The 9th Symbol

Synopsis


Rose is a princess, a Cinder, and half-human. She is the last one born of her kind, and on her twenty-first birthday, she must enter the woods and travel to find her Prince, as her sisters did before her. ". . . And we will all dance at the Grand Ball," her sisters would always say. But the Human servants are keeping a secret that could prevent the Cinders from reaching their Happily Ever After....

Hidden in Rose's dreams and vision are the answers of the past between Cinders and Humans, and she is quickly running out of time trying to solve their hidden messages. She knows the answer lies in her first clue--identifying an animal she has never seen before--that persistent vision of a furry white animal, holding a gold metal object and exclaiming, "Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be too late!".

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Excerpt

 

Stephanie Caldwell woke up in pain. She tried to move, but her arms and legs were restrained. As her eyes adjusted and focused, she noticed bright spotlights shining down on her body, where she was lying flat on her back on a velvet bed encased in glass walls. Am I in a hospital? Was I in a car accident? she thought to herself.

She arched her back to try to see more of her surroundings, and a searing pain shot through her abdomen. She looked down and almost screamed. Not only was she naked, but her belly had swollen to an enormous size.

She cried out as more pain rushed through her, frantically looking around for answers or for someone who could help. Suddenly, a vision flashed through her mind. The last thing she could remember was driving in her car on the way to work. Traffic had come to a dead-stop, and she had smashed her hand against the horn in frustration. She was going to be late again, and she knew another strike against her performance would give the company grounds for her dismissal. She was already on probation as it was.

But now, she didn't know where she was. A hospital, maybe. She must have had an accident. She had heard that parts of people's bodies swell up after an injury. She had seen things like that on health shows on TV.

Craning her neck to look down at her wrists, she found thick golden cords of rope wrapped around them, and more were wrapped on her ankles, keeping her legs spread apart and her knees bent. The restraints, along with her odd positioning, didn’t look like anything doctors would use in a hospital. And the glass walls were so close to her, she had the eerie sense that she was in a coffin. The beginnings of fear began to surge throughout her body.

What's going on? She said to herself, and then again, out loud. "Hey! What's going on?"

She heard something and saw forms moving toward her from the darkness behind the pool of spotlights. As they emerged into the light, she saw that they were women--dozens of them--yet as her eyes adjusted even more clearly, she saw what appeared to be hundreds of women in the darkness. Hundreds. They wore long, red-hooded cloaks with their midriffs exposed, on which they displayed black symbols. Some symbols were dissimilar to each other, while others were alike, but they were all imprinted or tattooed on all the women’s bellies. As she looked even closer, she noticed the women were of quite varying heights, and soon realized that some of them were children.

The symbols meant nothing to Stephanie, but the red cloaks, their shielded faces, and the fact that all of them were standing in a circle staring down at her reminded her of some sort of satanic horror flick. But that was ridiculous. Demons didn't exist. But what about her protruding belly? And why was it moving?

She screamed again, pulling at the restraints on her arms and swearing out loud.

"What have you done to me?" she demanded. "What's going on here? Who are you?"

The women remained silent, but just behind them, music began to play. It was a playful, jolly kind of tune in ¾ tempo. A waltz.

These people were sick. Even more than that, they had put something inside her and seemed to be waiting for it to come out.

"You're not going to get away with this!" she screamed at them.

They remained motionless, their hooded faces apparently waiting for whatever was to be born.

Stephanie screamed again. She had never been pregnant in her life and had never even considered going through the trials and joys of birthing pains, yet now here she was, her body automatically reacting to what it had to do.

Involuntarily, she pushed.

As she felt something partially come out of her body, the hooded women came closer. With another push, it was over. Stephanie fell back--exhausted, dizzy, and sick. Then she heard the cries of a newborn.

One of the women took the infant, and Stephanie heard the sound of splashing water. She tried to say something, but began to feel very numb. Her body trembled uncontrollably.

"Isn't she beautiful?" a voice whispered.

"Beautiful like we were?" a little girl asked, holding hands with two other children who also bore strange symbols on their bellies.

"Even more so," the voice answered, "because she is the last."

Another child clapped her hands gleefully. "Will we finally be able to go to the Grand Ball?"

"Not yet," a more mature woman said. "Not until she has reached her twenty-first year; then, we will all be with our Princes and attend the ball."

The hooded women stared at the newborn, taking turns to allow the much younger females to see.

"What's wrong with her?" one of them asked, pointing to Stephanie.

After a brief silence, the mature voice answered, "She is going into an endless sleep."

"Asleep like our Princes?" the little girl inquired.

"No, that's a different type of sleep. This kind of sleep is one that can not be awakened by a kiss."

"She will sleep like the one who birthed me," said another girl, who sounded much older than the first one.

"Yes, like you."

"And like me," yet another girl said.

"Yes, like you, too."

"And me," intoned a third young girl’s voice.

"Yes, you as well. And you are the lucky ones, for you do not have to see the daily tearful eyes of your mother."

"Or hateful eyes," came a voice from the darkness.

"Or pitying eyes," another said.

"Or longing eyes."

"Though we look like them," the woman continued, "we are not like they are, for they are Human, and we are Cinders."

Those were the last words Stephanie Caldwell heard before she fell into a deep sleep.