Candace Meredith earned her Bachelor of Science degree in English Creative Writing from Frostburg State University in the spring of 2008. Her works of poetry, photography and fiction have appeared in literary journals Bittersweet, Backbone Mountain Review, Anthology 17, Greensilk Journal, Saltfront and The Broadkill Review. She currently works as a Freelance Editor for an online publishing company and has earned her Master of Science degree in Integrated Marketing and Communications (IMC) from West Virginia University.
Here is an excerpt from Candace’s New Book Winter Solstice
In the dark room, lit only by candlelight over what appears to be a shrine, is a pentagram inscribed on the concrete floor; flowers and plants decorate the room and the shrine is filled with photographs of natural landscapes.
“This is the room where you can feel safe to practice,” Sterling says, waving her hand over the candle until it burns brighter.
“But what exactly am I practicing?”
“The ancient Lore.”
“Also called witchcraft by some. Mostly non-believers.”
“Are you Pagan?”
“Only by those who practice witchcraft,” she winks.
“Why do you call it Lore?”
“Somewhat like folklore, believed not to be real by most persons – and for the negative stigmatism associated with the craft.”
“So then I am practicing witchcraft.”
“You’re practicing the ancient Lore,” she smiles, “not to be confusing. But to be politically correct.”
She waves her hands over Hanna’s petite face; her palms glow brightly with radiant energy as she begins to chant…
The room turns to dark as the bell clangs against the glass to the front entrance.
“I know I locked the door,” Sterling says, “wait right here,” she says, and exits the back room.
Making her way to the front of the store she tip toes, feeling her way through the dark, stopping at the touch of a hand on her back; she turns abruptly.
“Always the wise one,” Sterling says, reaching for a light switch when she hears the snap of fingers and the lights flare.
“My dear sweet sister,” the woman exclaims, who stands around six feet in height with large proportions and a pointed chin with sharp jaw lines.
“You have always been adept with telekinesis,” Sterling insists, “but I appreciate a knock over barging in…”
“Tisk. Tisk.” Her sister says, whisking her body forward, lurking over the enchantments.
“What are you doing here, dear sister?” Sterling asks quizzically, suspicious.
“Well you know, don’t you, dear little sister, I mean you are the psychic twin aren’t you?”
“Born only a minute apart, I assure you don’t have to emphasize smallness…”
“Oh come off it, sister,” she exhales with a wry grin, “I have always been the bigger sister.”
“But you have yet to say why you have come here…”
Continued in book . . .
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