You’ll find several excerpts below.
This story is about escape, a journey into the world of magic and witchcraft, and so far I have traveled a thousand miles. I am not alone; the Red Man follows me, always watching, always there, and for all my attempts to talk to him, the man refuses contact. I don’t know why he follows.
The path continued to wind downhill, with inclines suited for the fit, not the dying. My emotions curled left and right, a bright euphoria wracking my brain, and my mouth talked despite me, rambling on about philosophies and welcome death, my mind an uncommon commotion of excitement without cause. I remembered something I failed to remember. Or something forgotten I couldn’t forget.
The path descended into fog. It was a wet fog, warm despite the cool wind brushing against me, bringing back memories of the sea.
The town Solstice was near.
I paused to catch my breath, tightening my jacket before forcing myself to continue.
The world cracked in lighted torment: a thunderstorm?
Ahead stood a man, at his hand three leashes with three great dogs.
“How far is it to Solstice?” I said. I had sought out the man with fury, and the sight of me must have scared him, for he blinked strangely and looked at his dogs. “The town, man, where is the town?”
Finally he pointed at the black horizon, a darkness lit by exploding fists of light. I continued – half-expecting to find the town besieged by hysteria and war.
No, these were fireworks. A celebration. Solstice.