Sound Current Rider
From Chapter 3: A Fighter and Healer (Excerpt)
If you're interested in purchasing "Warriors of the Sound Current" at a discounted
price, please click on the publisher's link:

I'd love to hear your comments:        Contact Steve DeWitt
Return to Home Page         Return to Chapter Headings
  Seeing the boy no longer threatening her, the fierce little sprite of a girl rounded on the
other boys leering at the scene. “Back off! Go on! Go away! Leave this kid alone!” She
glared at each of them in turn, hands on her slender hips.
 It didn’t escape the group of boys how ludicrous the situation was, an eight year old girl
facing down a bunch of twelve- and thirteen-year old boys. They looked at each other and
laughed uneasily, casually taking a step back. Basically, they were good kids, not mean . .
. they just thought they were having some fun with little Nikki. Now it was over. Pretending
that the whole thing with these two little kids was beneath their dignity to even
acknowledge, they took themselves off, laughing louder and slapping each other on the
back as if they were having the greatest time.
 Michelle barely watched them skate away. She knelt down next to Nikki.
 “Lemme see your hands.”
 Reluctantly, the little boy let her take his hands and turn them, palm up. The balls of his
hands were badly scraped where he had braced them on the concrete pavement to break
his fall. Blood was beading up where the skin was broken. Michelle pulled out a cloth
handkerchief and gently dabbed at the blood. It was a beautiful embroidered white
handkerchief given to her by grandma.
 “Here. Put your hands together like this,” she commanded softly.
 She placed his hands on either side of the hanky and gently pressed them together,
holding the outside of his hands between her own. As she did this, a high-pitched,
whistling sound began to swell in her head – a keening almost beyond the range of
perception. Hearing this sound was virtually second nature to the girl, and she inwardly
acknowledged it as the presence of the Holy Spirit.
 Nikki had stopped crying a few moments after Michelle had appeared, but now for the
first time he looked at her directly. The brown eyes in his tear-streaked face grew big and
round. A marvelous warmth flooded from her hands into his and all the way up his arms. It
felt like his arms were being dipped into a warm, golden, tingling bath. He could hardly feel
the pain anymore.
 The dark-haired girl smiled at him, her even teeth white against the red of her lips. She
knew how he felt. In her dreams a man she called Osigo had taught her how to open her
heart to a special kind of love, a current of sound that flowed out like a warm, golden
stream. The Golden Heart, Osigo called it.
 Nikki was feeling this special love. It was caressing him, making him feel good, uplifting
his spirit. He found himself hoping she would never let go. It didn’t occur to him that
normally the last thing in life he wanted was to be held by a girl.
 “How about your knees?” Michelle asked. “Did you hurt them too?”
 Nikki nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
 The girl placed her hands on the not-quite torn pants over his knees, and the same thing
happened as before. Soothing warmth crept from his knees up his thighs and down to his
feet. The hurt was still there, but it suddenly  seemed muted. He felt stronger, happier, the
humiliation of being taunted by the older boys fading into a memory.