When the Stars Fell

A meteor shower. A slave story. A sequel that may never be.

Inspiration can come from anywhere when you consider yourself a writer. It can be a snippet of conversation or from other books that you read and as a lover of history I get inspired by the small stories that have been forgotten. You may write a full novel based on a newspaper clipping. If you saw Ryan Coogler’s SINNERS in theatres you know that a few true crime tales about mob bosses being robbed and a ship crash landing in the Boston harbor inspired his blockbuster vampire tale. I’m really no different from Ryan, except for a few minor details around gender, medium, how many zeroes are in our bank accounts, but I digress. I too, love history and there was a story that I read regarding a media shower in the 1830’s that scared slave owners so much they thought it was judgment day. There are accounts of slave master’s being so shaken by the event they gathered their slaves to tell them where they’d sold their relatives. It kind of proves they knew what they were doing was wrong.

Read more in “They thought it was judgment day”

This story stuck in my head and I wanted to use it in a book, and I got my chance. The only problem is that I was only able to sell Book 1 and 2 of my Tatterly series. This story was included in Book 3. That will happen as your writing career. You will write books that sit on the shelf and you will sketch out series that never get completed. It’s really no different than having your fave TV show get cancelled at the end of the season. So, tell me what you think about Book 3 in my Hoodoo Middle Grade fantasy.

The Fall of the House of Tatterly

Twelve-year-old Theo Tatterly's ability to see ghosts is a useful skill in a house full of dead relatives, but it makes him a loner at school and everywhere else, where ghosts eternally pester him for help. For Theo, life is easier on the periphery. When his first failed exorcism portends an end to the Tatterly line, Theo must bring together his entire family--living and dead--to save the home they've lived in for generations . . . and maybe the world.

Book 2: The Rise of Issa Igwe

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Book 3: SkyMaster’s Revenge

Rooftop

Sweat rolled down Theo’s neck and soaked into the tank top under his Robert Smalls Middle School basketball jersey. His Aunt Sabrina custom made it so the white lettering would rest on a white top. White on white, Theo’s signature look. You had to get up close to see the school’s mascot, a brawny stevedore. As mascot’s go, it was pretty unique, but given the name of the school it fit. Surely, no one else could claim their school namesake stole a Confederate ship and sailed a bunch of people through enemy water to freedom during the Civil War.

“I’m on top of the world!” Theo shouted and it echoed in the drafty stairwell.

“Nah,” his best friend Romare huffed, a little out of breath,”...just the top of the stairs.”

They’d been spending a lot of time together lately, what with practice during the week and epic game nights at Romare’s house. Both of his parents were huge basketball fans and both had equally huge families. Theo didn’t know it was possible to have so many cousins.

“You not hype enough for me. Six straight losses and finally we get a win,” Theo replied as he adjusted his snow white fitted cap with his one free hand. The sun filtering in from the floor to ceiling windows was getting in his eyes. It helped some but the cap did precious little to keep the heat at bay.

“We only won cause their star player got chickenpox,” Romare complained.

“That’s what happens when your Mama is antivax. A win is a win.”

Mother Mourning’s Tea House, half psychic reading salon and half school for the supernaturally inclined, boasted one of the most intricate glass and wrought iron towers in the Night Market. It was perfect for stargazing at night, but brutally hot during the day. Even in November the temperature was still hitting 80 degrees on some days, days like today.

The Night Market, name notwithstanding, was an all hours marsh hidden oasis, a place where bika, another name for the magically gifted people Theo descended from, could congregate, celebrate, learn and reside. It was hidden from human eyes and provided just the cover one needed to learn how to map stars and divine the secrets of the universe, if you’re into that sort of thing.

“Hey, how you keep your dunks so white? You the only guy I know who wears white sneakers everyday and they never smudge. It’s a charm ain’t it?” Romare asked through huffs as he lifted the other side of the wooden box he and Theo were both hauling to the top of the tea house for Mr. Charlie’s. He had cemented himself as Theo’s best friend since the Hag incident, and it didn’t hurt they got to see each other at school and on Saturdays. It was Theo’s Aunt Sabrina’s idea that they both begin specialized classes in divination with Mr. Charlie. Neither of them knew the class came with manual labor requirements.

Theo took in a deep breath and paused as he kicked the wooden door behind him open with his foot. A weak breeze cooled him for a second as they duck walked the wooden chest they’d been charged with into the small room.

“No charm, just a toothbrush, vinegar and baking soda. Every night,” Theo replied to Romare’s question.

“Every night?!” Romare nearly shouted and dropped chest on the floor with a loud thump.

“Careful, boy! The contents of that trunk are worth more than your life,” Mr. Charlie chided as he rushed up the stairs.

“My life? What’s in it Mr. Charlie?” Romare asked.

“Yeah, Mr. Charlie, I’ve never seen you this excited. And that includes that vision you said you had about the Powerball last week,” Theo added.

Mr. Charlie smiled widely, his thin mustache almost disappearing between his flat nose and upper lip.

“I am on the path of discovery, my dear young charges,” Mr. Charlie said as he slid his hand lovingly across the top of the chest. It was a narrow box, nailed shut like a small coffin. The wood was old and untreated and stamped with labels in languages from all over the world.

“This is the culmination of a lifetime of research and study, toil and disappointment. It is the holy grail. It is the arc of the covenant and the rarest of pokemon from one of your little games all rolled into one,” Mr. Charlie said as he picked up a crowbar from the corner of the room and shoved it under the lip of the lid. “Now as soon as I pull this open, you spit on the ground,” he said.

“Why?” both boys asked in unison, but in varying octaves spurred by surprise.

“It’s tradition, and tradition is duty. Besides, if its a creatively constructed spell box spitting out will give us one more precious moment before we’re sucked inside. I was stuck in one once. An hour felt like a month,” Mr. Charlie said. A few kicks with his sandaled foot and the box cracked open with a cough. Both boys dutifully spit.

The room filled with a plume of dust that stung Theo’s eyes. He waved the air in front of him and peered inside fully hoping to see a chest of gold or an oversized genie bottle.

“A telescope?” Theo whispered.

“Aww man, Mr. Charlie. You had us going there,” Romare whined.

“Not just A telescope, boys. The telescope. Did I ever tell you the tale of the SkyMaster and the Day the Stars Fell? Don’t answer that. Of course, I haven’t. I haven’t repeated the story in years, not since I began to track down the scope in various haunts and hollows of bika worldwide. I didn’t want to invite any bad luck. Couldn’t risk any haints overhearing and thwarting my plans. Ghosts do love to gossip.”

Theo nodded in agreement. He’d spent half an hour listening to Great Aunt Trudy-Anne, an ancestor of his that liked to haunt his home on Bay Street, gossip about the recently deceased and their inability to adhere to traditional haunting hours.

Mr. Charlie dug into the box, gingerly pulling out each piece from the nest of spanish moss, paper and what looked like strips of cloth. The scope was old with brass and gold accents. There were three tripod legs and eye pieces, gears and lenses, clamps and knobs, and instead of one scope there were five in varying lengths. Mr. Charlie tore off his scarf and laid it on the ground to cushion the glass pieces. They glinted in the light and cast iridescent shadows onto the tower beams.

“The SkyMaster was, no is the astrologer’s astrologer. He wrote textbooks and burned the texts that revealed the secrets the rest of us were too stupid to understand. He is a giant among men, a god among the bika,” Mr. Charlie whispered as he sat among the disassembled machine.

“So he’s still alive?” Theo asked. “I’ve never heard of him.”

“His death was never witnessed so there are rumors. He disappeared over a century ago, well after he shifted time. November 13, 1833. That was the day. If you read the human newspapers of the time they tell of a strange celestial event where thousands of meteors fell to the Earth from Richmond in Virginia to Tallahassee in Florida. People thought the world was ending or the rapture was upon them, but it was neither. It was the SkyMaster.

He shifted our reality, moved time and altered the course of our history. At the very least my history. My great grandfather was enslaved on a tobacco plantation in Virginia at the time. He said that as soon as the stars began to fall all of the people in the cabins came out into the night and the Master and his family nearly tumbled out of the big house with fear. They thought it was Judgement Day and started telling all of the slaves where they had sold their mothers and brothers and wives the previous winter. People like to say that it was a different time and the enslavers didn’t know that what they were doing was wrong, but they knew. They were afraid they were going to burn for their sins and they wanted to get absolution before the angels called them into account.

My great grandfather learned that his wife, Maisie had been sold to a man down in Buford. The next day he ran and they didn’t look for him. Only a fool would run away from a plantation a handbreadth from Philadelphia and go further south, but my great grandfather did it and I wouldn’t be here if he didn’t.”

“You said he altered time. What did he change?” Romare asked.

“No one knows. Some say he stopped a world killing asteroid. Others say he delayed the Civil War by thirty more years with his antics. Either way the event shook the bika world and made him so famous biko believed he could raise the dead, see one hundred years into the future or absolve sins. He went into hiding not too long after and was never heard from again until replicas of his telescope began appearing in bazaars and second hand shops across the diaspora. The best of them give a glimpse into the next dimension. The worst kill you on the spot.”

Romare and Theo backed up from the sweetly oiled wooden scopes.

“And which one is this?” Theo asked.

“I can’t be sure. It’s said that there are only two replicas of his famous star scope in existence. One is being held at the University of Magical Studies in Medina. The other is still unaccounted for.”

“You’re not going to use it are you, Mr. Charlie,” Theo asked and the old man shook his head, silent no’s on his tongue, but longing in his eyes.

“That would be..uh…irresponsible. I am nothing if not responsible. Fastidious even. This is just for research purposes. I am a Master astronomer am I not?”

“I guess,” Romare said and thrust his chin at Theo. He’s gonna do it, he mouthed.

Theo mouthed back, I know.

Mr. Charlie held up a quarter sized lens into one of the streaming sunrays. Theo didn’t see anything remarkable about the glass. It didn’t even seem to magnify from what he could see, but when he looked into the sky from his spot in the tower he could have sworn the clouds stopped moving.

“Tell your Mom, oh, Aunt, umm..yeah. Tell her I said hey,” Romare said as Theo opened the car door. Theo rolled his eyes. It was an easy mistake. Theo could smell the brine from the sidewalk. He practically ran from the car to kick his shoes off on the porch. When he skidded into the kitchen his Aunt Sabrina already had a bowl ready for him.

“Boiled Peanut time!” they both shouted in unison.

Now it is true that you can get boiled peanuts in a can anytime of the year, but Theo didn’t trust that. You can also get them at a gas station, pretty much anywhere in Charleston county, but Theo didn’t trust that either. The only real way to eat the salty treat was when his Aunt Sabrina made them, soft, salty and slightly sweet, they were the perfect way to ruin your appetite for dinner.

“How was your lesson with Mr. Charlie today?” Theo’s youngest Aunt asked. She had her own bowl of peanuts in hand and even though she’d scrubbed her hands, he could still see the oil paint stains in her cuticles.

“More like a history lesson than anything useful,” he said with his mouth full. “He made Romy and I carry this dusty old scope up four flights of stairs by ourselves.”

“Well, you are strapping young boys. Don’t worry, it’ll help build muscle mass, besides Mr. Charlie will help you tap into your other senses you’ll need them in your work. We’re Tatterly’s. We help people, Theo. It’s our very purpose on this earth, the very reason we’re gifted in the first place. Strong mind, strong body too. It’s all connected.”

Theo rolled his eyes. Aunt Sabrina loved to talk about micronutrients and protein intake and maximum oxygenation now that she was on her own health kick. She’d recently shaved her head so that her hair wouldn’t slow her down when she did laps at the YMCA pool. Theo couldn’t decide if he liked it or not, but he couldn’t deny that the geometric henna designs she’d added right above her ear were very pretty.

“Wow, no bowl for me, Auntie,” Theo’s cousin Femi complained as he rolled into the kitchen.

“Dude, you stink!” Theo yelled. Femi was his cousin, but they’d lived together all their lives and they were more like brothers than anything else, which meant they fought like them.

“And that’s why I didn’t make you a bowl. You need a shower,” Aunt Sabrina chided. “Don’t even open my pot till you wash.”

“How did you know I wouldn’t come back fresh and clean? It’s not even that hot today,” Femi complained as Aunt Sabrina popped his hand with a wooden spoon as he reached for the pot.

“You know,” she replied. Then they both laughed at each other. Femi was the most powerful psychic the Tatterley’s had seen in a few generations and Aunt Sabrina was known for her prophetic visions. Both of their third eyes were perpetually open.

“Fine, but don’t eat them all,” Femi shouted as he jogged past Theo and upstairs to the shower.

Theo’s house was a family house in that there were three generations under one roof, including Aunt Sabrina who lived in the carriage house behind the main building and four if you count Great Aunt Trudy Anne. It was Theo, Femi, Femi’s mom, Aunt Ionie, Aunt Cedella, his mom, Roneisha and sometimes his cousin Issa, who had her own room because her parents traveled so often. Thinking of Issa, Theo fished his phone out of his pocket to see if she’d texted, but there was nothing. It figured. There’d been another possession. Issa was a conduit and sometimes wayward ghosts would inhabit her body against her will and cause trouble, not just for her, but for the family too. She was supposed to be learning how to repel them, but more often than not she welcomed them in. Is it fair to punish a kid for something they can’t help, even if they like it?

“So that’s all, just two guys hauling boxes all afternoon?” Aunt Sabrina asked, getting back on the subject of Mr. Charlie.

“Oh! No, he told us some story about a SkyLeader or something,” Theo replied as he walked over to the pot to scoop out another helping.

“You mean the SkyMaster?” Auntie Sabrina asked.

Theo nodded his head, his cheeks puffed out like a squirrel.

Aunt Sabrina stood up straight and looked him in the eye as she closed the space between them. “Was that telescope you opened a regular telescope?” she asked, suddenly very serious.

“No. I told you. It was the Sky Daddy scope or whatever,” Theo mumbled and Aunt Sabrina dropped her peanut bowl. It would have crashed if Aunt Ionie hadn’t rounded the corner and stopped it in mid-air with her telekinesis. She then directed it to the kitchen sink with her finger.

“Sabrina, what is it?” Aunt Ionie asked, purse still in hand from whatever errands she had to run that day.

Aunt Sabrina closed her eyes and held up both hands as she spoke. Theo knew then she was trying to process a vision. “I’d been dreaming of stars for a week now and I didn’t know why. Stars falling out of the sky and turning into flaming meteors burning up in the atmosphere. Until this morning.” She swallowed and opened her eyes, tears swimming in the corners.
“You stay away from that telescope. Don’t even go up to the tower. You are not to touch it,” she said to Theo sternly. Theo nodded. “Not ever!” she nearly shouted as she walked over to squeeze his arm.

Theo nodded again and swallowed hard. Aunt Sabrina was known to be very dramatic, even histrionic sometimes when it came to her visions, but it scared him a bit that she wouldn’t detail the specifics of her dream. What was so bad that she couldn’t say out loud? Theo knew just nodding along wouldn’t cut it so he fell on the old standard.

“Yes ma’am.”