Kaydence Snow's Blog
December 2, 2021
Read the first chapter of Reverie and Redemption!
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Reverie and Redemption
Chapter One
The sun streamed through the tree branches high above, and the gentle breeze carried the sounds of birdsong. The forest felt welcoming, wonderous.
Filled with joy, I smiled up at the sky and held my arms out. A bird landed on my left wrist—a colorful little thing singing a trilling song—and I laughed. Another joined it moments later, and then more and more until I had birds covering both arms and shoulders like a scene from a Disney movie. These birds were my friends, the closest ones even snuggling against my neck.
Then, one by one, they started to take off, flying playfully around me, their wings carrying them higher and higher. I wanted to go with them and be free, but . . .
I frowned at my arms. The birds had pooped all over me, and now my arms were too heavy to flap. I couldn’t fly. I stayed stuck on the ground while all my bird friends disappeared into the trees, taking their sweet songs with them.
The forest fell silent; the trees suddenly seemed denser, blocking out the sunshine. The only sound was the slow, almost too-quiet-to-hear ticking of a clock.
It started to snow. Within moments, it had piled over my feet, and when I finished cleaning the bird shit off my arms and tried to take off again, the snow wouldn’t let me. Almost as if it was trying to hold me captive.
The previously vibrant, cheery landscape had turned gray and white, and the sole noise—that ticking—kept getting louder.
The snow had risen up to my knees.
Why was it snowing? Wasn’t it summer? And where was that ticking coming from?
Nothing made any sense. I couldn’t move. I’d be trapped in this spot, alone forever, unable to get away . . .
And then I felt someone, or something, watching me. I tried to turn, but the snow had buried me up to my hips now, and I couldn’t see behind me.
And then . . .
And . . .
. . . then . . .
“Wake up.” The whispered words were both a demand and an invitation, a caress on my cheek that started to drag me out of my bizarre dream. The voice was distinctly male, with an edge of something like worry riding it.
I groaned and screwed my eyes up against the bright morning light.
As far as dreams went, that wasn’t the weirdest one I’d ever had—not by a long shot. Maybe the snow was just wishful thinking, because sweat from the summer heat had already plastered my sleep shirt to my skin. I moved to peel the shirt off, and something poked me in the hip.
My eyes flew open. I wasn’t even in my house, let alone in my bed.
I was in the fucking woods, being poked in the hip by a stick while the morning sun beamed down on me as if I were a plate under a heat lamp, waiting for the waitress.
I dragged a hand down my face, equally exasperated and unnerved.
This wasn’t the first time I’d woken up in a place I hadn’t gone to sleep. What worried me was what often came after.
Something tickled my shin, and I screamed, jolting to my feet and smacking at my legs. I jumped around on the spot, brushed my T-shirt down, shook out my hair, and cursed nature in a weird little anxiety dance. Once I’d assured myself nothing was crawling on me, I turned slowly on the spot to take in my surroundings.
All I could see in any direction were trees, ferns, patches of grass, the occasional bird. There was no sound of cars passing on a nearby road, no hiking track obvious in the dense underbrush, no sign of civilization at all.
Fuck.
I could literally be anywhere. My house had to be at least within a few hours’ walk, but Gritton was nestled in a valley, surrounded by forest, accessible only by picturesque winding roads. I could’ve gone in any direction and ended up in a spot that looked just like this.
At least I still had my socks on. They were pooled around my ankles and filthy, but they’d provide some protection for my feet. Until I ran into a hungry bear. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about my feet or anything else, ever again.
Funny that I focused on my socks in that moment, but better to count my blessings than fixate on how I’d probably die in these woods.
No one would even care. I doubted anyone in Gritton would even notice for a week or two, regardless of the fact that I was born there and knew most of the locals by name.
But my plant babies would wither and die.
Do it for the plants. I refused to die without even trying to get home.
I could simply pick a direction at random and hope for the best. But what if I just ended up deeper in the woods and starved to death?
Fucking fuck.
Paralyzed with indecision, I just stood there, looking around with my hands propped on my hips. I sighed and blew a random piece of hair out of my face. At least my hair was short enough that it wouldn’t get all matted and caught on anything.
I needed to find a tree to climb so I could get some idea of which way to go, but there were no good trees around. All the ones I could see were giants of the woods, stretching hundreds of feet into the sky. None of the magnificent bastards had a branch within reach.
Guess I’d just have to choose a direction until I found a suitable tree.
“This way.”
I whipped my head to the left and frantically searched the area with wide eyes. I’d all but forgotten the firm, deep voice I’d heard in that trippy state between sleep and wakefulness. I was fully conscious now, and I’d definitely heard it—clearer, louder, even a bit less worried.
Shit. Now I was hearing things. Maybe I’d already been stung by something that was giving me auditory hallucinations.
“Screw it.” Figuring I had nothing to lose, I walked in that direction.
Really, Reverie? We’re blindly following creepy disembodied voices into the deep, dark woods?
Most likely I’d just imagined the directions, my panicked brain creating voices from the rustle of the branches. I mean, my situation couldn’t really get any worse, right?
I picked my way through the trees and bushes, careful to watch where I stepped. I walked for what felt like hours—but was realistically probably only half an hour—without spotting a single climbable tree.
Just as despair started to settle in, making me wonder if I should double back and try another direction, I saw it. One pine tree stood at least fifty feet tall, a dwarf compared to all the others around it, and it had a branch about waist high.
“Oh my god!” I rushed over to it, ignoring the pain in my feet. “You have no idea how good it is to see you, Mr. Pine Tree. I need to climb you. I hope you don’t mind, but it is a matter of life and death.”
Mine, and possibly someone else’s.
But I couldn’t think about that just yet.
I wasn’t exactly an athletic type, but I managed to pull myself onto the low branch and swing my legs over until I was sitting on it. My hands and thighs were already getting scratched up, and I hadn’t even climbed three feet off the ground. Doing my best to ignore the pain, I used the trunk to balance, wobbled into a standing position, and grabbed the next branch. This one would be harder than the first, even if I weren’t already wrecked and injured.
Making sure my death grip on the branch was solid, I made myself look up. Not up, up, into the sky. Just ahead, so my brain could see what was in front of me instead of worrying about plummeting to what was below.
“Holy shit.” I leaned forward. A path!
About a hundred feet away, a narrow track wound through the ferns and bushes and around the massive trees. It wasn’t remotely visible from the ground, but from just a little bit of a height . . .
“Thank you, Mr. Pine.” I kissed the branch, then immediately regretted it and spit out the mossy, earthy, gritty nature that had stuck itself to my mouth.
I scrambled down the tree and walked to the path. It was barely a goat track, but well worn. Without thinking about it too much, I turned left. Turning left had served me well the last time, so I just rolled with it.
Most hiking tracks looped around, went from one point to another, or connected to other tracks. I’d find my way back to a road eventually—hopefully sooner rather than later. By now, the late-summer sun had climbed high in the sky. My skin felt sunburned, my lips and mouth dry. I felt dehydrated and exhausted, but at least the packed dirt was easier on my feet.
After an hour or so, I rounded a bend and saw the end of the path. Rushing forward brought me to an intersection with a wider path, a wooden signpost standing nearby. I leaned against the post and released a sob of relief. Turning left had paid off.
The sign informed me I had reached Frank’s Track. Arrows pointed in various directions, indicating the distance to landmarks. I was in the national park near my hometown, and I knew these hiking tracks.
It took about another half hour to walk to the parking area. The public toilets were filthy, but the sinks had fresh cool water. I peed, then drank and drank until my stomach felt as though it might burst, and then I sat in the shade for a while.
There wasn’t a single car in the lot, crushing my hopes of begging some hikers for a lift into town. I considered resting longer, waiting to see if anyone showed up, but I knew that would just delay the inevitable. Now that I no longer had to worry if I’d make it through the day alive, I couldn’t stop worrying about what I’d find when I got back.
With a resigned sigh, I got to my feet and started walking. Again. Gritton was only about another hour walk, but the mammoth trees lining the curved road provided shade, and the asphalt almost felt soothing on my feet after the rough treatment of the forest floor. I didn’t pass a single car, the birds and an occasional rabbit my only companions on the walk.
Of course I’d gone and sleepwalked my ass to the remote woods on the opposite side of town from where I lived. I couldn’t have been sensible about it and sleepwalked into the remote woods closer to my house. No, I’d have to walk down Main Street in my Ghostbusters T-shirt and my bright blue underwear with the hole at the seam of the left butt-cheek. Not to mention my filthy legs and arms, the tattered socks. As if they didn’t think I was enough of a freak already.
I’d resigned myself to a life of loneliness, but that didn’t make it easy. The stares and cold shoulders were a bitch to handle on a good day, let alone a day like today.
When Mr. Wallis’s driveway came into view on the road ahead, I started building up my emotional armor. By the time I’d walked past his property, I was holding my head high, my shoulders back and my expression stoic. There was no avoiding the walk through town, but I’d be damned if I did it while cowering or embarrassed.
More houses appeared, the properties getting smaller closer to town. By the time I came across the first person, I had a bit of a swagger in my step, as if I were exactly where I wanted to be, doing exactly what I planned.
The boys at Ziggy’s Auto all stopped what they were doing, wiping their hands on rags as they stared at me. They never catcalled me or anything like that, but they never acknowledged my existence either.
“Boys.” I gave them a jovial nod.
“Wait!” Travis stepped around the open hood of a car. He was a few years older than me and married. “Are you . . . uh . . . want some water or whatever?” He seemed confused—as if unsure why he’d even spoken to me. But he didn’t hide the way he looked at my scratched-up legs, my dirty T-shirt, my disaster hair.
I slowed my pace in shock. He’d found a scrap of humanity and was actually showing me some kindness? I glanced up to the sky, sure it might collapse at any moment.
“Nah, I’m good.” I waved him off, noting the narrow-eyed looks the others were giving him, and continued on.
Main Street was busy with the lunchtime rush, and I got plenty more reactions. People stopped in their tracks to stare at me, did double takes, craned their necks through the windows of the charming cafés and antique shops. Two elderly women sitting on a park bench openly tutted at me with disapproval.
“Mrs. Jones. Mrs. Douglas. Lovely day we’re having.” I gave them a wide grin. They’d been good friends with my grandparents; they used to pinch my cheeks and bring me home baked treats. Now I was nothing more than that woman the whole town wished would just disappear.
I forced down a shudder at the thought that they nearly got their wish that morning. Instead I just smiled wider.
The more they stared and whispered and steered their children out of my path, the more pep I forced into my step. I was practically skipping, my grin maniacal, by the time I crossed the main square and the people and buildings started to thin out.
None of them had even asked if I was all right. Dirt and scratches covered my arms and legs. My lips were cracked and dry. I looked as if I’d just escaped a serial killer in the woods. I’d known these people my whole life, and not a single one cared what had happened to me.
I’d stopped expecting anything from them a long time ago, but it still hurt to be treated as less than human.
The local school was on the edge of town. I just had to get past there, and then it was nothing but trees all the way up the winding road to my house on the hill.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Vera—Travis’s wife—appeared from behind a tree, hissing at me like a striking snake. We’d gone to school together, had even been friends at one point. Now she was a teacher, and I was the town freak.
I kept my pace steady, not in the mood for any more friendly catchups with the locals. “I’m walking home. And what are you up to?”
“Can’t you keep your weirdness private? There are children in there.” She pointed to the school building behind her as another teacher marched toward us. Mrs. Upton had taught there since Vera and I were students.
I gasped and gave Vera a wide-eyed look. “You’re right! How could I forget? They are so tasty before the age of ten. Thanks for the reminder, Vera. I’ll come by for a snack later.”
They both looked horrified, but I’d walked too far ahead for them to say anything else. I still heard Mrs. Upton’s haughty comment though.
“Why is that girl still living in our town? No one wants her here.”
Vera replied, but I couldn’t make out what she said.
I’d asked myself the same question so many times over the years. Why did I stay? Everyone hated me here. I had no friends. I’d lost my whole family.
Why did I keep putting myself through this?
I’d tried to leave a few times—I’d even gotten as far as packing up half my stuff once—but I just couldn’t make myself go. Maybe because at the end of the day, it didn’t matter where I went, who I got to know. Everyone would leave me eventually. They’d either hate and fear me, the way my whole town did, or end up like my parents and my best friend and anyone else I ever cared about.
I pushed the thought out of my mind as I walked through the front gate of my property. Immediately, my shoulders loosened, and I could finally breathe. No one dared step foot past that gate, and that’s how I liked it.
That was the other reason I couldn’t bring myself to leave. This property, this house, was my sanctuary. I’d grown up here, and all my happiest memories had happened on this plot of land. It was the only thing that made me remember I was loved once. My parents were in every corner of this house, in the photos on the walls, in the furniture, in their bedroom that I hadn’t been able to bring myself to open for years.
It was their home. Now it belonged to me.
A few steps up the walkway and the lush garden hid me from the road. At the end of the winding gravel path, I stomped up the front stairs.
“Fucking fantastic,” I grumbled when I saw the front door wide open. “Couldn’t have closed the door behind you when you went sleepwalking into the damn woods, Reverie? You’re an asshole.”
I wasn’t really worried about anyone breaking in, but I did have a hosta plant in my sunroom that squirrels freaking obsessed over.
With a huff, I locked the door behind me and went to check on my plants. The polka-dot plant was drooping a bit, so I gave it a good watering, but otherwise my little indoor forest looked just fine.
“Pretty green babies,” I cooed to them. “Momma’s here to give you water and fertilizer and take care of you. I’d never leave you . . . intentionally.”
The plants in the farthest corner whispered something.
I gasped, turning around to face them. Of course, it wasn’t the plants—I loved my green babies, but I wasn’t so far gone that I thought they could actually speak back to me.
Someone was in my house.
Would this day never end?
I reached for the ice pick I kept lying around to aerate the soil in the potted plants and brandished it in front of me like a knife. I was a split second away from calling out, Who’s there? but I held it back, rolling my eyes. Do not get slasher-flick-bimbo-murdered, Reverie. You’re better than that.
“. . . is she . . .” The voice came again, from the same spot. Except I was staring right at it, and no one was there.
“. . . but if she is . . . don’t try . . .” That time it sounded like a different voice. It actually reminded me of the voice I’d heard in the woods. And it didn’t sound so much like whispering now that I was focused on it—more like someone speaking really far away.
I stood there for another few moments and contemplated searching the house, but then I dropped my weapon and dragged my ass into the bathroom. Either I’d lost my mind or the exhaustion and dehydration were giving me auditory hallucinations again. Either way, I needed a shower.
After a good hour in the bathroom—scrubbing away dirt, wincing every time soap got into one of my scrapes, sanitizing each injury I could reach, and moisturizing my whole body—I put on my comfiest shorts and T-shirt and headed into the kitchen. My stomach growled almost constantly, demanding bitch. Grabbing Chinese leftovers from the fridge, I carried the box over to the couch and started wolfing it down cold.
With my belly full and my body clean and safe, I couldn’t avoid thinking about it any longer. Who had fallen victim to the curse of just plain knowing me?
It started when I was eleven years old: every time I sleepwalked, I’d wake up to discover someone I loved had been taken from me. And once all my loved ones were gone, anyone I even remotely cared about ended up being next.
So as much as it hurt, I couldn’t blame the people of Gritton for staying away.
I hadn’t sleepwalked in nearly a year though. I’d kept my distance even from those outside my town. I was a straight-up bitch to almost everyone I met. I literally had no friends; I didn’t even have acquaintances. Who was there left to take?
My phone started ringing, the sound carrying through the empty house from my bedroom.
By the time I hobbled to my room, wincing from my sore muscles and scraped feet, the phone had stopped ringing. I pulled it off the charger to see half a dozen missed calls and a text message, all from the same person.
I called him back.
“Rev, hey!” Morris sounded rushed. He was my boss from the diner two towns over where I worked a few times per week. I didn’t really need the income—my ginseng and herbs brought in more than enough for me to live comfortably—but I craved at least a little normality. I liked going somewhere where no one knew me, no one glared at me, no one hated me.
“Hey, Mo, what’s up?” I gingerly lowered myself to the bed.
“Can you work tonight?” he asked.
The way I was feeling right now? No way in hell. I opened my mouth to say as much, but he kept speaking.
“Diana didn’t show up for her shift this morning. Laura covered it, but now she can’t do the dinner shift, so can you cover that?”
“Diana didn’t show up? That’s not like her.” I squeezed my eyes shut and braced myself.
“Yeah.” My manager sighed. “I got ahold of her husband about an hour ago. She’s in the hospital. Apparently, she just didn’t wake up this morning. They’re running tests.”
“Oh my god.” I felt sick to my stomach.
“I know. They have no idea what’s causing it.”
“Yeah, I’ll take the shift. It’s no problem.”
“Thanks, Rev.”
It was the least I could do—considering I was the reason Diana was in the hospital in the first place.
ℙ𝕣𝕖𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕠𝕟 𝔸𝕞𝕒𝕫𝕠𝕟: https://geni.us/reverie-redemption
Reverie and Redemption
Chapter One
The sun streamed through the tree branches high above, and the gentle breeze carried the sounds of birdsong. The forest felt welcoming, wonderous.
Filled with joy, I smiled up at the sky and held my arms out. A bird landed on my left wrist—a colorful little thing singing a trilling song—and I laughed. Another joined it moments later, and then more and more until I had birds covering both arms and shoulders like a scene from a Disney movie. These birds were my friends, the closest ones even snuggling against my neck.
Then, one by one, they started to take off, flying playfully around me, their wings carrying them higher and higher. I wanted to go with them and be free, but . . .
I frowned at my arms. The birds had pooped all over me, and now my arms were too heavy to flap. I couldn’t fly. I stayed stuck on the ground while all my bird friends disappeared into the trees, taking their sweet songs with them.
The forest fell silent; the trees suddenly seemed denser, blocking out the sunshine. The only sound was the slow, almost too-quiet-to-hear ticking of a clock.
It started to snow. Within moments, it had piled over my feet, and when I finished cleaning the bird shit off my arms and tried to take off again, the snow wouldn’t let me. Almost as if it was trying to hold me captive.
The previously vibrant, cheery landscape had turned gray and white, and the sole noise—that ticking—kept getting louder.
The snow had risen up to my knees.
Why was it snowing? Wasn’t it summer? And where was that ticking coming from?
Nothing made any sense. I couldn’t move. I’d be trapped in this spot, alone forever, unable to get away . . .
And then I felt someone, or something, watching me. I tried to turn, but the snow had buried me up to my hips now, and I couldn’t see behind me.
And then . . .
And . . .
. . . then . . .
“Wake up.” The whispered words were both a demand and an invitation, a caress on my cheek that started to drag me out of my bizarre dream. The voice was distinctly male, with an edge of something like worry riding it.
I groaned and screwed my eyes up against the bright morning light.
As far as dreams went, that wasn’t the weirdest one I’d ever had—not by a long shot. Maybe the snow was just wishful thinking, because sweat from the summer heat had already plastered my sleep shirt to my skin. I moved to peel the shirt off, and something poked me in the hip.
My eyes flew open. I wasn’t even in my house, let alone in my bed.
I was in the fucking woods, being poked in the hip by a stick while the morning sun beamed down on me as if I were a plate under a heat lamp, waiting for the waitress.
I dragged a hand down my face, equally exasperated and unnerved.
This wasn’t the first time I’d woken up in a place I hadn’t gone to sleep. What worried me was what often came after.
Something tickled my shin, and I screamed, jolting to my feet and smacking at my legs. I jumped around on the spot, brushed my T-shirt down, shook out my hair, and cursed nature in a weird little anxiety dance. Once I’d assured myself nothing was crawling on me, I turned slowly on the spot to take in my surroundings.
All I could see in any direction were trees, ferns, patches of grass, the occasional bird. There was no sound of cars passing on a nearby road, no hiking track obvious in the dense underbrush, no sign of civilization at all.
Fuck.
I could literally be anywhere. My house had to be at least within a few hours’ walk, but Gritton was nestled in a valley, surrounded by forest, accessible only by picturesque winding roads. I could’ve gone in any direction and ended up in a spot that looked just like this.
At least I still had my socks on. They were pooled around my ankles and filthy, but they’d provide some protection for my feet. Until I ran into a hungry bear. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about my feet or anything else, ever again.
Funny that I focused on my socks in that moment, but better to count my blessings than fixate on how I’d probably die in these woods.
No one would even care. I doubted anyone in Gritton would even notice for a week or two, regardless of the fact that I was born there and knew most of the locals by name.
But my plant babies would wither and die.
Do it for the plants. I refused to die without even trying to get home.
I could simply pick a direction at random and hope for the best. But what if I just ended up deeper in the woods and starved to death?
Fucking fuck.
Paralyzed with indecision, I just stood there, looking around with my hands propped on my hips. I sighed and blew a random piece of hair out of my face. At least my hair was short enough that it wouldn’t get all matted and caught on anything.
I needed to find a tree to climb so I could get some idea of which way to go, but there were no good trees around. All the ones I could see were giants of the woods, stretching hundreds of feet into the sky. None of the magnificent bastards had a branch within reach.
Guess I’d just have to choose a direction until I found a suitable tree.
“This way.”
I whipped my head to the left and frantically searched the area with wide eyes. I’d all but forgotten the firm, deep voice I’d heard in that trippy state between sleep and wakefulness. I was fully conscious now, and I’d definitely heard it—clearer, louder, even a bit less worried.
Shit. Now I was hearing things. Maybe I’d already been stung by something that was giving me auditory hallucinations.
“Screw it.” Figuring I had nothing to lose, I walked in that direction.
Really, Reverie? We’re blindly following creepy disembodied voices into the deep, dark woods?
Most likely I’d just imagined the directions, my panicked brain creating voices from the rustle of the branches. I mean, my situation couldn’t really get any worse, right?
I picked my way through the trees and bushes, careful to watch where I stepped. I walked for what felt like hours—but was realistically probably only half an hour—without spotting a single climbable tree.
Just as despair started to settle in, making me wonder if I should double back and try another direction, I saw it. One pine tree stood at least fifty feet tall, a dwarf compared to all the others around it, and it had a branch about waist high.
“Oh my god!” I rushed over to it, ignoring the pain in my feet. “You have no idea how good it is to see you, Mr. Pine Tree. I need to climb you. I hope you don’t mind, but it is a matter of life and death.”
Mine, and possibly someone else’s.
But I couldn’t think about that just yet.
I wasn’t exactly an athletic type, but I managed to pull myself onto the low branch and swing my legs over until I was sitting on it. My hands and thighs were already getting scratched up, and I hadn’t even climbed three feet off the ground. Doing my best to ignore the pain, I used the trunk to balance, wobbled into a standing position, and grabbed the next branch. This one would be harder than the first, even if I weren’t already wrecked and injured.
Making sure my death grip on the branch was solid, I made myself look up. Not up, up, into the sky. Just ahead, so my brain could see what was in front of me instead of worrying about plummeting to what was below.
“Holy shit.” I leaned forward. A path!
About a hundred feet away, a narrow track wound through the ferns and bushes and around the massive trees. It wasn’t remotely visible from the ground, but from just a little bit of a height . . .
“Thank you, Mr. Pine.” I kissed the branch, then immediately regretted it and spit out the mossy, earthy, gritty nature that had stuck itself to my mouth.
I scrambled down the tree and walked to the path. It was barely a goat track, but well worn. Without thinking about it too much, I turned left. Turning left had served me well the last time, so I just rolled with it.
Most hiking tracks looped around, went from one point to another, or connected to other tracks. I’d find my way back to a road eventually—hopefully sooner rather than later. By now, the late-summer sun had climbed high in the sky. My skin felt sunburned, my lips and mouth dry. I felt dehydrated and exhausted, but at least the packed dirt was easier on my feet.
After an hour or so, I rounded a bend and saw the end of the path. Rushing forward brought me to an intersection with a wider path, a wooden signpost standing nearby. I leaned against the post and released a sob of relief. Turning left had paid off.
The sign informed me I had reached Frank’s Track. Arrows pointed in various directions, indicating the distance to landmarks. I was in the national park near my hometown, and I knew these hiking tracks.
It took about another half hour to walk to the parking area. The public toilets were filthy, but the sinks had fresh cool water. I peed, then drank and drank until my stomach felt as though it might burst, and then I sat in the shade for a while.
There wasn’t a single car in the lot, crushing my hopes of begging some hikers for a lift into town. I considered resting longer, waiting to see if anyone showed up, but I knew that would just delay the inevitable. Now that I no longer had to worry if I’d make it through the day alive, I couldn’t stop worrying about what I’d find when I got back.
With a resigned sigh, I got to my feet and started walking. Again. Gritton was only about another hour walk, but the mammoth trees lining the curved road provided shade, and the asphalt almost felt soothing on my feet after the rough treatment of the forest floor. I didn’t pass a single car, the birds and an occasional rabbit my only companions on the walk.
Of course I’d gone and sleepwalked my ass to the remote woods on the opposite side of town from where I lived. I couldn’t have been sensible about it and sleepwalked into the remote woods closer to my house. No, I’d have to walk down Main Street in my Ghostbusters T-shirt and my bright blue underwear with the hole at the seam of the left butt-cheek. Not to mention my filthy legs and arms, the tattered socks. As if they didn’t think I was enough of a freak already.
I’d resigned myself to a life of loneliness, but that didn’t make it easy. The stares and cold shoulders were a bitch to handle on a good day, let alone a day like today.
When Mr. Wallis’s driveway came into view on the road ahead, I started building up my emotional armor. By the time I’d walked past his property, I was holding my head high, my shoulders back and my expression stoic. There was no avoiding the walk through town, but I’d be damned if I did it while cowering or embarrassed.
More houses appeared, the properties getting smaller closer to town. By the time I came across the first person, I had a bit of a swagger in my step, as if I were exactly where I wanted to be, doing exactly what I planned.
The boys at Ziggy’s Auto all stopped what they were doing, wiping their hands on rags as they stared at me. They never catcalled me or anything like that, but they never acknowledged my existence either.
“Boys.” I gave them a jovial nod.
“Wait!” Travis stepped around the open hood of a car. He was a few years older than me and married. “Are you . . . uh . . . want some water or whatever?” He seemed confused—as if unsure why he’d even spoken to me. But he didn’t hide the way he looked at my scratched-up legs, my dirty T-shirt, my disaster hair.
I slowed my pace in shock. He’d found a scrap of humanity and was actually showing me some kindness? I glanced up to the sky, sure it might collapse at any moment.
“Nah, I’m good.” I waved him off, noting the narrow-eyed looks the others were giving him, and continued on.
Main Street was busy with the lunchtime rush, and I got plenty more reactions. People stopped in their tracks to stare at me, did double takes, craned their necks through the windows of the charming cafés and antique shops. Two elderly women sitting on a park bench openly tutted at me with disapproval.
“Mrs. Jones. Mrs. Douglas. Lovely day we’re having.” I gave them a wide grin. They’d been good friends with my grandparents; they used to pinch my cheeks and bring me home baked treats. Now I was nothing more than that woman the whole town wished would just disappear.
I forced down a shudder at the thought that they nearly got their wish that morning. Instead I just smiled wider.
The more they stared and whispered and steered their children out of my path, the more pep I forced into my step. I was practically skipping, my grin maniacal, by the time I crossed the main square and the people and buildings started to thin out.
None of them had even asked if I was all right. Dirt and scratches covered my arms and legs. My lips were cracked and dry. I looked as if I’d just escaped a serial killer in the woods. I’d known these people my whole life, and not a single one cared what had happened to me.
I’d stopped expecting anything from them a long time ago, but it still hurt to be treated as less than human.
The local school was on the edge of town. I just had to get past there, and then it was nothing but trees all the way up the winding road to my house on the hill.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Vera—Travis’s wife—appeared from behind a tree, hissing at me like a striking snake. We’d gone to school together, had even been friends at one point. Now she was a teacher, and I was the town freak.
I kept my pace steady, not in the mood for any more friendly catchups with the locals. “I’m walking home. And what are you up to?”
“Can’t you keep your weirdness private? There are children in there.” She pointed to the school building behind her as another teacher marched toward us. Mrs. Upton had taught there since Vera and I were students.
I gasped and gave Vera a wide-eyed look. “You’re right! How could I forget? They are so tasty before the age of ten. Thanks for the reminder, Vera. I’ll come by for a snack later.”
They both looked horrified, but I’d walked too far ahead for them to say anything else. I still heard Mrs. Upton’s haughty comment though.
“Why is that girl still living in our town? No one wants her here.”
Vera replied, but I couldn’t make out what she said.
I’d asked myself the same question so many times over the years. Why did I stay? Everyone hated me here. I had no friends. I’d lost my whole family.
Why did I keep putting myself through this?
I’d tried to leave a few times—I’d even gotten as far as packing up half my stuff once—but I just couldn’t make myself go. Maybe because at the end of the day, it didn’t matter where I went, who I got to know. Everyone would leave me eventually. They’d either hate and fear me, the way my whole town did, or end up like my parents and my best friend and anyone else I ever cared about.
I pushed the thought out of my mind as I walked through the front gate of my property. Immediately, my shoulders loosened, and I could finally breathe. No one dared step foot past that gate, and that’s how I liked it.
That was the other reason I couldn’t bring myself to leave. This property, this house, was my sanctuary. I’d grown up here, and all my happiest memories had happened on this plot of land. It was the only thing that made me remember I was loved once. My parents were in every corner of this house, in the photos on the walls, in the furniture, in their bedroom that I hadn’t been able to bring myself to open for years.
It was their home. Now it belonged to me.
A few steps up the walkway and the lush garden hid me from the road. At the end of the winding gravel path, I stomped up the front stairs.
“Fucking fantastic,” I grumbled when I saw the front door wide open. “Couldn’t have closed the door behind you when you went sleepwalking into the damn woods, Reverie? You’re an asshole.”
I wasn’t really worried about anyone breaking in, but I did have a hosta plant in my sunroom that squirrels freaking obsessed over.
With a huff, I locked the door behind me and went to check on my plants. The polka-dot plant was drooping a bit, so I gave it a good watering, but otherwise my little indoor forest looked just fine.
“Pretty green babies,” I cooed to them. “Momma’s here to give you water and fertilizer and take care of you. I’d never leave you . . . intentionally.”
The plants in the farthest corner whispered something.
I gasped, turning around to face them. Of course, it wasn’t the plants—I loved my green babies, but I wasn’t so far gone that I thought they could actually speak back to me.
Someone was in my house.
Would this day never end?
I reached for the ice pick I kept lying around to aerate the soil in the potted plants and brandished it in front of me like a knife. I was a split second away from calling out, Who’s there? but I held it back, rolling my eyes. Do not get slasher-flick-bimbo-murdered, Reverie. You’re better than that.
“. . . is she . . .” The voice came again, from the same spot. Except I was staring right at it, and no one was there.
“. . . but if she is . . . don’t try . . .” That time it sounded like a different voice. It actually reminded me of the voice I’d heard in the woods. And it didn’t sound so much like whispering now that I was focused on it—more like someone speaking really far away.
I stood there for another few moments and contemplated searching the house, but then I dropped my weapon and dragged my ass into the bathroom. Either I’d lost my mind or the exhaustion and dehydration were giving me auditory hallucinations again. Either way, I needed a shower.
After a good hour in the bathroom—scrubbing away dirt, wincing every time soap got into one of my scrapes, sanitizing each injury I could reach, and moisturizing my whole body—I put on my comfiest shorts and T-shirt and headed into the kitchen. My stomach growled almost constantly, demanding bitch. Grabbing Chinese leftovers from the fridge, I carried the box over to the couch and started wolfing it down cold.
With my belly full and my body clean and safe, I couldn’t avoid thinking about it any longer. Who had fallen victim to the curse of just plain knowing me?
It started when I was eleven years old: every time I sleepwalked, I’d wake up to discover someone I loved had been taken from me. And once all my loved ones were gone, anyone I even remotely cared about ended up being next.
So as much as it hurt, I couldn’t blame the people of Gritton for staying away.
I hadn’t sleepwalked in nearly a year though. I’d kept my distance even from those outside my town. I was a straight-up bitch to almost everyone I met. I literally had no friends; I didn’t even have acquaintances. Who was there left to take?
My phone started ringing, the sound carrying through the empty house from my bedroom.
By the time I hobbled to my room, wincing from my sore muscles and scraped feet, the phone had stopped ringing. I pulled it off the charger to see half a dozen missed calls and a text message, all from the same person.
I called him back.
“Rev, hey!” Morris sounded rushed. He was my boss from the diner two towns over where I worked a few times per week. I didn’t really need the income—my ginseng and herbs brought in more than enough for me to live comfortably—but I craved at least a little normality. I liked going somewhere where no one knew me, no one glared at me, no one hated me.
“Hey, Mo, what’s up?” I gingerly lowered myself to the bed.
“Can you work tonight?” he asked.
The way I was feeling right now? No way in hell. I opened my mouth to say as much, but he kept speaking.
“Diana didn’t show up for her shift this morning. Laura covered it, but now she can’t do the dinner shift, so can you cover that?”
“Diana didn’t show up? That’s not like her.” I squeezed my eyes shut and braced myself.
“Yeah.” My manager sighed. “I got ahold of her husband about an hour ago. She’s in the hospital. Apparently, she just didn’t wake up this morning. They’re running tests.”
“Oh my god.” I felt sick to my stomach.
“I know. They have no idea what’s causing it.”
“Yeah, I’ll take the shift. It’s no problem.”
“Thanks, Rev.”
It was the least I could do—considering I was the reason Diana was in the hospital in the first place.
ℙ𝕣𝕖𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕠𝕟 𝔸𝕞𝕒𝕫𝕠𝕟: https://geni.us/reverie-redemption
November 30, 2021
Enter the Reverie and Redemption Giveaway!
ℝ𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 ℝ𝕖𝕕𝕖𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕣𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕖𝕤 𝕟𝕖𝕩𝕥 𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕜 𝕠𝕟 𝔻𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝟡𝕥𝕙 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕀 𝕒𝕞 𝕤𝕠 𝕖𝕩𝕔𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕚𝕥!
𝐄𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧!
https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/sh...
𝐄𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧!
https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/sh...
November 16, 2021
Reverie and Redemption Teaser
"It wasn't the first time I'd woken up in a place I hadn't gone to sleep. What worried me was what often came after."
Preorder: https://geni.us/reverie-redemption
Preorder: https://geni.us/reverie-redemption
November 10, 2021
The cover for my new PNR RH is up for preorder!
I'm so excited to share the cover for my new PNR RH! Reverie and Redemption is releasing on December 9th!
ℙ𝕣𝕖𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕠𝕟 𝔸𝕞𝕒𝕫𝕠𝕟: https://geni.us/reverie-redemption
𝐵𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑠/𝐵𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑠: 𝐼𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑎𝑛 𝐴𝑅𝐶 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑜𝑜𝑘, 𝑠𝑖𝑔𝑛 𝑢𝑝 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒!
https://forms.gle/PNRBUgcu4oCVvio4A
ℙ𝕣𝕖𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕠𝕟 𝔸𝕞𝕒𝕫𝕠𝕟: https://geni.us/reverie-redemption
𝐵𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑠/𝐵𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑠: 𝐼𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑎𝑛 𝐴𝑅𝐶 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑜𝑜𝑘, 𝑠𝑖𝑔𝑛 𝑢𝑝 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒!
https://forms.gle/PNRBUgcu4oCVvio4A
February 28, 2021
Win one of THREE signed paperback copies of Like You Should
Enter for a chance to win one of THREE signed paperback copies of Like You Should!
Enter here
Release date: March 19th 2021
Enter here
Release date: March 19th 2021
March 18, 2020
Read Just Be Her - FOR FREE
❤️ FREE BOOK! ❤️
As many of my fellow authors are, I'd like to do what little I can to make this crazy ass time a little easier on people. So, Just Be Her will be free for a few days.
Get it here: http://bit.ly/jbh-free
And if you have links to any other awesome freebies and deals, please pop them in the comments below! 😊
Stay safe everyone! xo
As many of my fellow authors are, I'd like to do what little I can to make this crazy ass time a little easier on people. So, Just Be Her will be free for a few days.
Get it here: http://bit.ly/jbh-free
And if you have links to any other awesome freebies and deals, please pop them in the comments below! 😊
Stay safe everyone! xo
December 2, 2019
It Started With a Sleigh!
It Started With A Sleigh: A Christmas Romance is now available!
This is a feel-good, steamy reverse harem romance with all the mysterious Christmas magic of a Netflix special! I had a lot of fun writing it and I hope you enjoy reading it.
Read Now
This is a feel-good, steamy reverse harem romance with all the mysterious Christmas magic of a Netflix special! I had a lot of fun writing it and I hope you enjoy reading it.
Read Now
