Spotlight
Synopsis: Marina Magaña struggles to get through each day after her sister’s recent suicide. One day, though, Marina finds a mysterious locket, and soon after, a mysterious figure—the gray man—appears. She doesn’t know what to make of the strange events that follow, but she comes to understand that the gray man is more powerful than she could ever have imagined. Marina must find out if she has what it takes to move on before it’s too late: before she, or someone she loves, gets caught between her mistakes and the power of the gray man.
Excerpt
She stares at me, unmoving, with eyes as dull as dirt. Her dark hair hangs straight down either side of her face, flowing over her shoulders. Her hands dangle at her sides, and her jeans cling to her skinny legs. I scowl when I see her bare feet.
For Christ’s sake, I say, why aren’t you wearing shoes? I scoop air with my hand, implying she should come along with me, come my way. Let’s go, I say.
No, she says, I can’t.
I turn on my heels, pivoting in the snow. Stop being so difficult. Come on.
She refuses again, so I offer new reasons she should change her mind: It’s dinnertime, so we should go home and eat. Mom made brownies. Don’t you know how good those are? Oscar will eat them all if we’re not there. And hey, the snow’s getting bad: the storm will be here soon. Don’t you care? Well, when we get home I’ll make some hot cocoa and we can sit by the fireplace. Warm up. Get cozy. None of this works, though, and each failed attempt makes me feel weaker.
Please? I say, as I have no more arguments in me. My arms are heavy, no good for gesturing or tugging. Just for me, I say, because I’m asking? Come on. Please?
No, she says, and she means it.
Since she won’t budge, I lunge at her, counting on the element of surprise. Instead, I stumble, feeling physically confused, as if I’ve reached for a stair step that doesn’t exist, because Rachel is still standing, still out of reach. I push myself up onto my knees and tell her I don’t want to fight right now, but she needs to come home.
I sigh, frustrated and tired. I look up at her, meeting her eyes. To be honest, Mom’s really worried, I say.
I’m not going back.
God, you’re such a bitch sometimes, I say. I get up and brush the snow from my knees and jacket. To make my hands warm again, I shove them in my pockets, and I glance at Rachel. She hasn’t left again—she’s still there—but the air between us is brittle. It could fracture if I’m not careful. I admit that I’m tired, very tired, and I want her to follow me home.
Marina, I can’t come with you.
Yeah, you can, I say. It’ll be easy. Remember the time you snuck into the movies with me? It’s like that—just act like you belong, I say. I stare at her, waiting for her to smile, to blink. I wait for her to say yes.
But Marina, she says, I’m dead. Rachel tilts her head slightly—it’s the only move she’s made. Deader than a doornail, hombre.
I reach out to touch her forearm, to graze it with my fingertips, but I can’t reach. I’m not close enough. So I take a step, then another and another, never getting close enough. She is slipping away in pieces.
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