I kicked at the leaves that clogged the gutter, swirling them up into whirling storms of energy. It pleased me, the scranch, scrunch, crunch of my boots attacking the shaggy mounds. Crack! I booted something hard.
     Whoosh! A shimmering pink ball rocketed out from the dancing leaves. A shooting star, I thought.
     It arced high and hovered before swiftly dropping to clatter across the road. Curious, I sprinted to follow.
     A horn blared. A fast, shiny car was snaking and sliding along the road. It had narrowly missed me, and screeched to a halt alarmingly close. Startled, I stared at the menacing, pop-eyed baboon behind the wheel clutching a cell phone as the window swiftly descended.
     "Stupid little girl," Ape Face barked savagely, glaring at me. "Do you want to get yourself killed?" He roared the engine, then clamped his large mouth firmly shut, obviously not liking what he heard from his phone. He continued to stare accusingly at me.
     "What?" I screamed, shocked and angry, knowing he’d been speeding down our narrow, winding road. Mum and I had seen him before. "You were going too fast! Jerk!" I shouted defiantly. It wasn’t all my fault. He had been ripping along yabbering away on his phone.
     I stood frozen to the road, staring at him. His face swelled, reddened, eyes turning squinty, while his cell phone squeaked and jibbered. His mouth bulged out like a grouper fish’s, and he zonked away in an explosion of gravel and exhaust fumes. The bloated blue machine slithered off like a hungry shark after escaping prey.

     I was trembling. Silly me, I thought. I shouldn’t have been chasing a silly old ball across the road. That’s kids’ stuff. Why should I care about a reject ball skittering down the road? But it had been a very, very, boring morning, and I got a buzz from kicking up leaves.
     Where was the stupid thing? I wondered as I stomped at the soggy, decayed heap, scuffling it toward a drain. Something smelt dead down there. I turned to leave, but then my boot clonked against the tiny ball and it rolled clear of the mess.
     I picked it up. It glowed a glittering, shimmering pink. Wow! I thought. A perfect humdinger of a golf ball. It was oddly warm, and I heard faint, tinkly music pulsing from it as it quivered in my fingers. That close shave with the car must’ve done something to my noodle, I thought. But the ball felt pleasing in my hand and I absently rubbed it against my cheek toward my ear, listening to its urgent, radio-like hisses and pops.
     Don’t be late! Hurry! the ball whispered knowingly.
     What? I marveled. Is this a dream? Late? Late for what? Then, I suddenly remembered that I was late for my karate class. I ran home, grabbed my gear, and ran the two blocks to the community hall.
     None of the other girls noticed me as I joined the back row, puffing from the run. I did a few quick stretches. The karate punches and kicks made me feel strong and powerful. We were Amazon girls, I imagined, training up for adventures, battles, and unknown journeys. As I fought unseen assailants, the huge wall mirror rippled back the reflection of our determined faces as we kicked and lunged.
     All the while, the sparkling ball lay hidden in my jacket pocket.

To Order and learn more about Bewitching Golf click here:
 
Click here to browse in our Online Book Store
To take a tour of our Publishing House Click here:
©Pearl Street Publishing, LLC 1999-2007