Black Hellebore E-Book

Maya Shepherd

• Herausgeber: Maya Shepherd
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016

Beschreibung

Black Hellebore

Leseprobe

Maya Shepherd

Table of Contents

Title Page

Black Hellebore

Novel | E-Book

Copyright ©2013 Maya Shepherd

Other books by Maya Shepherd: | The Scarred Girl

For my soulsister

“Once I was cold,

Promise

Black Hellebore

Novel

E-Book

Copyright ©2013 Maya Shepherd

Cover: The Cover Collection

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted, with the exception of a reviewer who may quote passages in a review, without written prior permission from the publisher.

Facebook: Maya Shepherd

Blog: www.mayashepherd.blogspot.de

Twitter: Maya Shepherd

English Translation by Bellinda Zabcic

Other books by Maya Shepherd:

The Scarred Girl

For my soulsister

Sabrina Stocker

“Once I was cold,

And for me there was no warmth.

Once I was hungry,

And for me there was no nourishment.

Once I was sad,

And for me there was no comfort.

She took me in,

She fed me.

She clothed me.

In her arms I found comfort.

I cried till blood ran from my eyes

And she kissed them away.”

(from the book of NOD)

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- Prologue -

Her feet are bloody and blistered from the scorching desert sand. The sun beats down mercilessly on her unprotected head, while the skin of her naked body begins to flake. Her parched lips are cracked and torn. She seems to be close to death – but things are not always as they seem. She sheds the dead sheath of her old skin with a reptilian ease, only to re-emerge in full bloom.

Even in her current state with her flaking skin and features burned beyond anything recognisable as human, any man who would glimpse her for just the fleetest second would fall for this creature without any thought or reason. As if in the grasp of an impossible mirage, he would fall to his knees before her burned and blistered feet, ready and willing to do her bidding – whatever that might be. But she would pass him by without a single glance while his entire being would beg for her to notice him, cringing in the dust like a dog eager to please his mistress. There will never be another man worthy of the blood red gaze of her eyes.

Betrayal is man’s most loyal companion. She left her first of her own free will because he wanted to break her will. He wanted to own her whole being as one would a slave. The second, who would no longer walk this Earth without her, cast her away in fear of becoming her minion. She had taken him in when he was lost and lonely, had given him sustenance, warmth and even a love that could have lasted through the ages. But he had preferred the company of the unworthy because he had recognised her immeasurable beauty and power. He knew he would never – could never – be her equal.

It would have been so easy to snuff out his life, but she is the mistress of time itself. Her life is longer than that of any other – why then should she end a life she could toy with for centuries to come? Patience is a virtue only few can call their own – but she is the mistress of time. She can wait. She will remain in the shadows as a silent observer and will wait until he begins to feel safe once again, because he would never be able to forget her. Nobody, who has ever met her, was ever able to forget her.

Driven by hatred, she continues on, setting one foot in front of the other, day after day, night after night. She has eternity at her disposal, enough time to devise the most brutal revenge, and it shall come as an utter surprise. Nobody will see it coming, which will make it that much more cruel and merciless.

She will destroy every last one of his disgusting creations, until the last of his creatures are gone. They are weak and without hope. So much different from the children she will bring into this world, glowing with the beauty and power she will bestow on them. Her children will be the true masters of this Earth, perfect to the last detail and with the brains they will need to rule and think – not just to carry around a pretty face.

As she finally reaches the edge of the Red Sea, her feet bring the water to a boil at every step. It bubbles around her blistering skin as if it were touching red-hot coals. Her form is obscured by thickening veils of rising steam with every step she takes deeper into the water. Like an evening mist it begins to spread towards the land, diminishing only as she turns and walks back towards the shore. The setting sun makes her hair glow like red flames around her head, creating a startling contrast to the emerald green of her eyes. Gone is the flaked, blistered skin, replaced by a velvety suppleness, smoother than that of a newborn child.

The goddess of life has awakened, as young as the Earth, and she will only cease to be once the Earth herself fades and dies.

––––––––

- 1. Lia Green -

She tries to make herself as small and invisible as possible on the hard chair, staring straight ahead with empty eyes. The first few chords of Metallica’s “Nothing else matters” come from the earphone slyly pushed into her right ear, with the volume turned low enough that only she can hear the music. She had meant to use the other ear to listen to her history teacher droning on about the effects of the First World War, but instead she hears that quiet and cruel voice once again in the overcrowded classroom – and not a word of what Mr. Atkins was saying. Her seat in the last row allows her to see her classmates look around at her inconspicuously – at least that’s what they think they are doing - only to turn back to each other and whisper. Although the music prevents her hearing every word of their quiet conversations, she can feel their mean glances burning into her. These hateful looks feel like a noose around her neck, tightening just enough to become uncomfortable and sometimes hard enough to make her gasp for air – but never enough to actually squeeze the life out of her.