Screams of the Damned by Nikita Rogers EPUB & PDF

Screams of the Damned by Nikita Rogers EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online

  • Status: Available for Free Download
  • Author: Nikita Rogers
  • Language: English
  • Genre:Occult Horror
  • Format: PDF / EPUB
  • Size: 2 MB
  • Price: Free

There was a chill in the air that morning, the sign of autumn
beginning to fade and the promise of a bitter winter yet to come.
The year was 1588. The summer months had been long, filled with
cloudless skies and a sun so hot it’s ray’s bleached blades of grass and dried
up rivers. Not that it mattered much, however. The power of the Marion
Coven was holding strong, and with the collective plentiful magic at their
disposal, the family farm was always green, the crops were fertile, and
animals were producing regularly. With harvest now in full swing, Samuel
found himself yearning for the end of the reaping, when he could settle
down close to the fire for the rest of the year and await the spring. Until
then, his back would continue to ache, and the knots in his shoulders would
only worsen.

Lifting the axe in his hand up high behind his head, Samuel brought it
back down again with force into the log that was sitting on the stump before
him. It broke apart with a clunk and fell to the ground, leaving the tip of his
axe wedged in the wood below. He sighed, wiping the sweat that had
gathered on his brow before he grabbed the cut pieces of firewood and
threw them into the wheelbarrow with the others.

“Samuel!”
The voice came from the house. Shielding his eyes from the sun, he
turned to see his mother standing at the threshold, waving a cloth to get his
attention.

“Coming, Mother!” He called as he waved back.
After rolling his sleeves up again, he lifted the handles of the
wheelbarrow and rolled it over the grass to the dirt path, trying to avoid the
odd chicken that had gotten loose from their pen. When he got to her, he set
the barrow down by the door and smiled widely at his mother. She tilted her
head and reached for his shirt, dusting it down with her hand.
“You are positively filthy,” she said with a tut, then reached to pinch his
cheek, “but you are a very handsome boy nonetheless.”

“You have to say that. I am your son.” He smirked, taking her hand
from his cheek so he could lean in and give her a kiss as he felt his stomach
begin to tighten with the ache of hunger. “Is lunch ready?”
“On the table and waiting,” his mother said, stepping aside to let him
walk inside.

Their house was a simple one. It was a farmhouse, with clay walls and
large black wooden beams. It had a sizable living area with a stone fireplace
where they could hang their cooking pot and a large metal bathtub they
could fill when they needed to bathe. A few years of bountiful crops had
bestowed upon them a wealth they were not used to, and with that they had
been able to place real glass into the windows instead of the wooden
shutters they had before. In fairness, they could only afford two, since the
tax on glass was so high, but his mother had wanted them so they could

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