Living a sequestered life in Albion Falls, Sophia’s trusted friend, a fairy named Rosalba, provides a welcome source of comfort and support.
It is a lie. Rosalba is not what she appears to be.
Rosalba’s sinister intention to devour Sophia’s soul becomes the focus of her parents. Her family and the local villagers try to protect this young woman.
Unknown to Sophia destiny calls for her to become the Princess of the skin-walkers. A way of life shared secretly by all who surround her.
The announcement of Sophia’s plans to leave Albion Falls brings the crisis to a head, as Sophia must fight for her life against the evil witch who deceived all for many years.
CHAPTER ONE: WHY
Why would anyone in twenty-twelve want to write a memoir they could never publish? It would seem almost vain in comparison to Facebook, Twitter or any popular social network, also known as online diaries.
However, my life is not like most. If I’d known . . . I know, right? How many of us go through life wondering about those “what ifs,” or what would have happened if we had said or thought of a snappier comeback?
Regrets? Sure, we all have them. Some are made from honest mistakes, and others, such as the “what ifs”—there is no avoiding them. Such is life, my life.
Mom used to say, “Sophia, you can’t change the past, so stop looking back.”
I have often wondered who she was trying to kid?
I mean, even when I try not to think about the past, it still haunts me.
All I have to do is close my eyes and fall asleep. In little to no time, it is back. Of course, it is under a different name. Some people call them nightmares, and others call them bad dreams, but me, I call them reality.
Therefore, instead of writing a memoir filled with dates and quick points of boring ‘Dear Diary’ crap, I decided to share the whole story with you from the very beginning. It is something I wish my mother had done for me.
This story will explain be the reason for my death, well, if I die that is. There is a slim chance I will finish telling you this story before I—well, only one in three of our kind survive giving birth.
Maybe an online diary would have been a better way to share my story, but if I have learned anything in my little time on earth, it is that secrets are secrets for a reason.
So little ones, if you are reading, this and I am no longer around to read it to you, I want you to know that my nightmare was also my dream come true.
CHAPTER TWO: RAYMOND
“Hurry up, or we’ll be late,” my brother, Raymond, turned and demanded.
“I told you she’d hold us back,” Liam snapped, “and there’s no way in hell I’m gunna get grounded because of her.”
Liam is my brother’s best friend. Wherever Liam goes, my brother follows and drags me with them. Liam never liked me. I was nine, and he constantly reminded me that I was holding them back or in the way.
“Screw this. I’m outta here.” Liam glared at me, and through clenched teeth he growled, “We don’t get paid to babysit. She’s not worth getting in shit.”
With that, he turned and bolted out of sight.
I tried to speed up, but I could not. Raymond is three years older, and back then, he was nearly a foot taller. Raymond gave me a sympathetic smile. I knew what was coming next. My brother would try to cheer me up. He always tried to lighten the blow from Liam’s insults.
“Come on squirt, you don’t want Roger to use the belt again, do you?”
“No,” I admitted.
Roger was our stepfather. We didn’t have to call him dad, but mom constantly suggested we consider it. When she was not home, Roger punished us, but when she was home, he told her to deal with “her kids”. He thought his kids were perfect. They didn’t live with us. We saw them every other weekend, and they were afraid to move when he was around. Thoughts of my last, well, my only spanking began to run through my mind.
It was our first summer as a family. I played with my Barbies in the warm sunshine, out of the way and happy in my own little world. Whenever Raymond and Liam laughed, I looked up to see what was happening. They tossed a baseball back and forth while telling jokes. I did not get the jokes, but they enjoyed them.
As I was heading into the house to use the washroom, Liam shouted, “Catch!”
He whipped a baseball at my head. I ducked, just in time, and it broke the living room window.
Within seconds, the front door flew open. My stepfather stormed out and yelled at boys. Liam blamed me. Before I could defend myself, Roger grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me into the house. He slammed me across his lap with my pants down to my knees and gave me the spanking of my life. It was the third or fourth hit when I loss control of my bladder. I know it upset him because the next two strikes were louder and stung much worse than the previous hits.
Raymond ran into the living room shouting all sorts of swear words. I heard a smacking sound without feeling the belt, and a baseball fell to the ground, rolling on the floor below my face. Roger abruptly stood, dropping me to the ground, and began freaking out. He kept asking if my brother thought he was man enough to take him on.
I stood there in complete shock with my pants around my knees and watched in horror as Roger’s face contorted. Wrinkles began to form in the oddest of places. His face appeared to shorten while his cheekbones protruded around his nose. It looked as if his eyebrows were growing before my eyes.
My attention bounced from Roger to Raymond.
Terrified, I could not say a word.
Mom’s car pulled into our driveway. I felt my pants fall to my ankles, which I instinctively reached down and pulled up.
When I stood, Roger was completely calm. His face was back to normal, and you could not tell that he had been yelling. While putting his belt back on he ordered me to my room and warned Raymond that he would deal with him later.
Since then, my brother refuses to be at home when mom is out.
© 2011 – 2013