Sam's Quest for the Crimson Crystal -- The Beginning

“Samantha Mae Costas! Come on, or we’re going to miss the plane!”

Sam knew that when her father used her complete name he meant business. She grabbed her well-worn Yankees ball cap off the bedpost and pulled it down tightly over her long red braids.

It was a dreary, gray day. During the night a blast of cold air rushed down from Canada and brought with it dark clouds and a drenching rain. The mist fogged Sam’s glasses, and after a couple of tries to wipe them off, she stuffed them in her coat pocket.

It was early morning and New York City was just beginning to stir, and the silence surprised Sam. She was used to cars honking, sirens wailing and garbage trucks banging as the workday got underway. She smelled her mother’s perfume, and then felt warm arms circle her waist.

“Are you ready to go, sweetie?” her mother asked.

No, she wasn’t ready. But Sam couldn’t tell her mother that so she politely said, “Yes.” The doorman blew his whistle for a taxi, and a moment later the family was on its way to the airport.

It was summer and Sam was condemned to spend her whole vacation with Grandpa Paul on Mile High Mountain. Boring, boring!