THE WILD HUNT
Book One
The Wild Hunt Series
The Night Hunt
There is a place, where no one knows,
where time stands still, and what isn't is so,
where the beasts and the darkness run hand in hand,
over the hills, through the forests, and throughout the land,
they feast on the souls of those who have fled,
and their job isn't done until the last one is dead,
if you hear the low howling or the hounds at your feet,
run hard and run fast or you'll end up their meat,
beware of the lady who runs but doesn't growl,
she'll find you in dreams, and so starts the deadly prowl.
By Ashley Jeffery
Prologue
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Imaginary~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When I was a little girl, I had an imaginary friend. Her name was Jillie. She was my silent companion when I played dress up and pretended to sip tea. Every day Jillie walked silently beside me to the school bus. She was always there at the end of the day to listen to me whisper my secrets. Jillie was probably the best friend I had for most of my childhood. After my sixth birthday my father decided I was too old for imaginary friends. He told me my friend wasn’t real, and that no one could see her.
For two years my father punished me every time I played with my invisible friend. Through his punishments I learned my first lesson in defiance. I grew proud of the marks that lined my skin. Each one was a snub in my father’s direction. Sure they hurt, especially when he used the belt, but every welt was a helpful reminder of my father’s true face.
One day my mother begged me to forget about Jillie, and never mention her again. The funny thing was my mother looked at my imaginary friend. Not in some small way of pacifying me either. Her pale green eyes scanned across Jillie’s blood splattered dress and dirty knees, and smiled with understanding. Like she too once had an imaginary friend. I still see Jillie sometimes. A childhood ailment I never truly outgrew. But the little girl who was my imaginary friend, was never really imaginary, Jillie was……is…… a ghost.
YOU ARE READING
The Wild Hunt
FantasyI see ghosts....... Except my ghosts aren’t just floating see-through apparitions. They aren’t drifting clouds of mist, or glowing balls of light. My ghosts are the soundless, walking zombies of the dearly departed. They are the rotting corpses of t...
