The Forgotten Goddess by Rebekah Sinclair EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Rebekah Sinclair
- Language: English
- Genre: Greek & Roman Myth & Legend
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
I wonder if dying feels like flying. I wonder if Icarus felt the difference
between flying to the sun and falling to the ocean. If grasping a ray of
sunlight felt the same as crashing into the brutal waves of the sea below.
Was it worth it? Was Icarus’ flight on wax-covered wings worth the short
moment of warmth? Or did he regret risking eternal freedom from
something so fleeting as a moment of wonder?
Running my fingers along the book, gold embossed words Winged
Grecians sit on the surface of the pale blue cover.
My mind travels to the
clear waters of the Mediterranean—such a vivid fantasy. I can almost smell
the salty wind rising off the sea, lifting the mythical beasts on their giant
wings into the sky. A gentle tendril of wind caresses my cheek with a wisp
of tenderness, interrupting the fantasy. My powers leak from the chasm
inside me. I slam the book shut as I slam my magic back within me,
snapping me out of my haze and bringing me back to the bookstore.
It’s been ten years since the car accident, but every anniversary I spend
my birthday thinking about death. Burning sulfur stinging my nostrils is a
memory etched into my nightmares, as is being expelled from the vehicle
and soaring through the air like Icarus crashing into the sea. But the twisted
humor of fate kept me alive with the guilt of knowing I am a killer. Fate is
so cruel.
When I’m stressed or stuck in the dark thoughts of my fatal car accident,
I run to my favorite bookstore: Once Upon a Spine. Tucked between tall
buildings in downtown Atlanta, the two-story brick building is my comfort
spot. Running away to the pages of a book became my coping mechanism.
Now it’s my obsession to learn where my powers come from.
My Aunt Demi raised me after I lost my parents and brother. She is
always teasing me about spending my time in libraries and bringing home
stacks of books for the weekend instead of hanging out at the mall. Living
simply, she sells her beeswax candles and fresh produce at the farmer’s
market; my memories are always of her bent over rows of crops and flowers
on her quaint farm while the Pennsylvania sunshine streams through the
canopy of trees, dappling the small, brown cabin where she raised me.
She was never one for marriage or kids.
Living alone in her cabin in the
Pennsylvania hills, she would look down her nose at children playing in the
parks, calling them little harpies. But when the call came in, she rushed to
the hospital and welcomed me to her home after the funeral.
Panic attacks became frequent after the accident. For the first few months
I lived with my aunt, they assigned a social worker to monitor me and
ordered me to see a therapist. I tried telling him about my powers, but he
brushed it off as survivor’s guilt and said I was looking for a way to blame
myself for my family’s death, which was ruled an accident.
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