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“Don’t die till we get to have some fun, girl.”
Samuel’s whiskey-ruined voice was hot in Charlotte’s ear.
Somewhere behind her, his Yankee cohort's maniacal laughter pulsated with cruelty.
The older defector's Bowie knife grew closer to her face, but with her arms lashed behind her, Charlotte could only watch in helpless terror as the promise of death drew nearer. When the icy blade met the skin of her neck, she knew her end had come.
Sanderson, she prayed, her thoughts swirling like a tempest. Where are you?
Somewhere behind her, his Yankee cohort's maniacal laughter pulsated with cruelty.
The older defector's Bowie knife grew closer to her face, but with her arms lashed behind her, Charlotte could only watch in helpless terror as the promise of death drew nearer. When the icy blade met the skin of her neck, she knew her end had come.
Sanderson, she prayed, her thoughts swirling like a tempest. Where are you?
This guy is really perverted. Is the cavalry about to arrive, I hope?
ReplyDeletePeople on both sides of the Civil War show their true colors in this book. From Yankee defectors to packs of murderous Rebs that roam the countryside, hell bend on bloodshed.
DeleteYikes– that was intense! I love the way you described Samuel's voice, and I could definitely feel her terror. I need to know what happens next!
ReplyDeleteThanks Amy! This probably my favorite story I've ever written.
DeleteDramatic! Yikes! Sanderson, where are you indeed? Terrific snippet...
ReplyDeleteVery chilling, and nice descriptions. Well done!
ReplyDelete