Chiara Ann Vicary
The Run to Freedom
Wolves called to her in the middle of the night. 10am in the morning. 3pm in the afternoon. While she did the washing and whilst she cooked the dinner. They howled for her to join them day and night. Restless, wanting and unsure she went to bed each night wide awake until the sun rose in the morning along with their calls and another day would begin.
****WARNING*** This story could be a trigger for anyone who has survived a violence The rain lashed at the windows, coming in waves. Isolated and alone she sat shivering in the cold. Another tear fell down her cheek pulling her knees tighter to her chest. She wanted nothing more than to curl up into such a tight ball that she would disappear, or at the very least, allow the thin, worn blanket to cover her entire person. She dare not move for fear the cement surrounding her would instantly give her frostbite. Perhaps her feet were already ice and instead just shatter upon touching something solid. Any icy inhalation forced another violent shudder down her body. More tears came with each breath of pain.
His Safety Net
I stood there, the soft white silk gently kissing the curves of my body as the lace edge flowed softly. The simple straps waiting to slide down my arms. I stared into the depth of the oceans captured within his deep blue eyes. Knowing that from this moment on I would be safe. I would know love and I would feel it with every fibre of my being and know that whatever may come it will never be enough to destroy us. As long as I could hold onto that hope, that feeling, all I would have to do is look in his eyes.
The Lost Flowers of Alice Hart
Do you ever find occasionally a book just comes into your life and for no particular reason it seems to tell a story that resonates with you.