To say thanks to everyone who has read my book Dernketh the Broken Island so far I will be sharing the first few chapters here plus some behind the scenes and extra bits. You can read the entire book right now on Amazon either as a paperback or eboo...
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LARK
I awoke to darkness.
Jet black freezing darkness like I'd sunk to the bottom of the sea. I sat up, a bed creaking beneath me, searching for even the smallest chink of light, but there was nothing. What had happened? I'd been on the beach, then...
I was up there again, staring over the edge of the tower. Falling. Flying.
The thought landed in my stomach with a dull thud.
I'd died. The island had killed me. And now I was in hell.
Before I had the chance to panic a tiny candlelight bobbed towards me. Maybe this was death himself personally collecting me. I watched in a daze as the light floated upwards illuminating a leather gilet, a filthy grey jumper and – a face. I screamed. Huge and monstrous, it was like looking at a giant spider down a microscope. I threw myself out of bed but hands clamped my arms, forcing me down with terrifying strength. I sank my teeth into the hands. Blood and the stench of alcohol flooded my mouth. My attacker yelled. The candle went out plunging us back into blackness.
"Owwww, what the hell?" The monster roared but I was fleeing through the darkness. Something on the floor hit my ankles and I went flying. My head smacked against a wall and I fell on cold floorboards, lights flashing in my vision. I crawled to my knees, dazed.
"Calm down, you little Viper!"
A man's voice. Deep and breathy. Footsteps stamped towards me. I swirled round in terror, trying to see, but only darkness stared back. If he wanted me to be a viper so be it! I'd fight to the bloody death. But if I couldn't see him then maybe... I clamped my hands over my mouth and nose. His heavy breathing filled the silence. I tensed, waiting for his hands to grab me.
The floorboard in front of me groaned and I bit back a scream.
"I don't want to hurt you. Even though you hurt me," he grumbled. He didn't sound like a monster. His voice was ragged like shredded wood. But there was a softness like the sea's tongue had slowly worn him down. He sounded human. Tired.
"My name's Bern," he said. "What's yours?"
I crushed my mouth with my hands until I couldn't breathe.
Bern sighed. "I saw what happened at the tower. Your boyfriend shouted for help. I saved you."
I frowned, listening intently. Saved me? But what about the boy? I hoped he'd got away. I had to bite my lips so I wouldn't ask.
"Fine!" Bern snapped, "Stay clammed up. But you'd think you'd be grateful. I even cleaned your cuts. But who cares about that? I'm only Bern the hermit."
So that was the alcoholic smell clinging to me. My fear dwindled like water deciding whether to go down the plughole or not. A murderer wouldn't clean someone's wounds, would they?
