The Cosmic Travels of Rena Delgado

Who is RENA? Rena DelGado is a freelance graphic designer and recent college graduate who enjoys moonlit walks, the great outdoors and...moving objects with her mind. Uh yeah, that wasn’t a typo. Still a newbie in her gifts she has yet to embrace her full potential. Join Rena and her friend, Stryker Bowen on their quest to recapture a legacy lost and destroy the evil that holds it captive.

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1. Astral Dreams

Rena Delgado lifted her hand and hovered it above the kitchen counter.  A chalky  rust stained buckle rested below her freshly manicured nails. The buckle once belonged to her favorite leather belt, which now found its new home in a thirty-five gallon plastic trashcan in their garage.  She wiggled her fingers, loosening the knots that formed after several attempts of “nothing” and tried again.  She narrowed her stormy blue cat eyes into slits.

Concentrate.  You've done bigger tasks than this.

She rolled her neck and lifted her shoulders simultaneously to release the ache that settled deep in her muscles.  

One more time. You can do this.  

Of course, she could…or at least that is what she was led to believe.  She had done it before, she was sure of it and she would not budge until she finished the task.  She pulled every ounce of determination from every fiber in her being and every thought in her core.

Still nothing.  

“What’s the friggin’ deal?  Why can’t I do this?”  She slammed her fist on the black and grey speckled granite counter top. Rena slumped over the counter, pressing her elbows onto the counter top and rested her head between her hands.  She stared at the buckle, willing it to move but  it remained in it's spot. 

Closing her eyes, she massaged her temples, taking deep breaths to calm the quiet storm within her.  Rena paced the length of the kitchen island, softly chewing her bottom lip. 

This buckle is a feather…the buckle is a feather....it's a friggin' feather.  

This buckle…is getting on my ever-lasting nerves. 

She threaded her fingers through her hair, sweeping the bulk of her locks to her back.  It was time to go beyond and dig deeper into her emotions.  She did not stay home on a Friday night while her friends partied at Club Titan to see “nothing” happen. 

Each year since her twelfth birthday, her father would assign her a task.  At first, they were small, menial requests that barely caught her attention, save for the growing annoyance and time they garnered.  The first task, a poem he’d written when he was a boy, was given to her to memorize by her thirteenth birthday.  Task completed.  She knew that poem forwards and backwards and hated every word of it.  At first she hated it because she didn't understand what she was reciting, but as she learned her native language, she disliked it even more because she still didn't understand what it was for.

It wasn't until she was fourteen that her magic revealed its true self.  Her father gave her the task of moving a potted plant.  She moved it.  He told her that she did not move it correctly. 

She moved again. Still wrong.  An hour later, she had moved that miserable, green and yellow Golden Pothos, across every square inch of their living, kitchen areas, and even the downstairs bathroom, and still…it was wrong. 

Jabs of heat prickled her arms, back and cheeks, beads of sweat crowded the space of her temples, and no matter how much she mumbled, cursed, and moaned, her father would not yield.  Until… it moved—by itself. 

In retrospect, it crashed against the fall wall of the living room.  Rena’s eyes rounded like saucers when the plant slid from one wall to the other right before her eyes.  She had wanted it to move there.  In fact, she remembered shouting in her mind how much she wished that she could throw it against the wall.  Her wish came true.  

That had been her first real lesson in witchcraft.  Although at the time, she thought her wishes could come true.  She remembered watching her father step toward the pieces of the reddish-brown, olla bean pot-turned-planter.  He turned back to her and clapped his hands.  His piano-key smile cast a light that could have put the stars to shame.  Why was he happy?  She didn’t do anything. 

Or had she?

He explained that he had to show her, through emotion that she could do the task.  If he had tried to tell her, she would not have believed him.  He was right.

By her eighteenth birthday, she understood that her father had been training her to handle her “calling.”  She was a witch from a special coven called the Travelers.  Travelers had the ability to stretch their psychokinetic powers to include an arsenal of abilities, including that of time leaping, astral projection and creating psi-balls. 

By the time she had graduated high-school her studies encompassed martial arts, sword training, and spell casting.  Now that she had turned twenty-one, the assignments were more frequent and harder.  Still, she had mastered all of her powers, save three.  At the moment, she had to learn astral projection, which she felt she had mastered until her father added the additional task of moving the belt buckle while in astral form. 

She slid her fingers together; interlocking them, just enough to bend into a resounding knuckle crack.  Rolling her neck and then shaking her waist length chocolate mane against her pencil straight back, she lifted her arm again and focused every shred of every muscle and thought into her fingertips.

This time she found success—the buckle lifted a couple of inches from the counter and floated halfway across the kitchen before dropping to the tiled floor.  Her eyes widened as a yelp rushed through her clenched teeth. 

“Rena Ann Delgado, get that nasty looking…whatever it is, off my clean floor.” 

Startled, Rena turned on her heels and collided into Maria Reyes, her father’s fiancée.  They did an awkward dance as they moved around each other.  After getting what she wanted from the fridge, Maria closed it, and waited for Rena to do as she had asked.  Reluctantly Rena obliged.

 “Maria, when did you get here?”

“Just arrived. I’m supposed to meet your father here.  We’re going out tonight.”

“Ew, spare me the details,” Rena kneeled and snatched the buckle from the floor.

She didn’t care for the intrusion of her father’s fiancée’ but it was something she would now have to live with.  She could not imagine what spell the feisty Latina had put her father under that made him mention his engagement on the one day that should have been sacred from such bad news, Rena’s college graduation. 

Didn't matter that her pops decided to rain on her parade, as Rene could not celebrate the way she wanted.  Although she did hit up all the hot spots in Deep Ellum before landing on doorstep in the wee hours of the morning, sputtering while toppling over 4-inch heels and mini-skirt.  She remembered her father shrieking at the sight of her as she tripped into his arms. 

It was a bold move and totally out of character for her.  She was not a drinker –obviously—and it was a major accomplishment, a Bachelor's Degree in Graphic Design.  So her father would allow the transgression just that once. 

Dad was getting married.  It was official.  He was moving on.  He was no longer hoping that her mother would reappear and fall back into their lives.  She was gone and he was lonely.  Rena understood.  But that didn’t mean she had to like it.

Maria Reyes. 

Rena wondered what on Earth her father saw in the busty brunette beyond her physical assets that would move him to put a ring on her finger, give her his last name, and invite her into their home after only four months of dating.  Whatever it was, Rena planned to get to the bottom of it.  For now, she had work to do. 

She left the kitchen, marching upstairs and into bedroom.  She scanned her redecorated haven until her eyes landed on her physical body.  She looked peaceful resting.  Finally getting the zzz’s that she craved.  Her father would not ease up on the training. It was as if he was expecting something to happen and he wanted her prepared.  He was cryptic.  Never really coming forward about who they were or where they came from, outside of the fact they were witches and the last members of the the Travelers.  

She giggled.  At one time, she thought she was an alien, which promptly forced him to explain her Wicca heritage. Thank goodness!

Witches were bad weren’t they?  Other than Glenda the good witch in the Wizard of OZ, she didn’t know if there was such a thing as a good witch.  However, she did know that her mother was connected to her journey.  If learning the craft, brought her mother back home, she would master all of it.

Rene sat at the edge of her bed, closed her eyes, and then fell into her body.  Moments later, her physical self awoke.  She smiled.  She had learned to move an object while in astral form.  Surely, dad will be pleased. 

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