The Dyerville Tales by M. P. Kozlowsky

Author:M. P. Kozlowsky
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2014-09-10T04:00:00+00:00

Barlow Manor

Vincent was on the back of the horse, galloping along a dusty road, their shadows lost in the dense clouds of dirt violently kicked up behind them. The sun burned Vincent’s golden skin without remorse, and his weight—he was nearly three times as heavy now, covered as he was in gold—had begun to drastically slow Orin. After riding for hours, they would need to rest soon. Luckily, they had drawn near to where Vincent had grown up. He knew exactly where to go.

“We have to stop soon!” he shouted into Orin’s ear. “There’s somewhere I wish to go. We’ll have food, water, a place to sleep.”

“Yes,” Orin agreed, “I tire.”

“Down this way,” Vincent said, pointing west.

The trees he recognized appeared as old friends, branches waving. Every road told a different story he knew by heart. Even the sky appeared the same as when he had first set out those many months ago, not a cloud out of place. Nothing had changed.

Desperately, he wished to see his mother again. He wanted to calm her fears, tell her that he was okay. He wanted to be in her care once again. Safe, happy. And this time he wouldn’t leave; with the gold book in his possession he would discover a way to end the curse once and for all. Oh, to be home; he wanted nothing more.

When they reached the house, Vincent dismounted Orin as if on a spring and, grinning with delight, ran straight inside.

“Mom? Mom?” he called, throwing open the front door so hard he nearly took it off its hinges. “Mother!” He waited for her to come running, hand on her heart, eyes filled with tears, but there was no response. Is she out? he wondered. He looked all over, searching every room, but couldn’t find a trace of her. In fact, the house appeared to have been abandoned some time ago. The walls had begun to wither and crack; dust covered everything; bugs and critters roamed freely. The food had gone bad. What is going on? Where is she?

His nose twitched. What was that smell?

The answer became clear soon enough. Smoke. Smoke and flames. As if Vincent were a lit match, the entire house caught fire. Everywhere he ran, flames followed and spread fast, consuming every corner of the home. Nothing could be saved.

Vincent ran outside, back toward the shed he’d built for her; that seemed to be another lifetime, another person completely. His heart pounding in his chest, he sprinted straight for it, passing his beloved garden, which had gone to seed. What is going on? What is going on? “Mom! Mom!” He ran harder, as if to crash right through the wood doors, the house behind him quickly burning away. Then, just yards from the shed, he was knocked aside by Orin. He landed punishingly on his face and chest, his breath knocked clear out of him. Gasping and grimacing, he gathered himself, looking up at the horse.

“Is she—is she in there?”

Orin shook his head. “No.

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