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Enjoy an excerpt:
“Give me my brother back and I’ll go to Saint Augustine’s,” a small voice, that of a child, caught his attention. He could barely make out the shadow of a little girl to his right, huddled behind a larger man with bulging eyes and greasy hair. With more gusto in her voice, she stepped out from behind the man and stood up taller, her jaw set in challenge.
“I said, let my brother Collin go, and I’ll get you into Saint Augustine’s.”
Something about the guts it took to speak to him so defiantly and offer herself for sacrifice intrigued him, but he wasn’t sure if she was even a member of the church.
“You belong to the church?” Onyx watched her head fall and her eyes blur with tears.
“I did…once.” She faltered in her brave facade, something in her broke, the frown on her face turned into a dark grimace.
“So none of you are current members?” A few murmurs of the word “no” and he was satisfied. Their testimonies seemed heartfelt and sincere. He did not feel like entering all of their minds one by one, his ire began to fade and the temperature immediately fell a few degrees. “All right, enough,” he said in defeat. The atmosphere then changed to one of relief and confusion.
“But you didn’t answer our question. We answered yours, but you didn’t answer ours!” A balding man almost cried as he slumped against the wall and rubbed his wrists where his shackles had scoured them raw.
“Why?” A woman beside him chimed in as Onyx turned to leave.
“Give me my brother! I know you have him!” The shy little girl was now screaming accusations at him, her fists pumping the air, but he paid her no mind.
It was always easier to leave out the details. Tork always said there was nothing worse than a room full of hysterical captives. Bad enough to be human, but add in the adrenaline and the fear of the unknown, they became that much more insufferable. He ignored their pleas and timid curses, pulling the door shut with a thud, cutting off their curious stares. Someone yelled out they were hungry and he hesitated a little, trying to remember what hunger was. Ah yes, the need for food. The youngest of his clan, Sapphire, usually fed them three meals a day: canned food, all stolen from the local country store. He had no need for food and didn’t keep any around. Sapphire and some others would simply slip into the stores at night and rob them blind in small quantities.
About the Author:
I grew up admiring my father, Barry Weinstock, as an author. He took me around the country to different places so he could research and write his Wilderness Survival books. One of his greatest works, “The Path of Power,” was written with a great medicine man, Sunbear.
When I was twelve I started hand writing novels. My first one was two thousand pages. My dad always encouraged me and would rave about my writing. He gave me the confidence I needed to keep writing and follow my dream. My daughter, who is twelve, is currently working on her first novel. I hope to continue the legacy.
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