Mosaic
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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Thu, Oct 2, 2014
It wasn’t until Carlos helped me put the pieces back together that I realized how many were missing. Shattered. Tormented. Brain on disconnect. A car accident leaves Erin Rocheford, a seventeen-year-old hockey player, fractured, disfigured, near death. Not only is her future career in the NHL erased, but when she’s finally released from the hospital she can hardly walk, her thoughts stumble into each other, and people grimace when they notice the scars crisscrossing her face. Erin's parents consider a vacation in Florida, on an island of palm trees and pirate lore, is just what she needs to recover. But in her post-traumatic state, Erin is vulnerable to attack, to a ghostly invasion, to a further fragmenting of her troubled grey matter. A pirate tale of an odd English pirate and his feisty captive, a story of defiance and decapitation, will weave itself into her mind and threaten her very soul. She will need to dig up every reserve in her hockey-tuned body to keep from falling apart all together, to fight back and to protect her star player—the one boy who can see beyond the scars. Mosaic Cover, copyright Matthew Birtch
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#76
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Imagine a box. Any box you want. It could be a vintage chestnut chest imported from France, or a simple moldy cardboard box. Either way, it serves the same purpose, being shoved away in the corners of your dusty attic, with a variety of miscellaneous forgotten treasures. You never realise it's up there, abandoned in the thick coating of dust and neglect, until one day, it's all gone. It's always gone just when you discover that its contents may have been key to uncovering the troubled past of that box. But how much would it matter? How far would you go to retrieve the lost broken reveries? My name is Sea. It's a strange name, I know, especially since I can't recall ever being near a sea, but my folks have always been rather strange people. At least, from what I can remember. I've never really known them, but my whole life has been formed around their existence. The things I have learned from them could be looked at as troubled lessons of the world I lived in, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. However, accepting that fact could only be the beginning. This is all that I had gained from my life, and everything my parents gave me. This is all that they had left behind.

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