Novel: Reaper’s Puppet (Prologue)


I walked in the moonlight; my skin pale as the first fallen snow, my sapphire eyes reflecting the twinkling stars. As I crept slowly through the darkness, my white-blonde hair snagged upon a crooked branch. In the distance I heard footsteps; at least ten soldiers were gaining at my heels, watching my every move.

I tugged hard on my curls, snapping the hand of a withered willow. I keep running. My tattered suede boots carried me on, gathering thick layers of mud on the heels. As I continued on, faint voices rung in my frost-bitten ears.

“You call yourself soldiers, stick to the tracks.  Do not let her escape again!”

They were chasing me, following me out into my domain. But why were they hunting me? What had I done wrong?

These questions circled in my head, taunting my confused mind; the answer was not yet clear, but one thing was certain, I would never stop running.

I jumped over many rise tree-trunks, each one slightly higher above ground than the last. I could see the moonlight through a crack in the trees, the end was in sight.

Just as I thought I was safe; my ankle twisted. I tumbled to the dirty ground, smashing my head against a mossy rock. I lay on my bruised back wondering what would become of me, if the soldiers found me.

I clutched my forehead, a pulsing pain pushed hard against the skin. Tears clustered in the corner of my eyes; stagnant moss grazed my cheeks, broken bark sticking in my pale skin.

Was this the end?


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