Darkness Awakens
Written by
Kari Chaplin
Illustrated by: Karen Baxter with Charles Baxter
Cover Design by: Gant Thompson
Copyright © 2016 Kari Chaplin
All rights reserved.
Dedication
For my dad, Charlie,
The thank you list is never ending. Thank you for always choosing us. Thank you for choosing us in the first place. I remember very clearly the minute I met you, I knew that you were meant to be a part of our family. You were supposed to be our dad. You are a great dad. You and Mathew made our family complete. Thank you for everything you have done for me and all of the life lessons you have taught me. You have always been a strong influence in molding me into the person I am today. Thank you for your patience and love. Thank you for family date nights, building our first car to share, and then my own car. That car is still my favorite car. Thank you for pushing the publication of this book. Thank you for always being proud of me and believing in me. I cannot thank you enough for being you and choosing to be our dad. I love you more than you will ever know. It brings me great pain to write this next and final thought about the man I call my dad. You are deeply and perpetually missed.
Acknowledgements
I have many people to acknowledge and thank for the completion of this book. I want to thank my mother, Karen. She has been my rock behind this project from the beginning. She has helped with editing along the way and the illustration. My mom has encouraged me to complete this book and begged me to publish it from the time she first read the partial draft. I need to thank my dad, Charlie; he pushed me to publish this book. Next, I would like to thank my super awesome friends, Jessy Yaeggy and Sharon Mullins, for reading it a million times and always excited to read it again. Thank you both for contributing to the editing process and the many other things you have done to help make this book possible. My husband, Heyward, deserves a much needed thank you. He had helped me in so many ways, even when I interrupted football games. Last, but not least, thank you, Whitney Vaughn, for her contribution to the illustration, even though her lovely mother “lost” it and I was not able to use it for this book. Maybe next time you won’t lose it, Jessy! Last, but not least, Kari (Kari) Simon deserves to be added to this list. Thank you for seeing all of the small things.
Illustrated by: Karen Baxter with Charles Baxter
“Your dreams are the playground for your soul.”
-Charles Baxter
Timber
November 1647
She awoke in a daze on the cold, sodden ground. The clouds were deep gray, almost black, releasing a grim feeling into the air. The ambiance around her resembled twilight; nevertheless, she couldn’t be sure it was even that late in the day. Freezing rain poured from the sky. Mud entangled her long, fiery red hair and tousled locks clung to her back. An angry man towered over Timber. “I’m waiting,” he said with faux patience.
“Where am I?” she inquired. The pain in her head was much too fierce to think. Pain intensified with each slight breath.
“Timber, stop acting imprudently.” The man grabbed his hair in frustration, pulling out short strands of black hair. Even angry, he was beautiful. “Answer my question.”
Tears ran down her cheeks as she sobbed.
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he growled with a deepened Irish accent.
Timber’s already racing heart pounded faster as panic consumed her. “I don’t know.”
He drew her toward him, grabbing the torn material that was once her shirt. “Sure you do. Think.”
“I don’t know. What do you want from me?” Her crying was more frenzied.
“Your mother,” he growled, pulling at his hair.
“My mom?” Timber glanced down at the blood on her body. She felt tender and fragile, like glass.
“Where is your mother?” He reiterated his anger through violence, leaving her once strong body frail.
“My mom is dead.” Those words cut deep.
“Don’t you know, little girl?”
“Don’t I know?” Timber bellowed.
His laugh was menacing. “Death is no obstacle for your mother, I assure you.”
“Please, leave me alone,” Timber begged, ignoring his words.
“You see, I cannot do that. Your light-fingered mum filched something of paramount importance.” The tone of his voice softened. “I just want it back.” His words were tranquil, almost hypnotic.
“I wouldn’t know. My mom didn’t tell me such things.”
“I don’t believe you.” The glint in his eyes was undeniable evil as a jagged edge knife rose above his head. She watched, fear-stricken, as his anger and hatred surged toward her.
A sudden rush of wind sent strands of Timber’s hair flying into the air. Instantly, protection and safety washed over her, melting the incapacitating fear. Pain flowed out of her body like warm, golden honey. He approached her aggressor and spoke to him in a hushed whisper. She could not hear words, but his tone was obvious. His frame shook with wrath.
“I’ll get what is mine if it takes me a thousand years. Or I will get my vengeance.”
“I will be waiting,” her hero replied.
The girl's punisher vanished into thin air.
“What was that?” she cried.
Her savior slowly and carefully slid one arm under her knees and the other under her feeble neck, lifting her limp body carefully from the cold, wet ground.
“You are safe now.”
Her consciousness faded into oblivion.
Undisclosed Location
September- Current Year
“I have a job for you.” The voice in the shadow sounded different somehow.
“Who?”
“The deadline is March,” the voice continued.
“The origin of this request is a matter of conjecture,” the assassin observed.
“That is a correct assumption.”
