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680 pages, Kindle Edition
First published March 17, 2023
โThe sea was a collector of things. It took things we cherishedโmost things weโd forgottenโand I still found myself drawn to her, unable to resist her call, needing to step into the graveyard of the lost, wild, and treasured.โ
โShe was the sun, who shone a light on me, making me question if she were gone, who would I be, and would I exist at all?
Without her, there would be no ears to hear me.
No fingers to touch me.
No lips to taste me.โ
โSomehow, Iโd found a hidden passage winding into the tomb heโd built around himself. Inside, Stone had a heart that wasnโt as black and cold as his eyes. He just didnโt know how to use it. His face was like a marble statue as we stared at each other. His breaths were quiet again, whispers through carved blue lips. He looked into my eyes, and each time he blinked his lashes splayed across his muted cheeks like soot.โ
โ I feel like you and me are ashes,โ I whispered, and Stoneโs eyes were bloodshot when they swung to mine. Iโd never seen them bloodshot before. Ink and blood. โWeโre ashes,โ I repeated. โWe hold our shape until someone pokes at us. We last hundreds of years. We donโt dissolve or float; we sink, and oh, do we sink. But at the end of the day, weโre still ashes.โ
โAll this time, we kept rewriting our tragic story, desperate to change our bitter end. And what has saved us? Our hearts were so tangled it was hard to know who was holding who too tight. We have a love that outlasts love. Fate was never on our side, but we didnโt need it. Time stood in our way, so we created our time.โ
โ Thereโs more to me than this, I know, but there is no escape. Trauma has a way of tying knots with our bones. This is what happens when a woman has a mind she canโt use, a loyalty sheโs forced to refuse. This is what happens when a womanโs oppressed, silenced, ridden of purpose. This is what happens, I want to scream. My rage has turned into crazy. My secret is so heavy, the things that would happen to me if I ever said it aloud. I hate them for what they did to her. I hate them for what theyโre doing to me. But I hate myself more for this thing inside me, feeding me these thoughts I canโt control.โ
โ Whatโs the cure for heartbreak?โ I asked. She looked up at me as she turned the page. โPoetry,โ she replied. โAnd books. A lot of books.โ
โWelcome to Weeping Hollow, where monsters called Heathens kill your friends, neighbors, and even children. A town where shadows appear in the middle of the night and murder you while youโre dreaming.โ
โHere, on Bone Island, we were two people from two different worlds who found ourselves across the ocean in a lighthouse where secrets screamed to be kept, new stories to be collected like dust.โ