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Serenity House

Books and writing have always been an enormous part of Anita's life. She survived school by hiding out in the library, with several thousand fictional characters for company. At university, she overcame the boredom of studying accountancy by squeezing in Egyptology papers and learning to read hieroglyphics. Today, Anita writes historical fantasy novels from her home in rural New Zealand. You can find her on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/AWExley Be the first to hear about new releases, specials, and giveaways. Sign up at: https://awexley.com/newsletter/ In 1918 England, join an Edwardian Cinderella on her journey to defeat the undead and find her happily ever after Part 1: Ella,The Slayer Seventeen-year-old Ella copes the best she can scrubbing the floors, and slaying the undead. Then the new Duke of Leithfield arrives in the village and working alongside Seth, Ella glimpses a future she never dreamed was possible. But in overstepping society's boundaries, she could lose everything - home, head and her heart... Part 2: Alice, The Player Ella must venture down a rabbit hole, but this is no wonderland... When Alice goes missing without a trace, the new vermin queen sends an invitation--Ella is welcome to try and rescue her friend, before Elizabeth lets her subjects tear the housemaid apart. Part 3: Rory, The Sleeper Could the long dead duchess, Millicent deMage, be the key to understanding the pandemic of vermin? The final battle is looming, but this might be one fight Ella can't win, and she will be the one put to sleep forever... Part 4 Bonus: Henry, the Gaoler On the frontlines of the Great War, Henry kept a token of happier times - a worn photograph of a young girl with long blonde plaits. He returns from war damaged and vowing to do one brave thing to make up for his cowardice - release Hazel from her prison. But is it safe with the pandemic and its horrific aftermath?

A.W. Exley · Ficção Científica
Classificações insuficientes
90 Chs

Chapter 82

I screamed until my voice gave out and still I ran. My vocal cords might not have stamina, but my legs did. Blindly, I didn't care what direction or what obstacle stood before me, I ran away. I would surmount anything to leave the horror behind me. But no matter how fast I moved my feet or how hard my lungs worked, it stayed at my back. Death was stitched to me; it formed part of my fabric and rippled over my skin.

And it laughed.

The black shadow chuckled and mocked my feeble attempts to slip its clutches until, exhausted, I fell to the ground. Then I curled up in a ball, clasped my hands over my head, and sobbed. Why didn't the Grim Reaper cut me down? Then, at least the nightmare would end. An eternity in Hell would not be any worse than living.

In the secret room in my mind, I pulled the blanket up and everything went dark.

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