#Throwback Thursday ~ Our Review for Finding David by Stevie Turner #OccultHorror @StevieTurner6

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When Karen and Mick Curtis attend a demonstration of clairvoyance for the first time, Karen is singled out by the medium, Rae Cordelle. Rae has a message from Karen’s son David, who passed over to the spirit world many years before. The message shocks Karen and sends her on a journey of discovery, rocking her previously happy relationship with second husband Mick, David’s stepfather.

Amazon Review

Stevie Turner’s latest was a great escape read, and by the second page I had to find out  what this psychic was going to tell Karen, and then I became absorbed and wanted to just keep reading.

Karen and Mick’s happy life was shaken and stirred after a chance outing to a clairvoyant’s public show where Medium Rae focused her attention on Karen, offering her a message from beyond from Karen’s deceased son – gone missing years before. Rae offers Karen her card, inviting her to contact Rae to learn more if she chose. What mother of a missing child wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to connect with their missing/dead child?

What Rae reveals to Karen sets the tone for the journey to seek out what happened all those years ago when David just a boy then, completely vanished – never to return. The search to find David’s never been found body ensues, and as clues develop and possible suspects for David’s death appear, a great strain weighs between Karen and Mick’s marriage.

Turner always has rich characters who draw us into her stories. I also enjoyed how the story carried through with a tiny crumb given in each chapter, leaving me anxious to turn to the next chapter while still kept wondering – Who the heck killed David – until near the very end. I also enjoyed reading in this genre, which is not a usual one for me. If you enjoy a shorter book with all the meat of a story wrapped up nicely, you will no doubt, enjoy this book!

  

Our Thoughts

Hoping for a message from her son David, who disappeared years ago, Karen attends a Spiritual meeting with her husband, Mick and through the medium, Karen receives a message from her son.

This message shocks her and sends her on a journey of discovery, shaking the foundations of her marriage.

Her husband Mick is not a believer in these things and aggressively refuses to believe that David blames him for his death. This was a classic misunderstanding, for Mick is David’s stepfather.

Right from the beginning, I hoped the child would be found alive.

I found myself wondering what I would do in those circumstances. The message would have to be convincing, like something no one else would know, for there are many so-called mediums out there who prey on the vulnerable.

I don’t understand what drives people to these meetings, surely it must only bring more heartache?

It was particularly distressing to witness the destruction of Karen’s marriage, although the husband’s attitude didn’t help.

The author has done a brilliant job of creating a devastating story and believable characters, sometimes a little too realistic!

The medium in this story and the story itself, are remarkable and very believable, especially the effect this discovery had on the parents of the missing child.

Finding David isn’t very long, but it certainly packs a punch…

 

About the Author

Stevie Turner is a British author of romantic suspense, humour, paranormal stories, and women’s fiction family dramas. She is a cancer survivor, and still lives in the same picturesque Suffolk village that she and husband Sam moved to in 1991 with their two boys. Those two boys have now grown, and she and Sam have 5 lovely grandchildren.

One of her short stories, ‘Lifting the Black Dog’, was published in ‘1000 Words or Less Flash Fiction Collection’ (2016). Her screenplay ‘For the Sake of a Child’ won a silver award in the Spring 2017 Depth of Field International Film Festival, and her novel ‘A House Without Windows’ gained interest in 2017 from De Coder Media, an independent film production company based in New York. ‘Finding David’ reached the quarter-finals of the 2019 ScreenCraft Cinematic Short Story Competition. https://writers.coverfly.com/profile/writer-d3b3affc7-6104#accolades

To quote reader Roberta Baden-Powell, ‘I’m looking forward to reading your new book, and find your books the best so far. The style you write in has given me a new perspective and a renewed inspiration in reading once again.’

You can find out more about Stevie from her website http://www.stevie-turner-author.co.uk or by reading her WordPress blog http://www.steviet3.wordpress.com

Stevie can be contacted at the following email address: stevie@stevie-turner-author.co.uk

Don’t forget to sign up to Stevie’s mailing list for new publications, events and giveaways! http://eepurl.com/dvNklL

Saturday Serial ~ Out of Time ~ #MurderMystery ~ #Fiction

Kate Devereau wakes up in hospital in this exciting sequel to NINE LIVES,
unable to speak or move after the brutal attack by her ex-husband.
Her brain has shut down, refusing to acknowledge the misery of her dark and disturbing past.
A past that conceals a web of painful secrets.
Can she gradually piece her shattered life back together?
Or will she discover that her nightmare is far from over.

Chapter One

Detective Inspector David Snow looked down at the unconscious woman on the hospital bed in front of him. They had done a good job of cleaning her up.  She lay still, like a religious statue in a church, her pale skin the colour of finest marble, the gentle rise and fall of her chest the only sign that life still clung to her body.

So different to the other wrinkled and dirty body he had looked at earlier. An old tramp found dead in the hospital car park, bundled into a filthy army coat and wedged under a car. A simple case of neglect had taken on a more sinister tone when they found the tramps head cut off and shoved down the back of his trousers.

Snow wondered what the old tramp could have done to warrant such treatment. He was well known around the hospital and described as a harmless old soul. The tenuous link to the woman in front of him indicated she might not be safe and would need Snow’s protection.

They knew little about her, and he wondered again what kind of woman she was.  Now the blood and dirt had gone, she looked to be an attractive and middle-aged woman bordering on the ordinary, apart from her unruly hair, which seemed to crawl across the pillow like the roots of a willow.

Alone with the unconscious woman, Snow had an excellent opportunity to study her. In all the years since his wife’s death, he missed looking at a woman.  He liked to imagine what kind of person they were. If they were kind or cruel, bossy or timid, but for once, there were no clues on this woman’s face. A slight determination in the set of her jaw gave him pause for thought.

According to Michael Barratt, the man who brought her here, her name was Kate Devereau, and she was an artist. Snow wondered if she could be the murderer, due to the amount of blood present in the cottage where Michael Barratt had found her. As an estate agent, he had been arranging to have the cottage ready for Miss Devereau to rent and had no idea why she had found it necessary to be there.

It was all a little mysterious, compounded by the fact Michael Barratt looked as though he had been barbecued. His clothes were burned black in places, apart from his jacket, which was clean and several sizes too small and most likely didn’t belong to him. The back of his head and hands were raw and blistered, suggesting there were extensive burns to his body.

The estate agent kept asking after Kate, offering no explanation for his condition. He had no answer for what had happened to her either, except to say her health had not been good for a while. If it hadn’t been for all the blood, it would seem innocent enough.

So why didn’t Snow believe him?

Given the state of him, Michael Barratt was in no position to convince David Snow of anything. He was always suspicious of everyone involved in his cases, and Snow couldn’t help but suspect Michael Barratt. The man was hiding something, for, despite his obvious devotion to the unconscious woman, something didn’t feel right. He must know more than he said.

There had to be more to this case than these two people. The death of Miss Devereau’s brother Danny had opened this case several weeks ago. Perhaps someone had an axe to grind? Someone cruel and malicious, hell-bent on exacting revenge?

Snow walked over to the window, more for a change of scenery than to escape from the body of Kate Devereau. It was getting dark outside, and the lights in the car park were coming on, one by one. With visiting time approaching, more cars were arriving, and he prayed nothing else would happen. He was tired, but not looking forward to his retirement next year. His life seemed empty now, what would it be like then? He didn’t want to retire; he liked his job. It gave him a reason to get up every morning.

The idea that this woman may never regain consciousness was unsettling. He wanted this case solved and put away as soon as possible. The doctors could find no medical reason for the coma, or so they said. They had found sedatives in her system, but they should have worn off by now. Her heart was fine and no sign of a stroke. Either she didn’t want to wake up, or she was faking.

Maybe if he pinched or touched her, took her by surprise, would she open her eyes?  For whatever reason, and he couldn’t think of one, he couldn’t do it. He could hardly blame her for faking. Why weren’t there more people in her life?

He remembered one of his earlier cases, involving one Gillian Anderton and how she had completely fooled them into believing her story. If it hadn’t been for his sergeant, Jim Harris, she would still be free. Snow tended to suspect women a lot more these days, just in case.

Samantha Cameron managed Miss Devereau’s art but was only a business contact.  Judging by the barbecued boyfriend, someone thought well of Kate Devereau, but how did she feel about him? So many questions, which would never be answered if she didn’t wake up.

He looked back to the bed, hoping to see her open her eyes, but nothing had changed, she hadn’t moved at all.

What kind of woman are you, Kate Devereau?

I really enjoyed writing this second book in my DI Snow series and would love to hear your comments!

The Magic of Simple…#Fiction #FamilyHorror

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Image by Pixabay.com

Saw this picture this morning and it really fascinated me. I know it’s probably not real, there is some jiggery pokey going on, but as I get older I like the unreal, or at least, what seems to be, so I will keep on looking for new and amazing things…

Anyway, back to what I wanted to talk about today.
I have been thinking about one of Anita’s books, Simple …

It has long been one of my favourites and the picture at the top reminds me of the central character, a huge bear of a man called Simple. He loves to be in the forest and seems to be at home among all the towering trees, away from all the people who torment him because of his size, his slowness, and his stutter.

I thought I would print an excerpt to introduce him to you  properly…

       Gran stormed across the clearing, bending to pick up a stick from the ground without breaking her stride.  Simple, sitting against the wood pile, was in for another of her beatings.  I yelled for him to run, but he didn’t hear me.  Lost in one of his daydreams I guessed.

I watched in silence as Gran repeatedly swung the stick hard against the side of her son’s head.  There were no words to describe Simple’s pain, or the pain of watching.  He probably didn’t even know what it was for and I hated her for making me feel all the things he couldn’t say. He didn’t move or look her in the face, not until she let the stick drop from her bony fingers did he feel safe enough to close his eyes.  He slowly put his hands to his battered head, blood pushing its way through the gaps in his dirty fingers…

I know I edited this book so you could say I am a bit biased, but I don’t think so. I really love the story, even though it has savagely cruel elements, involving hatred and violence. But all of these elements are finely balanced with so much emotional determination and caring by Simple’s sister, Leanne that you get torn every which way as you read it.

This book is a roller coaster of a read but one that has been very hard to categorise. Mainstream publishers really couldn’t figure out what to do with it. They loved it but…

There always seems to be a but, doesn’t there?

I would love to hear if you could love it as much as I do…

Here is the latest review for Simple…

AEM
5.0 out of 5 starsLife’s Choices

Best Read of the Month! The Ferryman and the Sea Witch #FantasyAdventureFiction @Dwallacepeach

The merrow rule the sea. Slender creatures, fair of face, with silver scales and the graceful tails of angelfish. Caught in a Brid Clarion net, the daughter of the sea witch perishes in the sunlit air. Her fingers dangle above the swells.

The queen of the sea bares her sharp teeth and, in a fury of wind and waves, cleanses the brine of ships and men. But she spares a boy for his single act of kindness. Callum becomes the Ferryman, and until Brid Clarion pays its debt with royal blood, only his sails may cross the Deep.

Two warring nations, separated by the merrow’s trench, trade infant hostages in a commitment to peace. Now, the time has come for the heirs to return home. The Ferryman alone can undertake the exchange.

Yet, animosities are far from assuaged. While Brid Clarion’s islands bask in prosperity, Haf Killick, a floating city of derelict ships, rots and rusts and sinks into the reefs. Its ruler has other designs.

And the sea witch crafts dark bargains with all sides.

Callum is caught in the breach, with a long-held bargain of his own which, once discovered, will shatter this life.

Our Review

I had already fallen in love with this book, simply by the wonderful book cover and amazing trailer. I wasn’t prepared for the fast action packed prologue which had me gasping for breath. A truly remarkable beginning to what turned out to be an amazing read.

I loved the contrast between the different characters, the cruel machinations of most of the humans and the steadfast mindset of the beautiful but fascinatingly cruel Sea Witch.

Wonderfully written with the age old quality of legends, this story reminded me a little of Gulliver’s Travels and all their wars and bargains.

They had Gulliver to sort out their feuds, and in this book we have Callum, the Ferryman. And I loved every single word…

Biography

Best-selling author D. Wallace Peach started writing later in life after the kids were grown and a move left her with hours to fill. Years of working in business surrendered to a full-time indulgence in the imaginative world of books, and when she started writing, she was instantly hooked. Diana lives in a log cabin amongst the tall evergreens and emerald moss of Oregon’s rainforest with her husband, two dogs, two owls, a horde of bats, and the occasional family of coyotes.

For book descriptions, excerpts, maps, and behind the scenes info, please visit http://dwallacepeachbooks.com.

For her blog on all things writing, please visit http://mythsofthemirror.com.

Ready for an adventure?

The Ferryman and the Sea Witch Kindle Edition

Scarlet Ribbon for her Hair…

The Scarlet Ribbon has to be my all time favourite of all Anita’s books. Inspired by the song, I think she was truly inspired when she wrote it. (Don’t tell anyone, but there may be a sequel!)

Excerpt from The Scarlet Ribbon

It was all over at last. He would never hurt anyone ever again.  Annie’s mother had paid dearly, given away her own freedom. Murder was murder, no matter how necessary. But if it was up to me, I’d have given her a medal. I wondered when it had happened, and why we hadn’t heard anything. We must have fallen into a deep sleep, upstairs with Annie.

Alan carried Annie down the stairs, past her mother who was still leaning against the open front door. Her face was wiped clean of emotion, no tears as Annie was taken from her. She might as well have used the same knife on herself. She was dead inside, a lifeless husk with faded blue eyes. I couldn’t feel sorry for her though. It was too late for that.

I walked past her, following Annie, forgetting all about David until he called my name.

‘You can’t go with her, Mags. We’ve done our part, it’s over now.’

I kept on walking beside her, trying to touch her hand, her hair, whispering my goodbyes.

Alan sat Annie in the back seat of the car and we watched as it drove away. Half way down Stanley Road, Annie turned and looked through the rear window. Was she taking one last look at what had been her home, or was she saying goodbye to me?

I lowered my eyes, not wanting to see her disappear, that’s when I noticed the red ribbon lying in the road at my feet. For a moment I hardly dared touch it. What if it disintegrated or something? Slowly I plucked up the courage to pick it up, and holding it in my hand, I realised that it was the closest I had ever come to touching her, really touching her. Suddenly, tears were coursing down my face.

David put his arms around me, he didn’t speak and I was grateful for the silence. My tears became huge, gasping sobs as my heart emptied itself of all the pain, only to be replaced by another kind. As he led me away we heard sirens behind us. Not the kind we have today, but loud bells.

Somebody had called the police.

scarlet-ribbons-newI put Annie’s ribbon in my jeans pocket, wiped my face and said, ‘Where to now?’

‘You choose, Maggie.’

‘Home, let’s both go home. We’ve done what we came here for.’ I waited for a tremor, a sign. But nothing happened. We were still there.

‘This can’t be happening. You said I could go back if I helped. I have, now let me go!’

‘Who on earth are you talking to, Mags?’

‘The voice, the one that keeps me here. Haven’t you heard it?’

He shook his head.

‘Well, if it won’t let me out, I’ll find my own way back. I’m not staying here.’

I started walking double time. David had to run to catch up to me.

‘You don’t have to follow me. Find your own way out.’

‘There’s gratitude for you. Thanks a bunch, Mags.’ He emphasised the Mags. ‘All right, Miss Smarty-pants, how do you know which way is out? Or if there is more than one way out of here. We may be stuck with each other a while yet.’

I stopped walking and he bumped into me. Without turning around, I mumbled, ‘Sorry.’

‘Pardon?’ he said. ‘I didn’t catch that.’

I knew he had, but said it again anyway. Before I knew what was happening, he had turned me around and kissed me.

And I let it happen. It felt so good to have his arms around me, his lips soft and warm, so warm it was bringing parts of me alive that I had almost forgotten about.

As much as I wanted it, needed to be held and loved, I couldn’t let it happen. I loved Jack, but David felt so familiar as if those arms had held me before.

 

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Out of Time: excerpt #MysteryThriller

In this exciting sequel to NINE LIVES,

Kate Devereau wakes up in hospital unable to speak or move after the brutal attack by her ex-husband.

Her brain has shut down, refusing to acknowledge the misery of her dark and disturbing past.

A past that conceals a web of painful secrets.

Michael Barratt, Kate’s old flame, brought her to the hospital insisting that her ex-husband had tried to kill her

And from the state of him, had tried to kill him too.

With the help of DI David Snow, Kate will gradually piece her shattered life back together,

only to discover her nightmare is far from over.

Her first instinct is to run, but Snow convinces her to stay to help him put an end to the nightmare.

A nightmare that will get a lot worse before it gets better…

An excerpt from Out of Time

When he discovered Michael Barratt’s location, Snow didn’t have to ask what happened as the constable’s face said it all. A lovely shade of green was indicating the man was having trouble hanging on to his breakfast.

The churchyard resembled a scene from a horror movie with blood everywhere. The victim had been attacked from behind. A single knife wound to the neck, causing him to bleed out in a matter of seconds. What had possessed the man to leave the safety of the church? You had to wonder at his mental state, for he didn’t appear to have had a death wish.

Snow looked down at the man lying on the grass, an attractive man, despite the scar tissue and missing hair. He felt a little sorry for him, not for dying, but for spending too many years searching for Kate Devereau, only to fall flat at her unforgiving feet. He thought again about the other woman in his life and the child. Michael Barratt sure liked to complicate his life, but to what end? Still, the fight was over for him now.

The area behind the church had been checked as soon as the body was found, but there was no trace of Jack Holland. Snow wasn’t fooled, he had to be around there somewhere, as he wouldn’t rest until he had Kate Devereau in his clutches.

She almost knocked him down as he opened the door to the church. ‘Where is he?’ she said, trying to sidestep around him. He put his hands on her shoulders. ‘You cannot go out there, Kate. I will not allow it. You will have to say your goodbyes later.’

Her face contorted with either rage or upset, he couldn’t tell which. ‘He is dead, Kate. He went outside against our instructions and paid the ultimate price. At least it would have been quick …’

She started to walk backwards away from him, a stunned look on her face as the truth sank in. Snow caught the attention of a WPC and indicated Kate shouldn’t be left alone. He watched them walk away and wondered what would happen next. He tried to reach Jim Harris on his phone but there was no answer. He left a constable to guard the door and went to find him.

Snow marched around outside the church, looking for Jim Harris. He refused to consider losing anyone else. He was so angry, if he could get his hands on Jack Holland, they wouldn’t need to lock him up.

He found his sergeant checking the cars outside in the street. ‘You need to answer your phone, Jim before I have heart failure …’

‘Sorry, Boss, it must be on silent. Saw a man hanging around out here, so thought I’d check.’

‘Since when do you leave the scene of a crime, Jim, whatever the reason?’

A scream from inside the church drew their attention, and they hurried inside, expecting the worst. Kate and Sam were sitting on the floor in front of the altar, and Kate was the one who had screamed. Sam looked up as they approached and pointed towards the altar. ‘Present from Jack Holland …’

Snow had to look hard to recognise what had been left on the velvet altar cloth, and his heart sank when he realised what it was. Kate’s flowers were lying there, soaked with blood. The most obvious message from a killer, intended to strike fear into the soul of his next victim, and from the look on Kate Devereau’s face, it had worked…

Secrets… #FamilyDrama #FamilyLifeFiction

SOME SECRETS WILL KILL YOU…
and some are about someone who is already dead.
A mother must find the truth before the secrets destroy her family…

book promo post for Secrets

Excerpt from ‘Secrets’

She took a long hard look at herself in the mirror. Do any of us really know who we are, she asked herself. Are we the product of many lifetimes, like coloured plasticine all rolled together? All mixed up and confused, struggling with thoughts and feelings that might not belong to the here and now?

Maggie felt extremely sad but didn’t know why, there were tears in her eyes for no specific reason she could think of. It was a personal sadness, nothing to do with what Jack had done. Her life was pretty good, yet the feeling was there. She wondered if it could be an old sadness from another time that affected her, her mind not really thinking or remembering what it was.

When she thought about it, there had been many such days when she’d play a romantic record and the words would mean more than they should, perpetuating the sadness, the feeling of something lost. Did she have a secret, something bad that she had done, just waiting to be discovered?

She lay on the bed waiting for Jack and wondered if the strange world she’d been thrown into was more real than her mind would let her believe. It was hard to keep on denying it, what with Jack’s behaviour and poor Danny, tormented by this invisible force that seemed to have the power to inflict real pain and suffering. It was useless to even think about running from something you couldn’t see. She was remembering a passage from the Bible, when she heard Jack say good night to Danny. That the Good Lord sends no more than a body can bear…

She wondered if that was true, that maybe the worst was over…

Amazon Review

A strong and powerful story, very well told

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Dead of Winter, Journey 6 — The Fluting Fell #Teen & Young Adult Sword & Sorcery Fantasy @teagangeneviene

Emlyn’s story continues in Journey 6, The Fluting Fell. She gains tragic insight into Boabhan… horrifying things that she is too young to know. This event also shows an unexpected softer side to another character.
The travelers reach an abandoned estate, Wych Elm Manor, although it is not completely unoccupied. It yields answers as well as questions. Emlyn finds clues that lead them farther into their journey. She also meets the silvery-haired young man again.
The travelers have put some distance between themselves and the Brethren of Un’Naf, but do even worse dangers await them? Danger deepens when they take refuge in a mysterious structure.
Come, be a part of the Journeys of “Dead of Winter.”

Our Review

I always look forward to the stunning new cover images and reading the next fascinating journey of the Dead of Winter. This time we are warned of a very disturbing chapter in Emlyn’s life, and we follow Emlyn as she searches for the truth. Gradually, the mysteries in this story are being uncovered, beginning to explain why Emlyn has always been different and special in some disturbing ways.

Like why Emlyn has such vivid dreams. Are they trying to tell her about her past, or is it the future they forewarn about?  Nasty, vivid dreams that remind her of a terrible time in her past, something so awful she cannot remember it or believe it is to be true.

Emlyn learns the reason for this dream, of a disturbing secret, the memory of something she seems to share with a member of the Deae Matres.  It happened at the time of the Binding, the time when the nightwalkers were driven into the Realm of the Dead. 

This was a surprise for me too but was sensitively handled by the author.

Finally, Emlyn begins to understand the reason she is on this journey.

There are powerfully written events in this story, and such lovely moments too. I loved that Emlyn gets over her fear of horses, and that she finds some wonderful clothes to wear! There is another visit from the mysterious young silver haired man too, so many things to remember and experience, but all leading her further into danger.

All the while, the Realm of the Dead grows ever closer.

Throwback Thursday: Dreaming of Another Life…

 

Dreaming sounds idyllic, doesn’t it?

All too often, it can be anything but. Not exactly nightmarish, but many weird confusing images that can make you feel uncomfortable.

You find yourself worrying about them, what do they mean? Is there a message there somewhere? Why do we dream?

Doctors and psychologists have come up with some interesting theories over the years, but do they really know?

Common sense would seem to suggest that it is just the brain sorting through the days images when we are asleep, and most of the time it does sound likely. But what about all those dreams that seem to mean something? Or those that seem to warn us of danger?

Then there are those that appear to predict the future, which then come true. What are we supposed to think about those?

Personally, I don’t dream much, not that I can remember anyway. The odd romantic fantasy about whomever I fancy at the time, but these are getting rarer. (unfortunately!)

Sarah Curtis, the lead character in Not My Life, is being driven slowly insane by upsetting and confusing dreams, where she seems to be someone else entirely. Someone very real and in a lot of trouble.

This excerpt picks up the story when Sarah has wandered into the woods and gets lost…

I didn’t know where to go, so I let fate lead me off towards the woods. I walked for a while, trying not to think of anything. I told myself I should be feeling the beauty of the place.
The trees in their splendid autumn colours, leaves falling here and there making little drifts under the trees. I had heard somewhere that to catch a falling leaf was supposed to bring good luck. I tried and it was impossible. They seemed to fall gently towards you, and then at the last minute, darted away on a capricious breeze.

Trying to catch one frustrated the hell out of me. I gave up and sat for a while on a dry log, eating some chocolate I found in my pocket. Then I realised I had no idea of where I was and it was getting dark. I should have brought a loaf of bread with me to leave a trail, like Hansel and Gretel.
I didn’t feel too afraid; they would find me sooner or later. And later might be better. I walked on between ever-thicker undergrowth, hoping it was the way out. That a path, any path, would appear soon.

I found myself in a clearing with a pool, large rocks and slow running water. My throat was dry enough for me to scoop up a handful and it was surprisingly good. Deciding I was definitely lost and too tired to walk any further, I gathered up as many fallen leaves as I could to lie down in, and buried myself for the night.

The temperature dropped considerably and my bed of leaves gave little warmth. I slept fitfully, dreaming of who I really was. A girl called Kelly. And Tommy, my four year old brother, who once again had been sent to the coal cellar as punishment for wetting his bed. It wasn’t his fault. Father had made him drink far too much water; he must have known he would wet the bed. And mother, she did nothing to stop his cruel games.
There had been times in the past when she did, only to be cruelly beaten herself, without saving Tommy or myself from whatever punishment he saw fit. I knew the house I was in, these people, my parents as well as my own skin. Yet there was another place with gentle people I could sense, but somehow couldn’t reach.

Soft cold rain washed the dream away and I awoke, alone on a bed of wet leaves. Lost, waiting to be found. Too tired to move. Too dark to try to find my way out. Morning couldn’t be too far away; I would try again then…

We would love some feedback for this book, and free review copies are available…