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171 pages, Kindle Edition
Published August 1, 2022
You never knew what people could get away with in Seabridge.
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DISCLAIMER: the author and I have been following one another for a couple months now. Shortly after I joined Instagram in July, 2022, Cassidy was one of the first individuals I really connected with. I consider her a friend. I'm reviewing her book of my own volition. My opinions are my own.
Water hugged his skin, chilling him to his core. He shivered, sitting up and sinking his hands into wet sand. His midsection was submerged by the incoming tide. Looking around, he saw his family standing by, their feet wading in the water. Reaching out to him, they called his name, but he couldn't find their comforting arms, only the inevitable feeling that his skull would burst.
Out further the waves became larger, and she could see them frothing with power. This water was unforgiving when it wanted to be, and the wind had picked up just enough for an angry concoction. Below her the water looked dark, trailing out in a line that ran below and beyond her with no visible end.
Shelly Sinclair wrote her own stories and songs into a little book she carried around. Elmer loved it when she'd read them aloud. His favorite story was about a lonely girl who wished for artistic abilities, so she spoke to the sea, and the sea spoke back. From its depths it presented her a gift: she would be able to sing like the angels, but there was a catch.
In the darkness, Donna's bruised and beaten body pedaled its way through Seabridge. Passing the little neighborhoods and homes she'd driven by countless times, like Ms. Horncastle's house with the yellow shingles, a sweet old woman who'd sit our on her patio watching the birds. Or Mr. Garner's home, his yard littered with broken lawn mowers and one too many signs that read "RESIGN" in large red font.