished quickly, like the waves crashing gently against the shoreline before being pulled back with the tides. Jacob went on, deciding with a stronger voice that it wasn’t necessary for us to share in their sadness.