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Eight: Not Even The Monsters.

ELIANA.

The bumpy roads caused my shoulders to sway back and forth, gnashing against the sides of the truck. I was in the back, alongside all the other travelers after we alighted from the train that brought us into New Orleans. I knew my way from there.

Squatting in the back of the truck with a helmet around my head and blanket wrapped around both Elijah and myself, we finally arrived at the town’s market. Oakland was not so far from here but to get across to it, I needed to go through Tombsdale.

The scent of the ever-dark and eerie town sent a shiver up my spine and Elijah jerked forward immediately after the truck came to a halt. The driver alighted and opened the back for us to come down.

“Come on,” I held around my son’s shoulders, holding him up so he didn’t fall. His eyes were obviously still blurry as he’d just woken up and the sun was merciless in its shining from above the horizon.

I couldn’t remember the last time I saw a morning as bright as this. Tuscany could be hot but
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Comments (2)
goodnovel comment avatar
Dorotea Troncon
exactly the same I was thinking. readers dnt read for reading sake. we read because we love it. The least is to get some facts straight.
goodnovel comment avatar
Rose SB
I thought her mum was dead. Didn't you mean her grandma?
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