Tell me one thing before I die, Young Blood. Just one," the Rowler asked curiously.
"What is it?" He growls through his razor-sharp teeth.
The Rowler starts to cough profusely. The color of its skin pales with every struggling breath. The Rowler ask...
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serenitywarren2019
Here is a small preview I made just for this book. I would appreciate your feedback! I hope you like it!
Are you ready?
*** LET'S BEGIN! ***
~ Prologue ~
Slowly, I approach my grandmother as she sharpens her knife against the whetstone. Her thin silver hair rests upon her shoulders, while her feeble frame is hunching over the oak counter. Grandmother Bea is silent. Too silent. Looking down at the floor, I chew my lip as she purposely ignores my presence.
It's not like her to act this way, even though she already knows the reason I am here. Grandmother Bea always seems to know what is going on. The villagers, the outcast, and the travelers, they all agree. When they are in dire need of her assistance, she is already patiently waiting for them to arrive and plead for her help. Rumor has it, the ones that don't ask, end up ill... or worse.
Fiddling with the end of my shredded cuff, I walk over and sit down on her cedar wood chair. As I wait for Grandmother Bea to finish sharpening her knife, the sound of each scrape causes my confidence to drift away. I close my eyes and listen to the haunting sound.
Kssss, kssss, ksssss...
Unable to wait any longer, I muster the courage to finally ask her the question that haunts me day and night. Clearing my throat, I open my mouth and ask, "Grandmother Bea,"
There is a pause, but for no more than a second before Grandmother looks up and gives me a knowing smile. My grandmother raises an eyebrow before heaving a sigh. She carefully sets down the sharpened knife and gives me her full attention. "What is it, Amelia?"
"Please, Grandmother, tell me who he really is. Why doesn't anyone ever speak his name?" I give her an imploring look. I am hoping she will tell me something- anything at all.
