The Three Grimoires

Three mysterious, ancient books have the Goodes, Smythes and Osbournes hot on the trial of a centuries old secret.

THE THREE GRIMOIRES

I.  THE PURLOINED BOOK

When Guenevere Goode was young, she and her friends Yarra Govinda-Smythe and Constance Osbourne loved to spend hours in their large home libraries, reading and perusing the thousands of ancient books that each of their families possessed.  Many of these volumes were several hundred years old and were first edition and long out-of-print classics on the occult, mythology, religion, literature, history, art, architecture and various other topics.

One rainy Spring Saturday in Amnesty, while Guen was engaged in her ongoing discovery of the immense ten-thousand volume Goode library, she by chance happened upon another discovery, that of a secret compartment behind a panel in one of the library's built-in wall shelves.  There was nothing in the space but what appeared to be a custom-made, velvet lined cut out area for a single book of some sort, but that space was now empty. When Guen showed her mother Charity the secret, empty compartment, she was surprised for, although Charity had lived in the house all of her life, the elder Goode had no previous knowledge of the hidden space, or of the book that it apparently once housed.

Knowledge of this secret compartment in the Goode library and its missing tome piqued the curiosity of Guen's friends Yarra and Connie (not to mention that of their mothers Patience and Pandora) to search the Smythe and Osbourne libraries as well.  What was found was unexpected, to say the least.

Both libraries of the Smythe and Osbourne residences (to the surprise of their owners) contained hidden chambers located behind the bookshelves, also designed to hold a single volume.

But these chambers were not empty.

Visible behind identical locked mesh works of iron that were anchored into the wood of the bookshelves in both houses were two books of approximately 250-300 pages.  But not just any books.  The covers were approximately a quarter of an inch in thickness, and had a hard, rough, grainy feel and look.  (Although the iron mesh work would not allow the covers to be opened, it was possible to feel the cover with one's finger through the square shaped holes created by the intersection of the iron grating.)  And even though the covers were rough and rigid, there was a bright, slick sheen, as if the entire book had recently been dipped into a vat of high quality virgin oil.  And yes, the entire book, for what could be seen of the pages also appeared to be similarly coated in this same illumination.  This sheen was all the more fascinating when the obvious extreme age of the books was taken into consideration.  There was nothing written on the covers of either book whatsoever.

Not finding any way to access the books without afflicting major damage to the ancient, vintage bookshelves to which the mesh works were anchored, the two mysterious books of the Smythe and Osbourne households remained hidden and inaccessible for the next eight years.

And unopened.

II.  INTEGRITY'S REQUEST

"Sis, I need a favor."

Charity Goode looked at her younger sister Integrity with a curious expression.  "So, what else is new?"  She asked with an exaggerated sigh.  "OK, what is it this time?"

Integrity's countenance brightened at the hint of assistance.  "I messed up and scheduled two house showings in the same time frame.  So, I was wondering if you would--"

"Show one while you show the other?"

"Uh, huh.  If you get them to sign, I'll split the commission with you."

The founding families of Amnesty, the Goodes, Smythes and Osbournes, had long ago made their fortunes in real estate.  However, the only family that actually pursued the real estate trade these days was the Goodes, in the form of Integrity Realtors, Integrity Goode's real estate firm, located in a huge stately Colonial house on Main Street, almost directly across from Pandora's Box, the Wiccan bookstore owned by Charity Goode and fellow witch queen Patience Smythe.  Before Charity and Patience had taken over Pandora's Box from Pandora Osbourne (the original owner, who was now the mayor of Amnesty), both women co-owned Integrity's firm, with Integrity as a junior agent.  At present, although Integrity was the primary owner of the firm, both Charity and Patience's real estate licenses were renewed on a regular basis, and both were still on the company books as more-or-less "silent" partners.

"Where is it?"

"In Amnesty.  It's this really old Colonial over on Stonehenge Drive, near Fourth Street," Integrity said, referring to the street that was one over from Monolith Drive, the street that Charity and her daughter Guenevere lived on.  "It was built in the early 1700's, I think."

"And who am I meeting there?"

Integrity handed her sister a manila folder stuffed with papers.  "It's the Stevenson family, and you're meeting with Mr. Anders Stevenson."

Charity quickly perused the file.  She nodded.  "OK.  And the list price is $650,000?"

"Yes," Integrity said.  "But don't go any lower than five seventy-five.  Other homes in that section of Stonehenge start there."

Charity made a note on the file cover.  She studied some photos.  "Oh, yeah.  I think I've seen this house before.  It's a few blocks down from where Persephone lives, right?"

Persephone Chen was a childhood friend of the witch queens.  The Chens and their three beautiful daughters Deeja, Nautica (a childhood friend of Guen, Yarra and Connie) and Lin occupied the large English Georgian house that was directly behind the Smythe residence on Monolith.

"Yep."  Integrity said in reference to her sister's observation.  "So, ya good, Lady Goode?"

Charity smiled at her sister's pun.  "Well, I'd be a whole lot better if I knew what time I'm supposed to be there."

Integrity laughed silently and pointed an index finger at Charity.  "Good one," she said, keeping the play on the sisters' last name going.  "You are to be there at promptly 11:00." She handed her older sister a set of keys.  "These are the house keys and the key to the lock box."

"OK," Charity nodded thoughtfully as she accepted the keys.  "Eleven o'clock.  Then that means I'll leave Pandora's Box at 10:30.  You know I like to do a walk-though myself on a house before I show it, to get familiar with it."

"I know."  Integrity shrugged.  "To each her own," she said.  "That's fine.  I'm just happy that my big sister is helping me out."

"Again," Charity said with emphasis.  "Your big sister is helping you out, again."

Integrity scoffed.  "Ye-ah, that's what I said."

"No, you didn't."

"Well, it was strongly implied."  Integrity shrugged.  She gave Charity a quick kiss on the cheek.  "Gotta go.  I'm meeting my client over in Hampstead in a half hour."

"See ya for lunch at Pandora's Box at twelve?"

"I'll be there."

"Blessed be, sis."

"Back at ya."

III.  FOUND

After Integrity had left the Goode house, Charity went to Pandora's Box, the Wiccan bookstore owned by fellow witch queen Patience Smythe and herself.  She stayed until 10:30 as planned, and then left for the house showing on Stonehenge.  Amnesty was a very small town, and the house in question was only one street south of Main Street, where Pandora's Box and Integrity Realtors were located.

Charity pulled into the driveway of the old Colonial, cut the engine and checked her watch.  She had almost twenty-five minutes before the showing, provided that the client did not show up early.  Charity grabbed the house file from off of the passenger's seat and got out of her Lexus coupe.  She locked up the car and looked around at her surroundings. 

Stonehenge was a broad, quiet, upper middle class residential street featuring very old, large Colonial and English and American style Georgian houses, mostly dating from the first quarter of the eighteenth century.

Charity made her way up the stone walkway to the large double front doors of the house. The house, according to the appraiser's report, was built in 1700.  It was somewhere around two-thousand square feet, and was an eight room, two storied affair, with an attic taking up half the second floor.  The front entrance opened up into a small foyer that led into a brief hallway featuring a half bathroom on the left and a small closet on the right. Immediately after these two spaces, the hallway ended and deposited its visitors into the living room, with the dining room and kitchen adjacent to the left.  There was a side door located in the living room that led outside, for easy access to the gravel driveway that ran alongside the house on its right hand side.

Charity did a quick survey of the three bedrooms and full bathroom on the second floor and found them to be spacious and more than adequate.  Charity closed the attic door and made her way downstairs.  When she was almost to the bottom of the steps, something caught her eye, laying on the embedded wall bookshelf that was contained in the partition separating the living room from the kitchen and dining rooms.  Charity could almost swear that the object in question was not there when she passed the shelves on her way upstairs just a few minutes before.

Open-mouthed and in a state of shock, Charity recognized the book immediately and began to flip through its contents with a controlled but eager abandon.  She nearly dropped the ancient volume on the plush, white carpeted floor when her eyes alighted on its pages and contents.

"What in the world--"  Charity muttered to herself in disbelief.  At the sound of a car pulling into the stone driveway outside, she quickly deposited the book into her purse.

IV.  LUNCH HOUR PLANS

Forty minutes later found Charity back at Pandora's Box.

"Hey," Patience said with a smile when her best friend and coven sister entered the front door of the bookstore.  "How did it go?  Did they decide to take the house?"

"Uh, huh," Charity said, obviously having other thoughts on her mind.  "They took it."

"How much?"

"$600,000.  And I promised to knock a point off of their thirty year fixed, for good 

measure."

"That's great," Patience said, genuinely happy for her friend.  But one look at Charity and her countenance changed.  "Isn't it?"

Charity reached into her purse and pulled out the mysterious volume.  She laid it on the counter in front of Patience.  No words were necessary.

Patience did a double take as her eyes caught the bright sheen of the ancient cover.  "Wow," she said with a puzzled grin.  It was all that she had at present.  "Is that really-- Where was it?  Where did you--"

"Where did I get it?"  Charity finished for her friend.  "In the house on Stonehenge."

This last fact got Patience's attention.

"OK, what?

Charity nodded and motioned to Patience to actually open the volume.  She did so.

"Alright.  This is weird."

"Ya think?"

There were several reasons for the witch queens' amazement.  The pages were made of a veiny, light brownish green substance that was sturdy as card stock.  As with the cover, the smooth look and feel of the pages were quite unique, and their curious lamination or illumination was different than with a typical medieval text.  And speaking of the text, it was written in a language and script that the witch queens were not familiar with (but both felt like they had seen somewhere).  Finally, the pages contained beautifully detailed, colored drawings of occult symbolism.  However, the occult practices depicted were almost completely unknown to the witch queens, who held advanced degrees in Occult and Magical Studies.  In truth, the symbolism was familiar.  There were the usual pentagrams, Stars of David, Seals of Solomon, Kabbalistic Trees of Life, astrological and alchemical symbolism and so on.  The main problem for Charity and Patience was the way in which these symbols were used.  And, to confound things even more was the propensity of a complex ritual symbolism to be associated with a very real sketch of some fabulous beast (among which were unicorns, dragons, kraken and other sea creatures such as mermaids) or person of the unseen realms, such as Gnomes, Sprites, Fairies, Elves and Dwarves.

"Maybe it's a bestiary of some sort?"  Patience guessed.

"Well, if it is," Charity said, "it's the first time I've seen the beasts associated with some type of occult ritual."

"It could be like the female nudes in the Voynich Manuscript," Pandora suggested.  She was referring to the famous mysterious medieval volume of the fourteenth century that had baffled scholars as to its focus and origin.  "Are they there for decoration, or do they serve a purpose? Maybe the occult symbolism is just for show, here."

"I don't know about that," Charity said with a shake of her head.  "The occult practices seem to be very specific for whatever beast or creature is being depicted.  And it's always different.  In the Voynich Manuscript, you always have the same nudes bathing, more or less."

"True."

"And I don't think it's something to fool around with, if you're not familiar with it."

"Yep.  And, I hate to admit, we aren't."

These hermeneutical dilemmas also proved to confound another expert in the occult, witch queen and Amnesty mayor Pandora Osbourne.  It being Wednesday, the three witch queens and Integrity were in the break room of Pandora's Box for their weekly Wednesday lunch get-together.

"Man, sis," Integrity said to Charity between bites of her tuna fish sandwich, "I send ya out to sell a house and you not only sell it, thank you very much--"

"You're quite welcome."

"--but, you end up stealing a book in the process."

"I didn't steal it," Charity said and took a sip of her cola.  "It's my book.  It's the one that someone apparently stole from someone in our family.  Remember?  I told you about this, although it was about seven or eight years ago, now."

"Uh, huh.  I seem to recall.  But who?  And how did it get in a house four blocks away, one street over?"

"Well," Pandora Osbourne, the third witch queen in Amnesty and its current mayor, said thoughtfully between bites of her ham and cheese sandwich, "it would seem that there would be some connection between who stole it and where it ended up."

"So, the person that stole the book lived in the house?  You think?"

"Maybe."  Pandora shrugged.  "Probably."

"Well, one thing's certain," Patience said, staring at the mysterious book lying on the coffee table located on the opposite end of the break room.  "It's definitely a grimoire."

"Yes," Charity said.  "It has all the characteristics.  Made of strange materials, esoteric language and symbolism and so on.  But a grimoire of what?  Have you ever seen spells or ritual like the ones in that book before?"

"Well, I've definitely seen the symbols before.  And so have you.  They are the usual ones used in occult practice."  Patience shrugged.  "I've just never seen the practices before."

"Exactly."

"And those sketches of those creatures are pretty wild," Integrity said.  "They almost look real."

"Yes, they do.  Almost like the person drawing them had them posing for him, in a menagerie or something."  Charity added.

"That's what I meant."

"And it would also help if we could actually read it," Patience said.  "If there was at least a hint to get us pointed in the right direction."

"Well, it's definitely not written in Latin or any of the medieval languages," Charity said with a thoughtful nod.  "But five to ten it dates from the middle ages.  It looks like a magical alphabet, but not the usual familiar ones, like Theban or Passing The River.  I don't know, maybe rune based?"

"Yes," Patience nodded.  "But not quite.  If they're runes or some sort of sigil, I'm definitely not familiar with them."

"I'm not sure it's that old," Pandora said.  "Don't forget that grimoires are rarely original. They are usually simulacrums of an original somewhere.  And, I would say because we have three copies of the same grimoire, that's the case.  But the original grimoire that they were copied from most likely did originate in the middle ages, because that's basically where they started.  Not to mention bestiaries. "

"Good point," Charity said.  "So the ones we have could be only a few hundred years old."

"Yes.  I'm thinking late sixteen hundreds to early seventeen."

At this statement, a thought illuminated Patience's face.  "Or possibly around the time of the founding of Amnesty to the building of the house on Stonehenge.  Sixteen ninety-twoish to around seventeen-hundred, maybe?"

"You just might be right, Pat," Pandora said.

"So what are these three books all about, do ya think?" Integrity asked as she sipped her iced tea. "Black magic or something?"

"Or something," Charity said with an abrupt chuckle and looked uneasily at her fellow witch queens.  "Truth is?  We don't know what it is."

"And we're not even totally sure that they are all the same," Pandora added, dipping into her strawberry yogurt with a plastic spoon.  "We know that they look the same from the outside, but the contents of my grimoire and Patience's might have something different inside than Charity's."

"So, why all the long faces when you're talking about books that you know nothing about?"

"Because," Pandora answered for Charity and Patience, "what is depicted in the book we have seen inside of is obviously a very advanced and powerful form of magic ritual.  In the wrong hands?  It could be potentially dangerous."

"Is that why they are all bound up?"

"Very good question, sis," Charity said.  "It's basically the old chicken and egg dilemma."

"Chicken and egg?"

"What came first.  Were the grimoires bound up because of what is in them, or were Patience and Pandora's bound up later, after mine was stolen or whatever?"

"Most likely bound up later," Pandora deduced.  "If I recall correctly, it looked like the dais that held your grimoire never had an iron mesh work built around it, like ours do.  That would seem to point to the fact that the Smythe and Osbourne Grimoires were bound up after the Goode Grimoire was stolen."

"Good point," Charity nodded in approval.

"And I think that even though the three books were originally not bound, they were probably hidden in the secret compartments," Patience said thoughtfully.  "Those compartments most likely were the grimoires' original protection.  They were probably built for just that purpose."

"Makes sense.  Especially in light of the fact that it's almost certain that our witch queen descendants would not have liked magic of that high level getting into the wrong hands."

Integrity snorted.  "Yeah, but that's obviously what happened, right?"

"Apparently."

"So, what were our descendants doing with these books?  Why did they have them?"  A pause. "Did they make them themselves, maybe?"

"I don't think so, Teg," Pandora said.  "I think that they acquired them from someone or somewhere.  They look--"

"Like they're not made by human hands?"  Patience finished for her friend with a smile.

"That's one way of putting it," Pandora said while consuming a spoonful of yogurt.

"Wha--?"  Integrity said, wide-eyed.  "Now you're freakin' me out."

"Well, they're obviously enchanted in some way," Charity said, finishing her sandwich.  "You can feel an energy when you touch them."

Integrity shrugged.  "Just feels like a normal book to me, for the most part.  The cover is rough.  The pages are maybe a little smoother and heavier than normal, but I didn't feel anything like that."

"Well, you still don't have the psychic insight.  If and when you decide to become a witch queen in a few years, you will."

"Well, I know I don't have the learning on this stuff like you guys have-- I mean-- I don't have a masters in occult and magical studies and all that.  What I know I learned from you three and mom and grandma and great grandma."  Integrity chuckled.  "Basically, my training and expertise is in real estate, not the occult."  A pause.  "Maybe I shouldn't become a witch queen.  I'd probably suck at it."

"You won't suck at it," Charity said, then thought better of it.  "Initially you might suck. Probably."

"Thanks, sis."

"But some introductory classes on the occult, or even the associates degree program in the evening at Rockford, might help."

"I'll take that into consideration."

Rockford University, a small, ancient institution of higher learning located in nearby Exeter, was the alma mater of the witch queens.  Besides being an excellent liberal arts school, it featured one of the most renowned occult and magical studies departments in the country.

"But I don't really get all of the need for secrecy," Integrity continued.  "I mean, to perform any of the rituals in those books--"

"Grimoires."

"Alright, grimoires or whatever.  But, anyway.  As I was saying, someone would have to be able to make out the language."

"True."

"And that's probably the reason for the weird language in the first place."

"Well, that's one of the reasons for a grimoire," Pandora said.  "So that only the initiated know what's written about in them."

"And if you guys can't make heads or tails of it, there's probably not many that could."

Pandora was pensive.  She looked at Charity.  "Would you mind if I took the grimoire for a couple of days?"

Charity pursed her lips.  "Sure," she said.  "But what are you gonna do with it?"

"Do you guys remember professor Millstone?"

"Of course," Patience said and Charity nodded in the affirmative.  "We had him for a couple of medieval language classes at Rockford."

Professor Millstone was a leading expert in occult languages and symbolism.

"Well, I still keep in touch with him from time to time," Pandora said in reference to the professor in question.  "He was one of my favorite teachers.  Anyway, he might be able to shed some light on the grimoire, like how old it is and what language it is written in and what it is made of."

"That sounds like a plan," Charity said.

"So, what do we do in the meantime?"  Integrity asked.

"We need to find out why the grimoire was stolen, by who, and what it was doing in the Stonehenge house."  Charity said.  "I have some other ideas."

"Like what?"  Integrity asked.

"It's Guen and Yarra's work night.  We should have them see if they can find out anything about the house while they're here."  She shrugged.  "They like researching this kind of stuff."

"Nerds," Integrity said in jest.

"Good idea," Patience said with a nod.  "Let's devote part of their lunch hour at six, plus another hour, if they need it."

"Six forty-five to eight, let's say?"

"Yes.  And if they want to start earlier than six forty-five, let them.  As long as they eat first."

"Right."

"So, we're all on the same page here concerning what we're doing?"  Pandora asked.

"Yes."

"Good.  'Cause I gotta get back to the municipal building and my office."

"So do I," Integrity said and stood up to stretch.  "Get back to my office.  Not the municipal building."

"I'm going to call Professor Millstone when I get back and see if I can drop off the grimoire tonight after work," Pandora said, getting the book in question from off of the coffee table and putting it in her purse.

Integrity turned to Charity.  "You've asked mom and dad about this book being missing, right?"

"Yes, back when Guen found the secret compartment and all that.  They basically said that it was news to them."

"My parents said the same," Patience said.

"And mine," Pandora said.

Integrity sighed.  "All righty, then."  She looked at her sister.  "Now, let me go."

"Get."

"Blessed be, sisters."

"Blessed be."

V.  RESEARCH

Guen and Yarra showed up at Pandora's Box at a quarter to four.  The girls worked every Wednesday evening after school from four to nine o'clock, with an hour (paid) break for dinner from six o'clock to seven.  After having the girls do store related tasks from four to six, Guen and Yarra went on dinner break, with instructions to get started on the research of the Stonehenge residence after they had finished eating, or no later than a quarter to seven, their choice.

"I've wanted to read this book ever since I've known it was missing," Guen was saying to her mother.  "When I was nine or whatever.  And now it's found, and I still can't see it."

"You will," Charity said.  "Pandora will only have it for a day or two."

"That's a long time to an anxious teenager," Guen said.

"That's for sure," Charity said with a grin at Patience.

"The anxious part, anyway," Patience said with sly look at Yarra.

"I'm not anxious," Yarra said with an innocent expression.  "I'm perfectly calm."

"Sure, you are," Patience said.  She looked at Guen.  "Oh, and Guen?  You'll be able to see the grimoire--"

"The what?"

"The book.  It's actually a grimoire.  A book of incantations and spells."

"Like a Book Of Shadows, right?"

"Not quite.  Yes, both are a book of spells.  But a Book Of Shadows is more for common use.  A grimoire is more esoteric."

"I don't get it."

"Neither do I," Yarra said.  "Esoteric how?"

"A grimoire is written for a specific person or group of persons to read and use," Charity explained. "It's not meant for just anyone."

"That's why grimoire's are usually written in code, or a language that only the initiated can read," Patience added.  "So, as I was saying, you'll be able to see the grimoire, Guen, but I doubt you'll be able to actually read it."

"Why?  Can't you guys read it?"

"Not really.  We've never seen the language before," Charity said.  "At least, we think we haven't.  Although something does seem familiar about it.  But we're definitely not familiar with the magic that is being presented."

"Cool!"  Yarra said and exchanged a large smile with Guen.

It was around six-thirty when the girls got started.  Guen collected a few books on Amnesty and Rockford County history from the local history section of the store, while Yarra elected for an electronic search on her laptop.  By seven-thirty, the girls were ready to present their findings.

"The house was built in 1700," Guen was saying.  "It has always been known as the Belle House, because the builder's last name was Belle.  He was the first occupant.  He lived there for twenty-three years.  Then, in 1723, a Mandrake moved in.  According to the Amnesty tax records, Mr. Mandrake was a dealer in rare books and manuscripts."

"Really?"  Charity said with a glance at Patience.  Both witch queens had Yarra's full and undivided attention.  "Go on, we're listening."

Yarra and Guen exchanged glances.  "Well, we don't really have much more." Guen said.

Suddenly, Yarra began to study the screen with more intensity.  "Wait.  It says here that later in the same year, there was a new occupant in the house."

"So, the book dealer sold the house to someone else?"  Patience asked.

Yarra was intently punching keys on the keyboard.  "Wait a second, I'm bringing up a document hyperlink attachment.  It's the deed, or something."

"Can we see that?"  Charity asked Yarra for Patience and herself.

"Sure," Yarra said and handed her laptop to her mother.  Charity got up out of her seat to stand behind Patience and look over her shoulder.

"OK," Patience said with a confident nod, "this is the deed."

"And the seller to a Mr. Avunucci was... the town of Amnesty?  Really?"

"Yeah," Patience said and pointed to the screen.  "And look at this.  It says here that the house was 'sheriff's sale, at auction.'"

"So, what does all that mean?" Guen asked.

Charity and Patience looked at each other.

"Well," Patience said, "it basically means that for some reason, the town of Amnesty owned the house after the book dealer.  If the sheriff was involved, then I would say most likely that the town foreclosed on the property.  That's why the new owner acquired it at auction.  Of course why, we don't know."

After a brief period of silence, a pensive looking Patience spoke again.  "This is basically all surface information."  She said and shook her head.

"Whatdaya mean?"  Yarra asked with a worried look at Guen.  "Did we do something wrong?"

"Oh, no honey," Patience said, sensing that the girls feelings were hurt by her statement. "Nothing like that.  I didn't mean anything against Guen and you.  You guys did a great job, as you always do with this stuff.  What I meant was that something else was going on here.  You got a missing grimoire showing up in a house on another street from where it was originally, and you have an occupant of that house that just happens to be a rare book dealer.  Coincidence?"

"Weird," Yarra said.  "So, what now?"

"We need to fill in the empty spaces, here," Patience said.  "Did Lady Goode have dealings with Mandrake?  Did she give him the grimoire?  If so, why?  Or, did he steal it?"

"But how can we find out?"

"By doing a different kind of research," Patience said.

VI.  FINDINGS

Charity, Patience, Guen and Yarra spent the remaining time left at Pandora's Box engaged in closing the store.  But once they had locked up and left at nine, the four rejoined each other back at the Goode residence a few minutes later.  This was in order to institute and execute Patience's plan-- researching the Goode, Smythe and Osbourne family journals for insight on the relationship between the Stonehenge Drive book dealer and the (then) witch queens.

One of the tasks of an Amnesty witch queen was the preservation of the memory of the founding families with the recording of events in journals.  This was an Amnesty tradition dating back to the first witch queens.  Therefore, a section of the libraries of the Goodes, Smythes and Osbournes were devoted to housing these journals, for easy reference.  And exactly how the records were kept were up to the discretion of the present witch queen(s). At times, a detailed, daily record was kept.  At other times, just important events in Amnesty history were recorded when they arose.  An entry might be just a few words or a few sentences long concerning the recording of an event, or the entry might go on for several pages.  And while some witch queens were eloquent and filled up two or more journals for a given year, others were minimalist and might cover a space of two or three years in a single journal.  These journals could also include the addition of sketches, photos, clippings, souvenirs and other types of items that could be used by the reader to aid or enhance the experience of the written entries.

"Yarra, you and Guen go over to our house and see what journals from that time period you can find and bring them back over here," Patience was saying to her daughter.  "I called Pandora, she and Connie are bringing over the Osbourne journals from their library."

"OK, cool."

"So, you two bunnies hop across the street and get those journals."

Of course, this statement by Charity incited the girls to actually hop like bunnies to the front door, to the amusement of their mothers.

While the girls were over at the Smythe residence scanning the library, the witch queens were involved in the same task in the Goode and Osbourne libraries.  Pandora and her daughter Connie came over to the Goode house shortly thereafter.

"Guys?  I got the journals," Pandora called out after entering the unlocked front door of the Goode house.  "Where are you?"

"Up here," Charity called down to Pandora and Connie, peering down at them from the steel railing of the upstairs library.  "Come on up."

Pandora nodded as Connie and she made her way up the Goode's spiral staircase with the ancient Osbourne family journals.

The Goode library, the largest library of the three witch queen families, boasted a grand total of books in excess of ten thousand volumes.  This made it almost twice as large as the Smythe library and three times as large as the Osbournes.  The Goode library was located on the second floor of the Goode house across the hall from Charity's bedroom, in a seven-hundred square foot room lined wall to wall with custom-made, embedded bookshelves.  The center part of the library floor was cut out, with a three foot high railing lining its perimeter, allowing library visitors a view of the first floor of the house.  In truth, the cut out floor of the library was not only for aesthetic purposes.  It also provided the occupants on the first floor an optional, faster access to the library, as a retractable ladder that was attached to the railing could easily be pulled down by someone on the first floor of the house, allowing them to climb up to the second floor library space.  Between the railing and the bookcases was a ten foot wide wrap-around area that provided ample room for the placement of a few small tables with chairs for reading and study.  When Pandora entered the library entrance, her two fellow witch queens and Guen and Yarra were sitting at two of these tables, intently pouring over the journals of their past descendants for any iota of insight into the mystery surrounding the grimoires.  Guen and Yarra were studying the Smythe journals at one table, while Charity and Patience were at a nearby table reading and examining the Goode journals.  Pandora joined her fellow witch queens at the table they occupied with the Osbourne volumes.

After some time, the group shared their initial findings with each other.  Pandora went first.

"Well, Connie's and my ancestor Brynne Osbourne basically states that a volume was reported missing from the Goode library," Pandora said.  "And although she does not go into details about what volume it was,  I think it's quite obvious that it was the grimoire."

"Why doesn't she mention it?"  Yarra asked.

"Well, remember that the grimoire is a secret volume to begin with," Pandora said.  "And the fact that this one includes some heavy duty spells and incantations-- probably conjuring and the like-- the witch queens at that time probably didn't want the fact that there were two more just like it and their whereabouts getting out to the general public."

"Anything else?"  Charity asked.

"Yeah," Pandora said.  "Listen to this: 'Goodie said a tome left the rear shelf and can not be found. I'm familiar with it, no doubt.  And no doubt it was the dealer, by the moon's glow. But Goodie has a diff'rent mind 'bout her than me, she does."

"Huh?"  Yarra asked.

'Translation, mom," Connie said.

"Translation," Pandora echoed.  "How's this?  A book that was on the 'rear shelf' or, as we know it, the secret compartment, has turned up missing.  Lady Osbourne here states that she knows what the book is."  A smile.  "And so do we, of course."

"Yes, we do," Charity said with a nod.

"And," Pandora continued, "Lady Brynne also says that she thinks that the 'dealer' took it."

"The book dealer," Guen said.  "Mandrake."

"Yep."

"So, wait," Yarra said.  "Lady Goode didn't think it was him?"

"That's the way I read it."

"But why?"

"Good question."

"Well, we might be able to answer that question," Patience said with a look to Charity and flipped to a page in the Goode journal.  "In part, at least."

"OK," Pandora said.

"Basically," Patience said, "to sum up, Lady Goode seemed to be very fond of  Mandrake as a friend.  Apparently, the witch queens at the time had the book dealer in to appraise their book collections.  Which apparently he did, and was compensated for his efforts. Now, of course, I don't know what my ancestor Lady Smythe thought of him."  Here, Patience looked to Guen and Yarra.  "You guys probably have the answer to that.  But anyway, it's pretty obvious that Lady Goode considered him trustworthy.  She basically sings his 

praises."

"So, Lady Goode wasn't of the same mind, then, concerning the book dealer," Pandora said.  "Just like Lady Osbourne said."

"Apparently not."

"Maybe they liked each other," Guen said, as Yarra and she shared a giggle.

"Maybe," Charity said with pursed lips.  "Pat and I didn't see anything to actually indicate that, but maybe it wasn't recorded, because Lady Goode didn't want her ancestors to know about her love life for the next few centuries."

Guen nodded thoughtfully at this.

"OK," Connie said, "the book is missing.  Lady Osbourne thinks that Mandrake took it. Why?" 

"Good, Connie." Pandora said and flipped to a page in the Osbourne journal.  "Where was that I saw-- oh, here it is.  According to this, there was a get-together or something that was held here at the Goode house.  Mandrake was invited by Lady Goode.  Apparently, the grimoire was found missing at some point after the party, or whatever."

"I have something here in the Smythe family journal about this," Yarra said, intently reading the volume in question.

"Go ahead, honey," Pandora said.  "Whatdaya got?"

"Lady Smythe here is basically saying that when Mandrake was appraising the libraries, he somehow found out about the grimoires and--"

"She actually says 'grimoires?'"  Patience asked.

"No," Yarra said.  "She calls them 'tomes,'  like Lady Osbourne does.  But, anyway.  Apparently Mandrake asked the witch queens several times if he could buy the grimoires from them, and they told him that they were 'unique' and 'not for sell.'"

"So, is Lady Smythe saying there that Mandrake took them, based on the fact that he kept asking them to sell the grimoires to him?  Or no?"  Charity asked.

"I think so," Yarra said with a nod.  "That, and also the party, I guess.  The fact that he had the opportunity."

Guen suddenly remembered something.  "Wait a second," she said, and began to flip through the Smythe journal.  "I don't think so...  wait, here it is.  Lady Smythe mentions that 'Mandrake was not at the gathering t'nite.  Goodie was out.  But, all the better.'"

"What's it mean that Lady Goode was 'out?'" Yarra asked.  "She wasn't there, either?"

"No, honey," Pandora said, "it's just a way of saying that she was 'put out' about Mandrake not showing up."

"Oh, OK.  I got it."

"That's something," Charity said.  "He's not there, and still the grimoire was stolen."

"And obviously we have two witch queens that don't trust Mandrake as far as they could throw him, and one that trusts him implicitly." Patience added.

"Something doesn't seem right here," Pandora said with knitted brow.

"What?"

"The prime suspect, the person who has all the motive, doesn't show up to a gathering, and someone else supposedly just happens to steal the-- I'm assuming-- hidden grimoire.  Doesn't that seem weird to you guys?"

The others had to admit that it was, as Pandora had said, very "weird." 

"So, what does it mean?"  Connie asked.

"Well, I don't know what it means," Patience said, once again searching through the leaves of the Goode journal, "but I can tell you what Lady Goode thought about what her fellow witch queens thought about the matter."

"Please do," Pandora said.

"Here it is," Patience said and stopped at a chosen page.  She began to read its contents silently.

"Well, it sounds like Ladies Smythe and Osbourne mentioned something to Lady Goode about suspecting that Mandrake had an accomplice.  That he sent this guy to the party in his stead, with orders to steal the grimoire, so that it wouldn't be traced back to him."

"And, of course, Lady Goode didn't like the insinuation," Charity said.

"Nope."

"Wait," Connie said.  "How long after the party or whatever did it actually take for Lady Goode to know the grimoire was stolen?"

"Let me see, Con," Patience said, running a finger over the text.  After a few seconds, "from what I can tell, it was almost a week later."

"Really?  That long?"

"Yeah, well-- I guess a book missing from a secret compartment isn't exactly visible right away," Patience said.  "Unless you're looking for it."

"So, how did she finally find out?"

"She says she found out when she was 'dusting' the shelves," Patience said, reading a passage.  "Maybe she saw something amiss, or maybe she regularly dusted out the secret compartment?  I don't know.  It just says 'found out while dusting shelves the tome missing.  Will check for it misplaced."

"Well, obviously it was rendered stolen, not 'misplaced.'"  Connie said with a amused grin. "As Ladies Smythe and Osbourne announce."

"It's amazing, really," Pandora said.  "I've never seen so much conflict between witch queens before.  Have you?"

"No," Charity shook her head, eyebrows raised.  "Can't say that I have."

"You almost expect them to throw down at any minute,"  Patience said with a chuckle.  The image that this evoked got giggles from Guen and Yarra and a smile from Connie.

"Tell me about it."

"How far removed from the founders were these girls?"  Charity asked.  "Anyone know?" 

"As far as I can tell," Patience said, browsing the first pages of the Goode journal, they were the daughters of the founders.  And I think that they were just starting out as witch queens."

"That's probably the reason for their high-strung nature," Pandora said with a chuckle.

Patience, still reading, held up a finger.  "Wait, there's something else.  Listen to this.  'Ezra' �" that's Mandrake's first name, by the way-- 'Ezra swears by his mother's grave that his man didn't take the tome.  Remorseful, he is.  And good'nough.  But I think not for some.  I can not believe the sisters!  Of all the-- having cages built to house tomes?  Imagine!"

Pandora and Charity exchanged smiles.

"Well, there's the answer as to how the iron mesh work on the two remaining grimoires came about," Pandora said.

"Yep."  Charity said.  "And once again, all three witch queens did not exactly share the same opinion."

"On anything."

"Uh, huh."

It was almost eleven o'clock when the witch queens and their daughters decided to wrap up their research.  In truth, although the group felt that they were over-all successful in their findings, there also seemed to be a lot of unanswered questions.  And although the majority of these questions centered around the origin and nature of the grimoires, other questions arose concerning Mandrake the book dealer.  Did he really steal the grimoire?  If so, did he work alone, or did he have an accomplice, like Ladies Smythe and Osbourne had claimed?  In truth, for everything presently known, there seemed to be much more that was still untold.

It being a school night, Charity sent Guen off to bed and Patience and Pandora told Yarra and Connie to walk back home to do the same.  When the girls had complied, the witch queens gathered in the Goode kitchen for a brief touch-base meeting.

"I have an idea of how we might get some answers to this stuff," Charity said, placing two mugs of steaming hot cocoa that she had just made before Patience and Pandora.

"How?"  Patience asked, picking up a spoon to stir her cocoa.

"Go to the source," Charity said with a conspiratorial grin and took a seat at the kitchen table.

"You mean the ancestors?"  Pandora asked and blew into her mug.

"I mean my ancestors," Charity said.  "Since everything seems to revolve around Lady Goode at that time."

Both Pandora and Patience were aboard with Charity's idea.

"Why not?"  Patience said with a shrug, between gulps of her cocoa.  "Do you want to do it now?"

"I could."

"Go ahead.  Pan and I can wait."  She glanced at the digital clock on the Goode's microwave, located on the kitchen counter.  It's only a quarter after eleven."

Charity looked contemplatively at her cocoa mug.  "Let me finish my cocoa first."

"It is good," Patience said.

"Yeah, it is," Pandora agreed.

Once finished, Charity made her way out of the kitchen and up the spiral staircase to the third floor, the traditional abode of the ancestors in the Wiccan Quarter of Amnesty.  While some of the departed chose to split their time between the third floor and Summerland, others stayed primarily in either/or.  And although the current witch queen and her family had final say on dibs (for example, if company was staying over and the use of the rooms on the third floor was needed, it was understood that the "occupants" of the third floor would be absent during that time), the spirits were basically allowed to come and go as they pleased.  And unless there was some pressing issue, it was similarly understood that the rest of the house was off-limits.

It seemed to be no time at all when Charity could be seen by her fellow witch queens slowly making her way back down the spiral staircase.

"That was quick," Patience said with a smile, somewhat surprised.

Charity half-smiled back.  But mostly, her facial expression was one of hurt wonderment. "Well, that's what happens when your relatives give you the cold shoulder," she said.

"So, they wouldn't answer you?"  Patience asked Charity incredulously.

"Wouldn't answer me?"  Charity echoed.  "They never even showed up."  She smirked. "But they were there, all right.  I felt them.  And all the doors were locked.  They wouldn't even let me in."

"They've never done that before," Pandora said, puzzled.  "At least, the Osbourne ancestors never have."

"Well," Patience said.  "It's like we thought.  It wasn't a good time for Lady Catherine Goode, she felt responsible for what happened.  Probably even embarrassed.  And I guess it's not something she ever got over, almost three-hundred years later."

"I guess."  A sigh.  "I also guess we're on our own with this one."

"I guess."

VII.  THE PERSNICKETY BOOK

Pandora arrived at Rockford University at ten o'clock the next morning to show the grimoire to professor Millstone.  The professor, excited to see one of his former and best students, was similarly excited to see Pandora in possession of an obviously ancient and unique tome.  In truth, the mayor of Amnesty's mentor was surprised to find out just how unique that tome was.  And how persnickety.

"Pan, I can't open it."

"Huh?"

"The grimoire.  It won't allow me to open it up."

Pandora watched in silent awe as professor Millstone demonstrated what he meant.  Sure enough, he was repeatedly unsuccessful in getting the grimoire to open.  It was as if the iron mesh work that bound the Smythe and Osbourne copies was also present on the Goode volume, but invisible.

When Pandora attempted the same feat, she had no problem in opening the grimoire at all.

"Well, there's our first observation," professor Millstone said with a grin at Pandora.  "It's obviously enchanted."

"It would appear so."

"So, has this happened before?"

"No," Pandora said and shook her head.  "Everyone so far has been able to open it, no problem."  A sly grin.  "You're the first, Dr. Millstone."

The older man chuckled.  "Well, I would imagine that everyone that has attempted to open it thus far is a member of either your family, or that of Charity's and Patience's families, correct?"

"Correct."

"Interesting," Dr. Millstone said and pulled at his white beard, deep in thought.  "So, tell me all that you know about these three grimoires, Pan.  And then we'll-- or should I say you-- will examine this one more closely. "  Another chuckle.  "I don't think it's going to let this be a collaborative effort."

And so, with Dr. Millstone observing and providing guidance from a distance and Pandora actively engaged in the examination of the grimoire, some conclusions about the strange volume were reached:

1.) The grimoire was constructed of natural materials that were indigenous to Amnesty and the Amnesty Woods.  Examination through a microscope revealed that the cover of the grimoire was made out of a dried pulp extract of Oak bark, which explained its grainy, rough look and feel.  The cover achieved its shiny luster because of the presence of acorn oil that was apparently used as a protective coating.  The pages were also natural, made from dried Oak and Maple leaves that were treated with acorn oil as a coagulant, which were then apparently heated in a mold.  Professor Millstone deduced that it was the acorn oil that acted as a natural laminate, and would explain the illuminated effect of the pages.  The ink was also unique.  Under the microscope the ink revealed the molecular structure of all-natural materials, including one of which that appeared to be animal blood.  It was  apparently the presence of animal blood that gave the text its deep maroon hue.

These findings seemed to point towards the theory that the grimoire originated in Amnesty, with materials acquired most likely from the Amnesty Woods or possibly one of the other two woodlands (the West Woods and the Barrier Woods) that bordered the perimeter of the town.

 

2.) The grimoire was most likely made between 1692 (the founding of Amnesty) and 1725 (the arrival of the book dealer Mandrake at the Belle house on Stonehenge, including the time he lived there), making it somewhere between 280-313 years old.  This finding was based on several factors taken into consideration, including the presence of two more grimoires most likely exactly the same as the Goode Grimoire, coupled with the materials being indigenous to Amnesty.  Since there was apparently three copies of the same grimoire,  Dr. Millstone also believed, as did Pandora, that the grimoires were based on an original volume, most likely created in the Middle Ages.

"But, of course," Dr. Millstone was saying, "that is interesting in and of itself.  Because whoever created these copies of that original grimoire had to have the original at their immediate disposal.  And if these copies were, in fact, created in Amnesty then--"

"The person or persons that created them also had the original, in Amnesty."  Pandora said.

"Exactly," Professor Millstone said and nodded pensively.  He looked at Pandora with a conspiratorial grin.  "Be on the lookout, Pan," he said.  "You might just come across the original at some point.  It could still be in Amnesty, somewhere."

This possibility, also, got Pandora thinking.  For she was beginning to see a possible explanation for the origin of the grimoires, but was still not convinced.

The examination of the magical alphabet that the grimoire was coded in proved to be the biggest challenge for Dr. Millstone and Pandora.  One of the reasons for this is that Dr. Millstone's expertise in the field was basically compromised and rendered ineffective because the grimoire would not let him undertake a close examination of the text.

"I'm sorry, Pan," Dr. Millstone said.  "I would really love to see what makes this grimoire tick but, as you can see, it won't let me."

"I'm sorry, too, professor," Pandora said.

"If you find out how to cancel out that enchantment, let me know.  I'll do a rigorous study of the text for you.  It might take some doing, but I'm sure I can identify the alphabet and interpret what is written into English."

"Any suggestions?"  Pandora asked.

"Try to find out what magical alphabet it most closely relates to, in relation to the shape of the letters" Dr. Millstone said.  "Look for commonalities and familiarities in the language of the grimoire to what you know about the alphabet."

"OK."

"If none of the magical alphabets work, try the Arabic alphabet.  As strange as it sounds, the alphabet of the grimoire might be our alphabet in disguise, and the language might actually be English."

"How would I know, initially?"

Look for letters in the grimoire alphabet that seem to be the closest to the Arabic alphabet.  Then attempt to use those letters to interpret some words.  From there, it's basically a game of association with a little luck thrown in.  But the more letters you can find in common, the better your chances."

Pandora nodded.  The professor chuckled grimly.

"However, this all depends on the element of familiarity.  If it is indeed an alphabet that is unrecognizable or unknown, then there's really nothing to base any commonalities or familiars upon.  Then the grimoire just might actually be unreadable."

Dr. Millstone's former pupil sighed.  "Good to know."

Pandora thanked Dr. Millstone and left his office with the persnickety grimoire shortly thereafter.  In truth, Pandora had one more idea.  For there was someone else that she knew in Amnesty that might be able to help.

And she lived just across the street.

VIII.  INSIGHT FROM AN ELDER

Bruhhilde Ingersoll was the head of the Amnesty Elders and the town's foremost authority on Northern mythology and magic.  A nonagenarian, for the past forty plus years Brunhilde had lived in the guest house cottage on the Smythe property, which was located directly across the street from the Osbourne residence.

Within the past six months, Brunhilde had acquired a house mate, Evelyn "Evie" Meadows, an eighty-five year old woman who came to live with Brunhilde after her nearby town of Zeeland was no more.  A Wiccan solitary who had practiced the Craft (largely in secret) for over seventy years, Evie was now an Amnesty Elder and a member of Brunhilde's Elder coven.

"Pandora," Evie said when she opened the door to the Ingersoll cottage.  "Brunhilde, Pandora is here."

"Come in, Pan," Brunhilde called out from the living room.  The two women were engaged in one of their favorite past times, quilt making.

Pandora made her way into the cozy living room, where Brunhilde was sitting on a wooden rocking chair near the fireplace with a half completed tumbling block design quilt on her lap.  Evie went back and sat down on the rocking chair adjacent to Brunhilde's and began to resume work on her own creation, a crazy quilt.

"How are you, dear?"  Brunhilde asked Pandora.

"I'm fine, Brunhilde," Pandora said.

"Sit down," Brunhilde said and motioned to the sofa on the opposite side of the coffee table and the two rocking chairs that the ancient women were presently occupying.

"Thanks."

"It's not everyday that the mayor comes to visit," Brunhilde said with a mischievous glance at Evie."

"That's right," Evie said with a chuckle.

"Oh, please," Pandora said with a wave of her hand.  "You two can have the mayor of Amnesty in your living room whenever you want and she'll gladly accept the invitation.  And you know it."

Brunhilde's turn to chuckle.  "We know.  And she'd be more than welcome every time.  And she knows that."

"She does."

"So, what's on your mind, honey?"  Brunhilde asked with a searching look of insight. "Something is."

Pandora grinned.  "How do you know I just didn't come by to say "hello?"

Brunhilde and Evie exchanged amused glances.

"You live across the street, dear," Evie said.  But yet you pulled in here, first.  Something must be pretty important for you to stop here before you pull into your own driveway and go into your own house first."

"Plus the fact that you have on your "something's up" expression."

"No, I don't."  A pause.  "I have a 'something's up' expression?  Really?"

"Definitely, dear.  I've only seen it a half a million times since you were born."

"I've seen it, too, dear," Evie said.  "And I've only known you for six months."

Pandora grinned a sheepish grin.  Without further adieu, she manifested the grimoire from out of her purse and placed it on the coffee table.  Both women did a double take.

"Oh, my," Brunhilde said, putting down her quilt work.  Evie unconsciously mimicked her friend's actions.  "Is that what I think it is?"

"Well, it depends on what you think it is," Pandora said.

"The missing Goode Grimoire," Brunhilde said and leaned in for a closer look.

"Then it's indeed what you think," Pandora said.

"Where was it?  Did Charity or Guen find it misplaced?"

"You could say that," Pandora said.  She briefly explained to the two women the bizarre finding of the mysterious missing grimoire in the Belle residence on Stonehenge Drive.

"Come into the kitchen, dear," Brunhilde said and got out of her rocker.  "Bring the grimoire.  C'mon, Evie."

Pandora picked up the grimoire from off of the coffee table and followed the two old women into the kitchen.

"It's easier in here," Brunhilde said and took a seat at the round kitchen table.  "Can I see the grimoire?"  She asked.

"Sure," Pandora said, but her look was one of uncertainty.

"What's wrong, dear?"

"Well, I must warn you that you might not be able to open it.  My former college professor couldn't."

"Only Charity and Pat and you?"

"And Teg, too."

"What about the girls?"

"They haven't seen it yet."

Brunhilde nodded.  She laid a hand on the cover.  "It's spell cast," she said.  "You can feel it."  She smiled.  "Well, it's become acquainted with my vibes by now, so let's see if it likes me."

The Amnesty Elder successfully opened the ancient cover with no resistance whatsoever.

"Oh, you did it, Brun!"  Evie said excitedly.

"Interesting," Pandora said contemplative.  "So, why--"

Brunhilde began to laugh.  "I have absolutely no idea, Pan," she said.  "But let's just go with it.  Now, everybody shush for a few minutes while I look at this."

"You go, sister," Pandora said with a look at an amused Evie.

Brunhilde studied the first page intently, as if attempting to cipher it.  Obviously, something caught her interest.

"I'm pretty sure this is a dedication of some sort, probably to the Goodes."  She tapped the page with her index finger.  I would like to come back to that later.  I see something there that might make it readable."

"Really?  What?"

"Some similarities to our alphabet that might mean it's English in disguise."

"That's what my old professor said to look out for," Pandora said, pleasantly surprised.

Brunhilde nodded.  "If he was able to actually study this, I'm sure he could have figured it out." The old woman's eyes grew wide as she encountered the first actual pages of text and illustrations.

"This is different."

"How so?"

Brunhilde thought for a second before grabbing a small notebook and a pen from the kitchen counter.  She began to write.

"Evie, could you go to the book shelf and bring me these two titles, please?"

Evie accepted the notebook page that was torn out and handed to her by Brunhilde.  She quickly glanced at the contents.

"Sure, Brun.  I'll be right back."

When Evie had left, Pandora looked at Brunhilde with a sly smile.

"Brun, you seem to know something about this stuff.  More than the normal observer would."

Brunhilde smiled humbly.  "I was part of a code cracking team during WWII for the allies for a couple of years.  We had to try to intercept and decode radio messages sent out by the axis powers."

"Wow," Pandora said.  "You never told me that."

"Your parents know about it," Brunhilde said.  "So does Pat's and Charity's.  Especially Pat's, because they, of course, owned this house when I moved in."

"And this was in Denmark?"

"No, it was in London."

"You lived in England?"

"Yes, dear, for years after Denmark, and before I moved here.  I was there during the invasion."

"Wow."

"I got the books," Evie said, coming back into the kitchen with two volumes under her arm.

"Thanks."

"The first of the two volumes that Brunhilde requested Evie get from her library was an ancient volume of occult symbolism and magical alphabets.  The other, to Pandora's surprise and amusement, was a very familiar one.

"The Return Of The King by Tolkien?"

"Oh, yes,"  Brunhilde said.  "The appendix in the back is very useful concerning the languages of the little people."

"You mean like Hobbits?"

"Well, more specifically, Elves."

"So, you think that the language in the grimoire is Elvish?"

"A dialect of Sandrin, I believe," Brunhilde said with a nod and flipped through both well-worn books with familiarity.

"So it's not rune based?"

"Oh, no, dear," Brunhilde said.  "That's definite.  Nor is it any of the other common magical alphabets.  Now the dedication is a different story.  I'm sure that I can figure out.  But, unfortunately, the best I can probably do with the text of the grimoire itself is guess at what type of language it is."

"You won't be able to read it?"

"No.  I'm sorry, dear."

"Don't be sorry, Brunhilde.  Your getting farther than anybody else has.  But I do have a question."

"Sure."

"How do you know that it's Elvish?"

"Well, familiarity with Tolkien's languages.  As you know, we're taught to believe that fiction is based on reality, whether actual or parallel."

"Yes."

"So there's that.  But also, let's just say that I've seen something similar to this when I was growing up in Denmark."

"Well, Brun, thankfully you have.  So, what do you think of the grimoire itself?" 

"What do you mean, dear?"

"What do you think it's talking about?  What is being depicted?  Any ideas?"  In truth, Pandora wanted to compare Brunhilde's opinions and findings to those of Dr. Millstone and herself.

"Well, the magic depicted here is definitely not human in origin," Brunhilde said as she studied the symbols and illustrations.  "The symbolism, of course, is universal.  It's how those symbols are contextually used."  A pause.  "I would say that these are very advanced conjuring rituals not intended for humans."

"But it was given to humans, though, right?"  Pandora asked.  "Possibly as a gift?"

Brunhilde nodded.  "It would seem so, dear.  Which probably means that those giving it were not human."

"You said 'conjuring.'"  It was Evie.  "In what way?"

Brunhilde sighed.  "Most likely?  The grimoire is an instruction manual for conjuring up the magical beasts and creatures depicted in the illustrations."  She looked at her friends in a grave manner.  "That's why this is a dangerous book.  If someone were somehow able to figure out the Elvish here and they had the intent--"

"We'd have kraken in the oceans and dragons in the cities," Pandora said.

"Oh, my."  Evie said, staring at the depictions that seemed to stare back at the reader.

"Exactly," Brunhilde said.  "As you both know, these creatures exist in an invisible realm parallel to ours.  With the right spells and incantations, it's not impossible at all to open the door into our dimension and let them in."

"So, why give such a dangerous book to humans?"  Pandora asked.  "I don't get it."

"Well, the humans that the grimoires were given to are very advanced in the magical arts," Brunhilde said.  "So, it isn't like they were handing out guns to children.  But still, you're right, dear.  It does seem very strange."

"Alright," Pandora said.  "We have grimoires that were basically proven to have originated here in Amnesty.  Most likely, the original grimoire that these copies are based on was also created in the exact same way by the exact same non-human creatures, here in Amnesty.  The original is probably still in Amnesty somewhere.  They apparently were created out of natural materials commonly found in Amnesty by non-humans.  They were given to the founding families of Amnesty, apparently as gifts of some sort."  She paused and looked at Brunhilde with a conspiratorial look.  "See where I'm going with this?"

Brunhilde smiled and nodded.  "Yes, dear.  I know where you're going with this.  The only place that's left to go."

Evie was confused.  "I don't understand," she said.

Brunhilde chuckled.  "I think that Pandora and I both know where these grimoires came from and who authored them," she said with a look at Pandora.  "But the final answer most likely lies in the dedication in the front."

"Then let's crack it," Pandora said.

Pandora and Evie watched with astonished intent as Brunhilde went to work on figuring out the possible dedication to the Goode Grimoire.

As professor Millstone had suggested, Brunhilde began by jotting down the letters in the passage that most closely resembled the Arabic alphabet.  Fortunately, there were a few. Then, the Amnesty elder began to substitute these possibilities into the text.

"In that position in the sentence, that could be 'grimoire'"  Pandora said.

"And that might be the word 'this', maybe?" Evie said.  "It sort of looks like it.  And if that word is 'grimoire,' then it would fit."

After this process was accomplished, the trio had decided on the certainty of approximately a third of the contents.  Although the entire message could not be read yet, enough was known to conclude that it was, in fact, a dedication.

"All right," Brunhilde said.  "The rest is basically guess work."

The next few minutes were spent guessing at some of the unknown words.  Since the women were sure that it was a dedication to Lady Goode and/or the Goode family (and since they were pretty certain by who), these conjectures were plugged in and experimented with.  Soon, what used to be only in code was entirely in English:

          Amnesty, 1692-- This grimoire is dedicated to Lady Catherine

    Goode and her future generations-- as an outward, visible sign of the

    binding and longstanding pact between us.  May it never be forgotten.

                     Aldaron and Celestia

Pandora exchanged victorious glances with Brunhilde and Evie.

"Bingo," she said.

IX.  THE MEETING

Pandora went back over to her house shortly after Brunhilde, Evie and she had figured out the grimoire's cryptic dedication.

"Is that it?"  Connie asked and extended a limp index finger towards the mysterious book in her mother's hand.

"It is," Pandora said, abrupt, as she playfully slapped her daughter's finger.

"Can I see?"

"Later.  When the others come over at eight."

"Whatever," Connie shrugged.  "Can we eat, at least?"

"Yes.  In fifteen minutes."

Connie sprinted up the steps to her room.  "I have homework.  Call me."

At eight o'clock, the Goodes and Smythes, along with Brunhilde and Evie, showed up at the Osbournes.  After Pandora had related her time spent with professor Millstone earlier that day and the findings concerning the age and construction of the grimoire, Brunhilde explained the ciphering of the coded dedication in detail.  Once the dedication was read to the group, looks of open-mouthed surprise could be seen on the faces of the Goodes, Smythes and Connie.

"Aldaron and Celestia?"  Charity asked in disbelief.  "The king and queen of the Keepers? Really?"

"Uh, huh."

"Wow."  Patience said.  After a few second's thought, "well, from what you found out at the college today, Pan, it does seem to add up."

The girls had other thoughts on their minds.

"Alright," Guen said, frustrated.  "The only people in the room who still haven't seen the grimoire are the youngest."

"Yeah," Yarra said.  "And why is that, again?"

Pandora smiled, amused.  "The reason I've held the grimoire back so far is because you three might help to prove and confirm something."

"Such as?"  Connie asked.

"Yeah," Guen said, puzzled.  "I thought you just established who wrote it."

"That's not what I want you to prove and confirm,"  Pandora said and handed the ancient volume to Guen.

"What, then?"

"Well, have at it a bit," Pandora said with a wave of her hand.  "See what you see."

"Can we take it up to my room for a few minutes?"  Connie asked.

"Sure," Pandora said and checked her watch.  "Fifteen or twenty minutes.  We'll be waiting."

"C'mon, guys," Connie said to Guen and Yarra and led the way upstairs.

Patience looked at Pandora, not sure what was going on.

"What do you want them to see?"  She asked.

Pandora grinned.  "Well, hopefully what you and Charity apparently can't, because of your amnesia."  She said.

Patience turned to an equally confused Charity.

"Huh?"  Both said in unison, as Brunhilde and Evie burst into laughter.

Twenty minutes later...

"So, what did you guys think?"

"This book is wild," Yarra said, all smiles.

"Yeah," Guen said, equally pleased.  "Love the drawings.  They're so real."

"Did all three of you try to open the grimoire?"  Charity asked.

"Yes," Guen nodded.  "Even Yarra could open it."

"Good, honey," Patience said and laid a gentle hand on her daughter's shoulder.  "Feel better?"

"Yes," Yarra said, lighthearted.  "I'm on the team."  A giggle.

"That you are, girl."

Pandora looked at Brunhilde.  "So, what do ya think about the spell, Brun?"

"You mean why could I open it, not being a member of the founding families?"

"Yes.  Remember that Evie could open it, too."

Yarra went over to Evie and gave her a hug.  "We're both on the team, Evie!"  She said. "Yay!"

"Yay!"  Evie echoed and returned the young girl's hug with a laugh.

After a moment's thought, Brunhilde spoke.  "The spell probably only recognizes members of the founding families and high ranking town officials.  Elders are third behind active and former witch queens."

"Members of the town counsel.  Of course.  Works for me," Pandora said with pursed lips.  Her fellow witch queens agreed.

The mayor of Amnesty turned to her daughter.  "So, what did you guys think of the language it's written in?"  She asked, hoping that the girls would back her up.

"Well, we couldn't read it, obviously."

"But you've seen it before?"

"Yes, I think we have.  And so have you guys."  Connie looked at her mother, quizzical. "Don't you remember?"

Pandora with a wide smile turned to Charity and Patience.  "There's your amnesia."  She said.

X.  TO THE TEMPLE

Charity and Patience's "amnesia," as Pandora liked to put it, was the fact that the two witch queens could not remember  that they had, indeed, seen the mysterious language that the grimoires were written in, some six months before.  This was approximately three weeks after the solving of the Amnesty Murder Case involving Allegra DiAmicci and her two friends, Vanessa Sanchez and Rosa Conceptión.  The witch queens and their daughters had made a trip to the Amnesty woods to purify the Wiccan shrine that was desecrated by the storing of almost fifty corpses tortured and brutally murdered by the Angels of Death, the henchmen of Mother Black, the fundamentalist leader of the now-defunct town of Zeeland.  While on their way to the shrine, the group came across an extremely ancient stone temple, complete with monoliths and a courtyard.  Carved on the monoliths was a language that was very similar to the language in which the grimoires were written.  And while the girls recognized this immediately and Pandora did as well after her trip to Rockford University, Charity and Patience were of the opinion that the language looked familiar but, for some reason, had no recollection of it.  However, when the Amnesty temple was mentioned, the two witch queens' memories were immediately jogged.

It was Saturday morning, and the witch queens, their daughters, Integrity, Brunhilde and Evie were all making their way down to the temple to attempt answers to two as-of-yet unanswered questions: 1.) was the language in the grimoire really the same as the one on the temple monoliths and 2.) was the temple, in fact, created by the Keepers, as the witch queens had concluded on their first trip there six months before.  Of course, since it was now known beyond the shadow of a doubt that the authors of the grimoires were Aldaron and Celestia, the king and queen of the Keepers, a perfect match of the language on the monoliths to that of the grimoire would undeniably prove that the Temple and the grimoire both had, in fact, originated from the same source.

For Integrity, Brunhilde and Evie, the ancient temple was surprising, to say the least. Neither woman had seen anything like it before, not being with the witch queens and Guen, Yarra and Connie when they were down in the Amnesty Woods the first time.

"This is wild," Integrity said when the group had reached the courtyard of the temple.  "It looks like Stonehenge, or something."

"It has the same function, most likely, dear," Brunhilde said as she looked around.  "Some sort of area of worship and astronomical mapping."

"It definitely is an area of worship," Pandora said.  "At least the temple is.  There's an altar inside."

"But this is not human worship," Brunhilde said as she walked over to one of the large monoliths. The Amnesty Elder had a pen and small notebook with her.  She was followed by Charity, who had the Goode Grimoire in hand.  "Open the grimoire, dear," Brunhilde said.  "Let's see if we can find any similarities between these two texts."

Some time later, after Brunhilde had studied the writing on all of the monoliths present and had taken note of similarities, she turned to the other members of the group.

"I think that that is enough compare and contrast to make a decision," she said.

"And?"  Pandora asked, eager to know Brunhilde's conclusion.

"Almost all of the letters found in the grimoire are also found on the monoliths.  I also found many instances of the same exact word and, in a couple of instances, the same exact phrase."

"So, it's the same language, then?"

"Yes.  And not only the same language, but the occult symbolism found in the grimoire is also represented on the monoliths to some degree.  At least in part."

"And that would mean that the authors of the grimoires and the builders of this temple are --"

"The Keepers of the Amnesty woods?"  Brunhilde finished with a large smile.  "Yes, definitely.  One and the same."

XI.  DREAMSCAPE

That same night, the three witch queens were collectively engaged in a very real dreamscape.

They dreamed of leaving their homes and meeting each other in the wide clearing in front of the Amnesty Woods.  Neither spoke, but each knew their destination.

As they entered the woods and took the pathway that would eventually lead to the Amnesty River, one of Aldaron and Celestia's elf attendants met them at a hidden pathway that led to The Keeper Tree, the abode of the Keepers.  The Keeper tree was rumored to be nearly two thousand years old. It was the largest and by far the oldest tree in the Amnesty Woods.  Ten people could join hands and form a ring around it with ease.  It was an enchanted tree in an enchanted area, and the location of its whereabouts was only known by the witch queens.  Anyone not authorized who came too close to The Keeper Tree would be subject to the forgetful spells of fairies, usually falling into a deep sleep and waking up hours later in another part of the woods or near the clearing at the beginning of the woods with absolutely no recollection of ever falling asleep or, in some cases, entering the Amnesty Woods in the first place.

For there were only two ways to approach the Keepers.  One was by invitation, which was extremely rare.  The second was through the medium of dreams.  This second option was far more common and convenient.  (Although most witch queens were considered fortunate to have only one personal invitation and/or one dreamscape during their entire careers.  In truth, the mothers and grandmothers of Charity, Patience and Pandora, being witch queens during the time that the Amnesty Woods had been cursed, were not even aware of the existence of the Keepers.  And it had only been in the past six months that Charity, Patience and Pandora were aware of that vital existence themselves.)  This would be the second time that the current witch queens had come in contact with the lords of the Amnesty Woods.  The first time was a rare personal invitation to renew the pact between the Keepers and the witch queens following the lifting of the eighty year curse placed upon the Amnesty Woods by the Keepers after the murders and burial of the Girls In White Dresses and the Fifty Victims.

In truth, all of the questions concerning the mysterious grimoires were answered by Aldaron and Celestia that early morning.  When the witch queens awoke hours later, it was with a new perspective and understanding concerning the grimoires in general and the strange events surrounding the Goode Grimoire in particular.  They, along with Guen,  Yarra, Connie, Integrity, Brunhilde and Evie, met at the Smythe residence to compare notes.

XII.  THE FINAL ACT

"So, all three of you guys had the exact same dream?"  Integrity asked the witch queens.

"Yes," Charity said to her sister.  "It's not the first time," she added with a sly look at Patience and Pandora.  They returned the look.

"Wild," Yarra said, excited.  "So, what did you guys find out?"

"Well, we learned some new things, and other things that we thought we knew about the grimoires were confirmed by Aldaron and Celestia," Pandora said.

"Such as?"  Connie asked.

"Well, the grimoires are copies of an original grimoire that was written and created by Aldaron and Celestia," Pandora said.  "The original is over a thousand years-old."

"Where is it?"  Guen asked.

"With Aldaron and Celestia in The Keeper Tree," Pandora said.  She smiled.  "We got to see it."

"Cool!"  It was Yarra.

"Yes, it was, honey," Patience said to her daughter.

"What else?"

"All three grimoires are exactly the same inside and out," Charity said, picking up where Pandora left off.  Pandora and Dr. Millstone were right on about the materials and such."

"You go, Pan," Guen said with a playful grin.

"So, what's the deal with the book dealer guy?"  Connie asked.  "Did he steal the grimoire or what?  Did Lady Goode like him?"

"Well, as you know, Con," Patience said, "Mandrake was commissioned by the witch queens to appraise their libraries.  Because the Goode's library was so much bigger, he was at Lady Goode's house more, so yes, there was some sort of something going on between the two.  But apparently, it was mostly one-sided."

"Huh?"

"Lady Goode honestly liked Mandrake, and Mandrake probably did like Lady Goode initially, at least as a friend, but that all changed after he found the grimoire."

"So, he found it, it wasn't shown to him by Lady Goode?"

"It wasn't shown to him, no," Patience said.  "He happened to find the secret compartment while he was in the library.  He asked Lady Goode about the grimoire, but she wouldn't tell him anything, just that it was "a special gift."  When he offered to buy it from her she refused, of course.  But somewhere in there, he found out that there were, in fact, three grimoires, not just one."

"How?  Did she tell him?"

"That I'm not sure about," Patience said, looking to the other two witch queens for help. They could provide none.

"Either she mentioned the other two, or Mandrake found out from Ladies Smythe and Osbourne," Charity said.  "But anyway, the secret got out.  And the other two witch queens also refused to sell."

"So, he did steal it?"  Connie asked.

Charity nodded.  "He did steal it, but not actually himself.  As Ladies Smythe and Osbourne claimed, Mandrake had an accomplice-- someone working for him in the book trade but never seen in Amnesty before-- to go to the Goode party and steal it for him."

"So, that's how the grimoire ended up on Stonehenge," Brunhilde said.

"Yes."

"And most likely, neither Mandrake or his accomplice could open the grimoire when they stole it," Integrity said.

"Yes, again."

"So, did you find out who can and can not open the grimoires?"  Brunhilde asked.

"Former, present and future Witch Queens, and Amnesty officials on the Witch Queen and Elder Board Counsel."

"Well, that explains why Evie and I could open it," Brunhilde said.

"And me, too," Yarra said, happy that she was included.

"And why Dr. Millstone couldn't," Pandora said with an amused grin.

"Oh, poor Dr. Millstone!" Yarra said with a giggle.  After the laughter from the others died down, Charity continued.

"Aldaron told us that when Mandrake left Amnesty, he left the grimoire behind, because he wasn't successful up to that point in selling it."

"Why did he leave Amnesty, I wonder?"  Evie asked.

"Because the rumor was getting around town that he stole property from a witch queen," Pandora answered.  "And not only a witch queen, but a witch queen that he was supposedly very close to.  It was also at this time, according to the Keepers, that Ladies Smythe and Osbourne actually confronted him about it."

"What happened?"  Yarra asked, wide-eyed.

"He denied it," Pandora explained.  "They basically told him to leave town, or he would be investigated by the authorities."

"So he left," Guen said.

"Yep.  And that's that whole bit about the Belle house being foreclosed on and stuff," Patience said.  After a few seconds thought, she continued.  "And that is also the same time that Ladies Smythe and Osbourne got the craftsman in to build the iron mesh works for their own grimoires.  So originally, the grimoires were just kept in the secret hiding places, unbound."

"I don't get why, if the grimoire was left behind by Mandrake, someone didn't find it and return it," Connie said.

"Good question," Pandora said to her daughter.  "Well, first of all, no one could open it and, even if they did, they couldn't read who it belonged to anyway.  They knew that the book was enchanted, so most likely they didn't want to take any chances of getting rid of it themselves."

"And the fact that whoever moved in to the Belle house would have been new to the town, so they wouldn't have known the whole story any way, and wouldn't have known who it belonged to, either."

"Yeah, I get that," Connie said, still not satisfied with the answer, "but wouldn't it have been known by those that foreclosed on the house, or something?  I mean-- wouldn't someone have found it and known what it was?  Like, maybe Mandrake hid it somewhere, or something?"

"But if he hid it," Guen said thoughtfully, "how did my mom find it on the bookshelf, out in the open?"

"Unless someone found it after he hid it."  Evie suggested.

Connie shook her head.  "No.  Something just doesn't make sense.  All that time that passed and no one found the book anywhere, or if they did, no one tried to get rid of it or find out about it?  I mean, come on-- we're talking about almost three-hundred years, here."

The witch queens exchanged glances.  Suddenly, Charity remembered something.

"Connie might be right about that," she said to her fellow witch queens.  "I could have sworn that when I first entered the house and passed the bookshelf, that there was nothing there.  It was totally empty."

"So, what are you saying?"  Patience asked, now getting interested.  "It was invisible, or something?"

Charity shrugged.  "Maybe.  I don't know.  But Connie does have a point.  You would think that at some point in the beginning, just after this all happened, that someone would have found the grimoire and known the story behind it."

"I take it that the Keepers didn't explain this part to you guys?"  Integrity asked, amused.

"No."

"Humphf."

"I guess there still has to be some mystery retained about these books," Pandora said with a thoughtful shrug.

So now that all was known that possibly could be known about the three grimoires, there was only one thing left to do.

Charity hired a reputable craftsman from the Amnesty area that was the direct descendant of the craftsman that created the iron mesh work for the Smythe and Osbourne Grimoires.  This was found out from a study of the Smythe and Osbourne family journals.  The craftsman, a Wiccan like his ancestor, was eager to observe and emulate the work of his descendant, and more than willing to create a permanent, safe home for the Goode Grimoire.  However, before work could begin, the craftsman was required to appear before the Amnesty witch queen and elders board and swear an oath of secrecy concerning his knowledge of the grimoires' existence and location.

For as Charity had said at the emergency witch queen and elder board meeting (dealing with what action to take concerning the three grimoires), "it might be different having the grimoire in possession once again, but one thing is not different.  The fact that these books are potentially dangerous.  I know that they are enchanted and all, but I would rather play it safe.  And I believe that I have the mind of the Keepers concerning this.  Besides.  I can't read the book or use anything in it.  And neither would I want to."

"Charity's right," Pandora said.  "These grimoires are best if admired from afar, under lock and key."

And to the present day, that is how the three grimoires of the Goodes, Smythes and Osbournes are admired:  in their secret resting places behind their corresponding bookshelves, bound underneath their custom made iron mesh works.  In other words,

from afar.

Reviews

[JayG]

For what it might be worth, some things jumped out at me as I read, and I thought you might want to know.

In this, from start to finish, it’s a transcription of you explaining the story’s events and their meanings TO the reader. But that approach has several significant problems that aren’t obvious to the author.

1. Because you know the setting, the characters, and the backstory before you read the first word, you'll leave out what seems obvious to you. For you, each line acts as a pointer to backstory, intent, images, and more, all stored in your mind. So for you, the detail is perfect. And for you, the voice of the narrator—your vice—is filled with emotion.

But what of the reader? They have no access to your intent and they can neither see nr hear your performance. For them, each line acts as a pointer to backstory, intent, images, and more, all stored in *YOUR* mind. And without you there to clarify, all they have is what your words suggest to them, based on what’s gone before in the story, and what the words suggest, based on their background.

2. When we “tell” a story to the audience, as you do here, it’s a performance, and HOW you perform—gesture, change of expression, eye movement, body-language, and your use of the magic instrument we call the human voice, all contribute to the audience enjoyment. But not a trace of that makes the page, so the methodology of stage performance cannot work. And the essay writing skills we use in our school days can't work, so the methodology of the fiction-writer must replace it.

Since readers can’t know the things we take for granted, and can’t either see or hear our performance, instead of the nonfiction, outside-in methodology, we need to use the tricks that make the reader feel as if they’re on the scene in real-time, living the story AS the protagonist, and from within the moment the protagonist calls “now.” We must make the reader CARE, not just know. And the way to do that is to involve, not inform.

Remember, professions are learned in addition to the general skill sets we’re given in our public education years. And there, to prepare us for the kind of writing our future employers expect, we focus on the skills of writing reports and essays—nonfiction. So without the necessary skills, and using the essay and report writing skills we were given, the narrator, whose voice we can’t hear, of necessity, appears dispassionate. Have your computer read this piece aloud to hear how different what the protagonist hears is from what you intended them to “hear.”

Let's look at a few lines, not as someone who knows the characters, the setting, and what’s going on before they read the first line, but as the reader, who is seeking an emotional experience.

• When Guenevere Goode was young, she and her friends Yarra Govinda-Smythe and Constance Osbourne loved to spend hours in their large home libraries, reading and perusing the thousands of ancient books that each of their families possessed.

First: What can this mean to someone who doesn’t know if we’re on planet Earth, anything about the society she grew up in, what the term “large home,” means in terms of THIS story, or know ANYTHING that would provide context? My apartment, for example, has two bedrooms and provides 1800 ft/sq of space. That’s large by my standards. But for many, 1050 ft/sq is felt to be large.

What’s ancient? To my granddaughter, who is eight, that would be 1974. To me… But what does it mean to her? And why does the reader care if she read in there or played games? What matters to her in the moment she calls now matters to the reader because it’s HER story, not yours.

When you say young, what is that to mean to a reader who could see that as seven, seventeen, or twenty-five? Story deals in specifics, not general historical detail provided in overview. We read fiction as a form of entertainment, and expect to be made to FEEL, not read the transcription of an informational lecture.

Next: Why do I, as someone who possesses zero knowledge of this person, and who doesn’t know how old she is when the story takes place, care about things that happened an unknown number of years before the story begins? Why do I care how thick the cover of an unknown book is? You’re dwelling on visual trivia in a medium that doesn’t reproduce vision. Would the story change were the cover to be thinner, or thicker? If not, why waste one word on it? In fact, why open a story just to talk about what happened before it opened. If it matters, begin there, with story, not history.

Why do I dwell on this? Because this is probably where, and why. an acquiring editor would stop reading.

• Many of these volumes were several hundred years old and were first edition and long out-of-print classics on the occult, mythology, religion, literature, history, art, architecture and various other topics.

You just told the reader a few generalities about books that are irrelevant to the story. That’s a report. And how many of them have you heard called page-turners?

The short version: Grab the reader by the throat on page one and don’t let go. As E. L. Doctorow put it: “Good writing is supposed to evoke sensation in the reader, not the fact that it’s raining, but the feeling of being rained upon.”

My point? Show, don’t tell. That doesn’t mean to include visual detail, it means to place the reader into the protagonist’s persona, on the scene so realistically they feel as if they’re living the scene in real-time. THAT'S where the fun of reading lies. Who cares that the protagonist of a horror story feels terror. I want the author to terrorize ME, and make ME afraid to turn out the lights.

Why does placing the reader into the protagonist's viewpoint matter? And how does that make the story more exciting and realistic? This article might clarify:
https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/2011/09/22/the-grumpy-writing-coach-8/

For a condensation of one very powerful way of placing the reader into the scene so vividly that if someone throws a rock at the protagonist the reader ducks, try the article below, a condensation of a method outlined in Dwight Swain’s, Techniques of the Selling Writer, the best book on the nuts-and-bolts of fiction that I’ve found to date.
http://www.advancedfictionwriting.com/art/scene.php

I know this wasn’t what you were hoping to hear. Who would? But it’s an issue you share with the majority of hopeful writers, and as I said, I thought you might want to know.

Hang in there and keep on writing.

Jay Greenstein
https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/category/the-craft-of-writing/the-grumpy-old-writing-coach/