by M.R. Pritchard
Series: Sparrow Man #2
Publication: YOU help decide
Genre: Horror, Supernatural, Zombies
Things aren’t so wonderful within the Seven Kingdoms of Heaven. Meg promised on Sparrow’s life not to leave, but Sparrow’s starting to act a little… strange. Again. The daughter of an Archangel and the Devil’s own spawn should know better than to expect two tickets to paradise without complications. But sometimes falling in love can change a world-weary country girl. Sometimes following your heart means losing your mind.
You may remember me from #zOctober2015 and my character interview for Sparrow Man. Guess what? Book 2 in the series is ready for reading!
This is your chance to help bring a book to life, take a peek at Nightingale Girl on KindleScout. If you like what you’ve read, nominate the book for a publishing contract. You get a FREE advanced copy of the Kindle eBook if it’s chosen for publication. (While Nightingale Girl is the second book in the Sparrow Man series it may be read as a standalone.)
But wait, there’s more! The Kindle eBook of Sparrow Man is free this week (April 4-8). Get both books in the Sparrow Man Series for FREE when you get your copy of Sparrow Man now and nominate Nightingale Girl for publication.
And now, a little something special from the world of Sparrow Man. In both books mentioned above, Meg recounts her escape from prison but we never truly see exactly how it happened, until now!
Spoon of Freedom
There’s a bent and tarnished spoon about an arm’s length from my cell. My eyes flick between it and the nine walking sacks of flesh that are currently stinking up the place. One of them hisses at me. The thing’s eyes are dead but somehow it seems to know that I’m interested in that spoon. I’m definitely interested in that spoon. Been burning a hole in it for about three days, trying to work up the courage to reach out there and grab it. I’ve got nothing in this jail cell that might help me escape. Tried breaking bits of metal off of the bed, all that got me was some bloody fingers. The dead outside my cell went wild as soon as they smelled the first drop of blood, or maybe it was the noise. Who knows? All I know was that metal bedframe did more damage to me than I did to it. It was probably a good thing that happened, would have never caught that rat the other day if the stinking body bags hadn’t made such a ruckus. A big fat rat come running out of the wall, probably figured I was dead and hoping to get the first bite. He wasn’t so lucky. I glance at the plate littered with drying skin, fur, and tiny bones, hold back the gagging sensation. I had to do it, I tell myself. Never harmed an animal before in my life but I’ve never gone 5 days without food either. There’s still dried blood under my fingernails. Can’t scrape it out, no matter how hard I’ve tried.
The clang of metal refocuses my attention. One of the dead stumbled over the spoon. My hearbeat kicks up. That’s my only hope, my only chance of freedom. The only clearly visible chance at least. I breathe shallow, wait against the far wall for those dead suckers to fall when the sun goes down. Something strange about this place, those walking dead drop like they’ve come to their final dirt-nap when the sun goes down. And then when the sun comes back up in the morning, they rise and start ambling like cows in the pasture again.
After a few hours the shadows of the prison begin to spread, they stain the last bits of day, smudge the light out until there’s nothing but darkness. Nine thuds echo as the dead drop. I’ve finally convinced myself that-after days of watching this-they never wake up in the night. I take a deep breath, crawl across my cell and situate my shoulder against the bars. The smell is the worst part. Well, besides waking up in this cell with no idea what’s going on besides realizing that everyone else in this Godforsaken prison is dead.
There’s a lifeless guard between me and the spoon of freedom. The dead man is seriously rotting. He’s lost his hat and his gun, which makes him a double dose of worthless. I reach over his lumpy back, feel his body squish and separate underneath the cloth of his blue uniform. I reach, reach, reach, reach. Press my shoulder harder into the bars until I finally grasp the handle of the spoon between my two fingers. I lift my arm, barely a good hold on the spoon, it dangles from between my fingertips and threatens to drop. Holding my breath, I pull my arm back until it’s safely inside the comfort of my lonely cell. I grip the spoon in my fist, spin myself to face the wall, and scoot closer. I begin to chip away at the already crumbling cement, praying to Saint Andy Dufresne as a small hole begins to take shape. I don’t really think Andy Dufresne a saint but he should be after escaping from Shawshank.
Thanks for stopping by, taking a read, and considering nominating Nightingale Girl.
Happy Reading! ~ M. R. Pritchard
~Praise for Sparrow Man~
“Tantalizingly suspenseful, sending delicious shivers down the readers’ spine! Not only are you engrossed in the story, but you really love both Meg and Sparrow Man. Meg isn’t simply an empty vehicle of a main character, a host for the reader’s experiences and reactions to everything going on in the book. She is her own person, clearly defined, and we respect her strong will and her grit.”
-Jessica Crawford, The Sentient
“I was hooked from the get-go…” – ABNA Expert Reviewer
~About the Author~
M. R. Pritchard enjoys books, coffee, and rum – not necessarily in that order. She is currently plotting her escape from the frozen north to the land of sand and sun.
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