House of Marionne by J. Elle EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: J. Elle
- Language: English
- Genre: Dark Fantasy
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
I used to believe that magic was glittering, fanciful pretend.
Then I realized magic is real.
But it is dark and poisonous.
And the only way to hide from it
Is to not exist at all.
Quell are you listening?” Mom squeezes my hand as our car jerks
to a stop outside the French Market on North Peters.
“Yes, get my pay for the week, in and out.”
“That’s my girl. Hurry now. I’ll circle.” She brushes my loose curls from
my cheek with a cautious smile before I slip out of our ’99 Civic, a
junkyard find, its blue paint dry and peeling. Before this car, it was an old
yellow truck. And before that truck, it was the bus, everywhere. But Mom
didn’t like not having a way to get up and go—run—at a moment’s notice.
So she made sure to get really good at fixing up old finds.
Really good at hiding me.
Fourteen schools. Twelve years. Nine cities.
Every place is the same: a backdrop I blend into. Anytime Mom gets
suspicious someone might know about the poison running through my
veins, she stuffs our entire life into a tiny yellow, hard-shell suitcase. It’s
perplexing that my entire existence can be tucked into something so small
and shoved into the trunk of a car. At first, I’d stuff everything I could into
my bag. Now, I just grab my tennis shoes, a phone charger, and my lucky
key chain. The countless places we’ve moved and the blur of faces I’ll say
goodbye to are the white space between memories, ellipses strung between
unfinished sentences. I stopped asking where we’re going a long time ago.
Because running’s been a destination all on its own.
Humid air, thanks to the roaring Mississippi nearby, assaults me, sticking
to my clammy skin. The back end of our rusted hatchback blares red before
disappearing around a corner. With only two weeks of high school left, I’m
trying to work as much as I can to save up enough for the big plans Mom
and I have.
To finally move somewhere and stay.
If a caged bird sings of freedom, and a song can be a wordless utterance,
a wish, a burning desire, then I sing of salty air and sand between my toes.
Of a home that’s not a moving target. After graduation, our plan is to find
some small beach town—a real beach, not like the muddy water we’ve been
around these last six months in New Orleans—and blend in with the sand.
Only a couple more weeks.
I graft myself into the afternoon commotion of the congested Market, and
it’s like slipping into a worn pair of shoes. I disappear into the throng of
shoppers in the outdoor pavilion with my chin to my chest, hands tucked in
my pockets.
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