Welcome to my version of Throwback Thursday where I take a peek at some of my earlier titles. For the rest of October, I’ll be sharing from my second novel Sister Lost Sister Found, 2006, Bella Books. Sister Lost Sister Found won a GCLS Goldie award for excellence in speculative fiction.
Taelach Sisters Novel #2 (Bella Books 2006)
Rankil is marked for life – destined for abuse and negland ect at the hands of the Autlach. In her world, the worst that can happen to a Taelach child is not death – but life itself. And even though sister Taelachs constantly search for the younger Taelach children, Rankil is so far yet undiscovered.
Join Rankil on her journey to find a home where she is welcomed where love is at least a possibility in this long-awaited sequel to No Sister of Mine.
Winner of a Golden Crown Literary Society award for excellence in speculative fiction.
Here’s #TBT one for Sister Lost Sister Found.
We lash out at that which we don’t understand.
– Taelach wisdom
They named her Rankil, odd enough name but one she rarely heard. More often, they called her Ugly, Stupid or simply Rank, like her smell offended them. She answered to any of them because they all meant the same. They wanted her to things no one else would— clean, lift, carry things far heavier than any child should. Of their blood, she served them as a slave and nothing more, the middle child of the family, a mark of sin on their otherwise prominent position within the isolated farming community they called home. She bore their anger, suffered as the vent point for their frustrations. Rankil was the light among the dark, too tall and skinny to be one of them, physical evidence of the long-forgotten human influence on their planet— a Taelach child in an Autlach world.
Whack! The sweeper handle landed square on Rankil’s lower back, sending her sprawling to the floor.
“Stupid girl. I taught you to brush the floors better than this. You won’t be lazy, Rank. Earn your keep if you expect to eat today.” Rankil’s mother Meelsa raised the sweeper handle for another blow. Fifteen-pass-old Rankil, in a dirty dress and bare feet, cowered, unsure what she had done wrong.
“You see this?” Meelsa pulled her to the front door and shoved her face-first into the space behind it. “See the dirt?” You sweep behind the doors. How many times must I tell you?”
“Too many?” The answer earned Rankil another blow. The question must have been one of the many her mother asked that expected no answer.
More next week, I promise.