She came from the woods, her hair deserving of jewels and her face as sad as a dying tulip.
A foster child, Jay Baker has been alone since birth. With no one to talk to, his journal pages become his family as he chronicles his journey toward adoption.
"Is it true you do not spank me because I am blind?" Father said nothing. Only his breathing sounded as Miles' heart sank. It was true, after all. It was not love; it was because he was blind. Disabled. Different.
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Virgin vaguely recalled exchanging a rake for his fishing pole. Pa folded his arms as Virgin's shoulders slumped.
He was ten years old and already running from the blaze on the horizon where his parents and siblings, servants and friends burned in the flames.
The place off the smell of sadness; salt mixed with ashes and dead rose petals. A cloak of tragedy settled over all those who entered to walk the paths between the burial plots.
They hold me prisoner deep within the earth. It is a world of death and hate. I miss the sun. Here in these caverns there is only darkness. Even my thoughts are not my own.
The nursery fell quiet as the children stopped playing to listen to his answer. Miles looked in the direction of the governess's voice. "I want my mother." He felt strangely alone in this unfamiliar manor like a ship without an anchor drifting at the mercy of the tide.
Father picked him up, turned him over his knee, and Miles began to wonder as he wriggled, wanting to sit up but held down by Father's arm. He felt an impeding sense of dread but could not see through his sightless eyes to read Father's face.
Miles walked without fear though he could not see the grass under his feet or the trees rustling their leaves around him. He wore no blindfold; he was blind.