Her Soul for Revenge by Harley LaRoux EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Harley LaRoux
- Language: English
- Genre: Romantic Erotica
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
JUNIPER
Grandpa used to tell me never to answer if I heard my name called
from the woods. It didn’t matter if it sounded like my mother calling, or my
brother, or even my best friend. He drilled it into my head from the time I
was a little girl, barely old enough to toddle around the yard, let alone the
woods.
“If the woods call your name, don’t answer. Run.”
He never explained why. He didn’t need to. The rule stuck with me
into my teenage years. Every time I rode my bike down the winding road,
the trees whizzing by on either side, I’d listen to the boughs creaking and
the pine needles rustling. Sometimes, I’d imagine my name was called and
I’d peddle faster, my heart racing until I reached school and was safely
behind the iron fence surrounding the campus.
Dad claimed it was all bullshit. “Ain’t a thing in these woods you
can’t kill,” he said. “Don’t you forget that, Juniper. You just keep your wits
about you. Don’t go wandering around after dark.”
No matter who you were, if you lived in Abelaum, you held a strong
belief about the woods. About when you should go out, when you should
hike, when you should lock your doors. Everyone would tell it a little
differently, but the general belief was the same: the woods weren’t safe.
The threat, whatever it was, was never put into words.
There was a
general sense of unease about the pines; the kind of thing that made people
avoid certain trails and certain roads. Older folks made little charms out of
twigs, twine, and fish bones, and would hang them up outside their house or
around the edges of their yard. Grandpa kept them on his fence posts,
around the field where his horses grazed, right at the edge of the trees.
There still came a year when one of the mares went missing. He kept
them in the stable at night after that.
By the time I was fifteen years old, I realized the superstitious stories
were only good for scaring little kids. From the trailer park where we lived,
it was a four-mile bike ride to school if I took the road. But it was only a
mile and a half if I cut through the woods. I started taking the shortcut when
I was fourteen, peddling as fast as I could through the trees.
I wasn’t afraid of the woods. But something felt wrong about
lingering under the trees too long, as if the longer I stayed in their presence,
the more irritated they’d get to have me there. I rode through quickly and
didn’t linger. No point in pushing my luck.
Even with the shortcut to school, I was usually late, especially when
Mom was fighting with her boyfriend all night, and I couldn’t drown out the
yelling enough to sleep.
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