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    Nemezia and the Wooden Sword
    Nemezia and the Wooden Sword
    Nemezia and the Wooden Sword
    Ebook100 pages1 hour

    Nemezia and the Wooden Sword

    By M. C. Oliveira

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    About this ebook

    Have you ever found a button on the floor and wondered how it got there. Miss Jennings was noisy old woman and suspicious of everyone in this small neighbourhood. Nothing would have changed except she discovered a secret which changed her life and the life of others.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAuthorHouse
    Release dateAug 14, 2012
    ISBN9781477237229
    Nemezia and the Wooden Sword
    Author

    M. C. Oliveira

    M.C. Oliveira was born and raised in Fall River, Massachusetts. As a young child growing up with her four siblings, she didn't have much. As a result she developed a vivid imagination. As a young adult she struggled as a single parent caring for her daughter and ill parents. As she eventually wed and her family grew, she would make up bed time stories for her three children. In 2009 when she witnessed her fathers passing she realized how precious life was and looked back at her life as a child. This inspired her idea's to write and share her stories with other families

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      Book preview

      Nemezia and the Wooden Sword - M. C. Oliveira

      © 2012 by M. C. Oliveira. All rights reserved.

      No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

      Published by AuthorHouse 08/07/2012

      ISBN: 978-1-4772-3723-6 (sc)

      ISBN: 978-1-4772-3722-9 (e)

      Library of Congress Control Number: 2012912051

      Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

      Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

      This book is printed on acid-free paper.

      Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Over the mountains of Greenland, there is a whole other world where we all have been at some point in our lives. It is a place we do not talk about or mention, not even to our closest friends. It is a magnificent place, yet it’s amazing how we forget about it so quickly, even though it is with us throughout our lives.

      Sometimes, a smell of a rose will bring us back to a romantic evening. The smell of apple pie takes us back to Grandma’s kitchen. A butterfly flies around us and gives us a sense of how precious life is. Yet we do not remember the most exciting, breathtaking experience of our lives.

      Button%20Picture.jpg

      Chapter 1

      It was almost midnight on this summer evening on Chestnut Street. Miss Jennings was sitting at her white cherrywood vanity in her bedroom, facing a small mirror. With only the moonlight shining through the bedroom blinds, she could barely see herself as she set black curlers in her short, red hair. Her furry white cat, Snowball, lay on the floor near her feet, patiently waiting for her to get into bed so he could climb into the bottom of the sheets. But Miss Jennings was not in a hurry to get into bed that night; she had been waiting for this night for twenty-eight days.

      She waited patiently for the dark oak grandfather clock at the end of the hallway to chime midnight. Every few minutes, she would put on her oversized pink-framed eyeglasses to take a quick glance at the clock. Her glasses covered practically half of her face.

      Five more minutes ’til midnight, Snowball, she said excitedly as she rubbed her hands together. She stood up and pulled her green silk nightgown away from her waist, where it was stuck between the rolls of fat. She slowly tiptoed to the window at the right of her bed and separated the blinds with the tips of her fingers, just enough to peek at Mr. Spindle’s house. She could see his front porch perfectly from where she was standing.

      He’s not there yet, Snowball, she whispered. We must be patient. I know he’ll be home soon.

      Mr. Spindle had lived directly across the street from Miss Jennings, at 100 Chestnut Street, for about six months. Miss Jennings was certain that ever since Mr. Spindle moved into the neighborhood, things had not been the same. Mysterious things had happened, and Miss Jennings was determined to get to the bottom of it. She’d been watching him very closely; in fact, she suspected he lived in an empty house, as she’d seen him bring in only a small antique suitcase.

      Mr. Spindle’s little white cottage was situated in the middle of a small yard, surrounded by a white picket fence. The cottage had black shutters and a porch that wrapped all the way around the perimeter. The beautiful pink and sky-blue roses that grew around his porch gave out a calming scent throughout the neighborhood. Just outside his front door were a small black wicker table and a rocking chair, where he often would drink coffee, smoke cigars, and read the newspaper. Mr. Spindle was tall, thin, and bald, with a thick gray mustache that hung to the middle of his chest. He always dressed in blue overalls with a white T-shirt and black boots. Mr. Spindle walked around with an odd cane that resembled an old tree branch—he would not go anywhere without it. Unlike his neighbor Miss Jennings, Mr. Spindle was a quiet man who minded his own business.

      Miss Jennings had noticed that at night, during a full moon, Mr. Spindle looked as if he was going somewhere special. He would wear a black suit with a white button-down shirt and a strange tie with different colored buttons on it. His black dress shoes were so shiny, he could see his reflection in them.

      He looks so silly with that stupid tie! Miss Jennings would exclaim to her neighbors. Most people thought she had the hots for Mr. Spindle, since she watched his every move.

      On this night, Miss Jennings expected nothing different. As her fingers shook nervously in between the blinds, she heard the clock chime midnight. Miss Jennings watched Mr. Spindle’s house for several minutes and then noticed him step out onto his front porch. There he is, Snowball, she whispered with excitement. He had a cigar in one hand and the crooked cane in the other, just as expected. She watched as he sat in his rocking chair, staring at the moon with a smile, seeming to enjoy the cool breeze blowing through his mustache. Miss Jennings looked up at the moon herself to see what he was smiling at, but she didn’t see anything except an immense, bright moon. Moments later, however, the leaves on the maple tree in his front yard began changing color—blue, then back to green, and then purple, red, white, and yellow! She then glanced at Mr. Spindle rocking very calmly back and forth in his wicker chair as if nothing unusual was occurring. At first, she thought she was imagining things, so Miss Jennings reached over to grab her glasses from her nightstand. As she slowly separated the blinds once more, she saw that the leaves were brighter than they had been just moments ago.

      I knew it! I knew he was up to something, she whispered to Snowball. Suddenly, the leaves began falling off the tree and, for a few moments, glided around Mr. Spindle’s yard. They then began to flap up and down like birds. The leaves set off into the air and flew down the street toward Bella’s house. Bella was one of Miss Jennings neighbors. Miss Jennings watched as the leaves surrounded Bella’s rooftop. She was so excited that her fingers slipped off the blinds and made a loud clunking noise. She quickly stepped away from the window and waited a few minutes before peeking through again. She didn’t want Mr. Spindle to see her spying on him. Holding her nightgown up away from her feet, Miss Jennings peeked once more. To her surprise, Mr. Spindle was no longer on the porch and the leaves had returned to the tree and were green again as if nothing had ever happened.

      Bella isn’t going to believe this! Miss Jennings muttered to herself. She climbed

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