In the Wesleyhousehold, Rob Wesley and his best mate Jim Gaines are sitting at thekitchen table.Part One. Saturday. 5 pm."No!" Please!" No, Jim, it can't be done!" Yes, it can Rob, you talked about it. I heard you." Oh hell! Me and my big mouth. Look, no, you know Mum would be furious!" Your mom's away in Scotland with Emily, they won't back for a week!Come on, It'll only be the once. I want to try it!" Look chum. No. You know this is wrong!"Dave came into the room. "Bloody hell. What's all the shouting about?"Rob turned to him. "Jim knows about mum's spell, he wants to use it." What? Who told him?" We did," said Rob."What? Bollocks!"Jim looked a bit sheepish. "Well, you did, sort of. I heard you bothdiscussing it. Two weeks ago. When I stayed over. I was on the couch andyou guys were gabbing. I suppose you thought I was asleep or something." Mom's going to be so annoyed." Dave rubbed his head while Bob justshook his."You were discussing about how your mom changed Emily. There was. A pair of large dead dark brown eyes floating above her own as she was summarily swayed out and over a burly arm. Her own foul smell unleashed from within the bag. Her own nose unable to block out its animal smell. Or for that matter, to distinguish it from that of the composite body odor of the man who held her aloft. It hovered between a stinging combination of exotic spices processed by unchecked pores and untended bowels. Her heart began to accelerate again in a mortal dread of what the next destination had in store. The small caravan of bundled cargo now brought forth hastily into the blinding light of day. She closed her untrained eyes tight to shield them from the unbearable harsh glare of midday sun. All the while detecting a cacophony of guttural sounding loudly in a chatter from every where about her. What she imagined in her mind's eye to be a bustling dock replete with every type of imaginable prattle characteristic of of Mohammedan. Their subservient chattels responding.
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