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Pins and Needles

I’m an international, multiple award-winning author with a passion for the voices in my head. As a singer, songwriter, independent filmmaker and improv teacher and performer, my life has always been about creating and sharing what I create with others. Now that my dream to write for a living is a reality, with over a hundred titles in happy publication and no end in sight, I live in beautiful Prince Edward Island, Canada, with my giant cats, pug overlord and overlady and my Gypsy Vanner gelding, Fynn. Début The world struggles around It, a back and forth seesaw of demand and denial. It flops inside its box as the world spins, turned upside down. One of the shining, pearl-topped pins jabs Its leg. The pain is a shock. But It is unable to do anything about the agony. Gravity lets go and It floats for what seems an eternity before crashing into something hard. The box remains intact, at least. Its home, Its safe haven. Still, It has no fear, only confusion and need. Where is the girl in whose image It was created? Silence. Darkness. Waiting. All the while, the pin. And the pain. On and on forever. Alice isn't popular. Alice isn't pretty. Alice isn't likable--at least, that's what she's been told most of her life. Moving to a new town hasn't helped any, not with her nasty brother torturing her almost daily and her too-cool, uber-popular cousin making her life miserable. When Alice finds an old doll in her grandmother's attic, she feels an unusual connection to it. She just can't bring herself to feel bad when horrible things start happening to the people who are cruel to her...

Patti Larsen · Terror
Classificações insuficientes
41 Chs

Chapter 23: Stolen

Despite her eagerness to have the day go quickly, Alice dutifully rose a half hour early and went through her new routine, makeup and hair carefully tended. She sighed over her old jeans before having an idea. It took her a little longer than she wanted, barely leaving her time to choke down some breakfast before running out the door for school, but the two strips of denim from another pair of jeans she hand-sewed to the cuffs looked kind of funky and, to her relief, actually covered most of her sneakers, the backs trailing on the ground.

No more ankles showing for Alice.