The PureLights of Ohm Totem Read Online Free PDF Page A

his ears with his hands.
    He fell off his chair and onto the floor as the loud screeching sound blasted his eardrums. He closed his eyes tightly as blackness entered his vision, with bolts of electric violet light shooting around. His mom rushed to his rescue, grabbing him, and then helping him to his feet.
    Coda opened his eyes. The screeching sound roared in his ears as his mom mouthed something he couldn't hear. Then he felt the large hands of his dad rubbing his back, doing his best to calm him down.
    The screech turned into a voice that screamed, “Don't fear! Tomorrow, your journey begins!” and it quickly faded away.
    Coda jumped up, yelling at his mom. “Did you hear that ?”
    "I didn't hear anything."
    "Hear what?" asked his dad.
    "The...well...um...I don't know. The noise, I guess," said Coda, rubbing his ears with annoyance and embarrassment. "It's the noise I heard this morning, but then it said, 'Don't fear’ and something, something about a journey, again."
    "Oh boy," said his dad. "I guess we'll need two appointments—one with the speech therapist and one at the ear doctor."
    Coda's mom gave his dad a scornful look.
    "No, I'm fine," protested Coda. He shook his head, trying to get the last of the ringing out of his ears as he walked upstairs, toward his room. He kept rubbing his ears, not wanting to hear that noise ever again.

Chapter 3
     
     
     
     
    Zoey followed a dirt path that she and her brother had dubbed Abernathy Trail—named after the creek that ran alongside it. She was on the edge of the Cornell Forest, just a block from their house. It was a place where she felt at home, even more than in the house she lived in. She always felt welcome here, and her favorite tree didn’t care how she spoke or mumbled.
    Walking close to the narrow flowing creek only a few feet away made it all that much better. The creek sent cool air to her body, making it easier to bear the summer heat.
    Zoey saw that the sun was at its highest peak, beaming shafts of light between the gaps of maple and oak leaves, mixed with pine branches. She heard the sounds of birds chirping and fluttering from branch to branch, bringing a sense of business amongst the trees.
    Zoey looked back down at her feet and kept walking, lost in thought. I talk just fine, she grumbled to herself now and then.
    As she came around a bend in the creek, she gasped in surprise. The forest ahead of her was completely unfamiliar. There were trees that she knew she’d never seen before, and the surroundings seemed pristine, much more than usual, yet the dirt path next to the creek continued onward. She wondered how long she’d been walking and why she’d never come this way before.
    She wiped away a tear, looking more carefully at the woods around her. She noticed a peculiar tree about ten yards away. It was strange looking. Its bark was twisted, spiraling up the trunk, and well-lit leaves that seemed different from all of the other leaves growing in the forest. The tree from my dream? She shook her head. That's silly. Then the feeling of her dream came back like a surge of rushing water. She couldn't help but think the dream was more real than it should have been.
    She looked more closely at the twisted tree. There, at its base, was a rather large knot sticking out. Her eyes widened in delight and she quickly forgot about her dream. What a perfect stool to sit on .
    She was about to run toward the tree but stopped, remembering her dilemma. How do I get my mom and dad to stop bugging me about the way I talk?
    Her head drooped, her shoulders sagged forward, and her eyes became teary again. It's impossible. They don't understand.
    She walked to the edge of the creek and stared at the moving water. She stood in a sad, self-pitying daze.
    An abrupt wind picked up, nearly pushing her into the creek. She shrieked in surprise, catching herself from toppling over by stepping into the creek with her right foot, soaking her shoe and sock in the process.