Read The House of Grey- Volume 1 Online
Authors: Collin Earl
“He’s never going to learn,” said Casey, shaking his head and chuckling slightly. “I don’t know many times I’m going to have to say this before we need an intervention: We need to find that boy a lady.”
“Poor Artorius,” said Monson, smiling. He was proud he didn’t laugh.
“
Anyway.” He returned his attention to Casey. “On with your story and make it snappy. I still need to check in with Coach Able.”
“OK, OK, I get it.” Casey settled back, looking thoughtful. His expression changed, becoming much more serious. “I think I came to the Asian conclusion when I was about ten.” His eyes screwed up in concentration. “The first and most obvious reason was all the references to life energies.”
“Life energies?”
Casey smiled. He looked like he was about to start laughing. ”Has anyone ever told you that you do that a lot?”
“Do what a lot?”
“That. Answer everything with a question!”
“I do not.”
“Sure you don’t.”
Before Monson could summon a retort, however, Casey continued. “We were talking about life energies.
Chi
,
ki
,
chakra
,
prana
: Different cultures have different names for them.”
“So,
chakra
or
chi
?” asked Monson. This time Casey cocked an eyebrow, copying Monson’s move. Monson grimaced. “I did it again, didn’t I?”
“Yeah.”
Monson scowled. “OK, tell me about
chakra
.”
The subject was long and drawn out, and Monson did not understand everything that Casey said, but thought he had managed to catch the main points.
“So, let me get this straight,” said Monson. “Through meditation and training you can focus the life energies in your body and use them to fight?”
“Yeah, well, it’s a bit more complicated than that, but you’re basically right.”
“No way.”
“Seriously, I use it all the time in training.”
“You’re so full of it.”
“I’ll prove it.” Casey stood up. “Come here.”
He guided Monson to the middle of another large wrestling mat a little farther away from the other students.
“Before we start, do you think you could help me warm up a bit?” asked Casey. "This takes some time, and it's dangerous if you use it without preparing yourself."
He paused.
“And…I have a little theory I would like to try out.”
“Sure,” said Monson, who was still skeptical. “What can I do to help?”
“You can defend yourself.”
“I’m sorry?”
Casey leaped at Monson, attacking with amazing speed. A low kick struck him mid-thigh, but to Monson’s amazement, his body reacted seemingly on its own, actually stepping into the blow and diminishing much of the force. Casey responded, and aiming for Monson’s face, he threw a monstrous cross-body blow a split second after his low kick. Monson deflected this with a smooth movement of the wrist, causing the punch to miss its mark and pass harmlessly to the side. The boys held the position, giving Monson time to marvel at his actions. Casey smiled.
“You really are interesting, Grey. All right. Let’s try this.”
He stepped back and assumed a stance, body leaning forward, fists up and in front of him. Monson realized this was a more aggressive fighting stance — fist and elbow-oriented.
He paused. Where did that come from? How the heck would he know what kind of stance this was?
Casey did not give him time to figure this out, but Monson’s instincts were correct. Quick powerful strikes with closed and open fists, augmented with various elbow strikes, poured down on him. Monson kept his hands close to his body, using small circular movements to block the attacks. He was quite successful and matched Casey blow for blow.
More than once, however, Casey’s attack patterns changed and Monson began to understand the flow of his style. It started with the base form, or starting position of his body; when he changed his starting form, he changed his entire attack style. In the course of their short bout, Monson counted five different forms, all of which were completely different in power, speed, and emphasis. It was as if Casey grew up learning not one fighting style but five. It was a bit scary.
I shouldn’t know this. The
words echoed in Monson’s mind.
Monson shouldn’t, but he did. He could see the forms. He could see the change and flow of the different styles. It was a dangerous martial art and Casey was very good at it. Monson wasn’t sure what was more disconcerting: that he knew so much about fighting or that his new friend was so good at it. There was no explanation for this. None.
Monson did surprisingly well, but took more than a few blows. His body seemed to ache as he went through the movements, as if his muscles were remembering something painful and persistent. Monson did connect with a shot or two. Casey’s form-based style was as wild as his fencing. He had openings, plenty of them, but Monson just could not find the mindset or spirit he needed to take advantage of them. Their battle drove on for the better part of five minutes, until a particularly vicious spinning back kick based on a flowing-type form centered around the legs barely missed Monson’s head. Monson put his hand up.
“I think you're warmed up, Casey,” he said panting. “What are you trying to do? You're gonna kill me!”
“Hardly,” said Casey. “I wasn’t exactly going easy on you, and you’re still standing. Are you sure you've never studied any kind of martial arts?”
“I could have been a French kitchen maid for all I know,” said Monson without thinking. He clapped his hand over his mouth. Casey just stared at him, confusion on his face. He smiled keenly at Monson.
“We don’t have to talk about it now, Grey, but I expect an explanation later.”
Monson let out a sigh of relief. “Sure. Sometime.”
Casey beamed at him, looking very pleased.
“Well, regardless, you’re awfully good for not knowing anything. I think you and Jason Bourne might be related.”
“Who’s Jason Bourne?” inquired Monson.
“What!? Who’s Jason Bourne!? Are you kidding me?“
“Wait. First,
chakra
. Focus.”
“Oh yeah,” said Casey, grinning. “I almost forgot. I think I'm ready.” He paused. “But we are so watching that movie.”
Casey led Monson to the middle of the mat and showed him a defensive stance. Apparently you could easily get hurt with this...exercise. Then stepping away, Casey started to shake the different parts of his body vigorously.
“I want to make sure that everything is loose,” he said in answer to Monson's inquiring stare. “Don’t want to pull a hammy.”
Monson decided not to comment.
Casey finally took a position not far from where Monson was standing. He settled into a stationary stance and closing his eyes, started to breathe deeply and slowly. He looked rather serene.
“This may hurt a little bit,” he whispered. He raised his right hand opened-fisted, rested it on the palm of his left, and placed them both firmly in front of his body. Monson watched, intrigued but still a little skeptical. Events continued in this fashion until…until something changed. It was hard to describe this change. It was slight and unobtrusive but it was almost palpable. Something about the atmosphere surrounding his friend was different. He could feel an energy emerging and becoming stronger. This change was not all that Monson had to worry about; it also felt like someone was watching them, and with a rather intense focus. The hairs on the back of Monson’s neck stood up as he spoke calming words aloud to himself. He chided himself. He was being paranoid. He needed to calm down.
“Hey, Casey,” said Monson, his attention splintered between his friend and his search for the source of his uneasiness. “
D
on’t
you
think
you should
…”
Monson never finished his sentence, as the sight he was now witnessing left him speechless.
<<<<>>>>
Thanks for reading!
See what happens to
Monson and the crew in
The House of Grey: Volume 2 right now
Tell your friends, your teachers, your family members,
and your hair stylist—this is one you won’t want to miss.
Oh
, and don't miss Collin Earl and Chris Snelgrove's other titles:
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Read this book right now for FREE
HARMONICS: Revelations
It’s been weeks since the attack on her school, but Samantha Montgomery’s nightmares make her relive those events almost every night.
Struggling to adjust to her new home in the underground facility deep within in the reaches of the Rocky Mountains, Sam wonders just how dark things can get before her will gives out. Faced with the realization that her once best friend is a man foreign to her, that she will never see her home again, and that her life is inexplicably caught up in a three-way war between a group of domestic terrorists, the world’s largest weapons manufacturer, and the elite of a foreign superpower, Sam stands alone to answer the questions that plague her.
Why her? When will she see her friends, her family…Adam again? What mysterious power does the silver box hold to make so many people kill for it?
Little does Sam know that there are explanations to all her questions just beyond her grasp- but only if she has the courage to look.