![Prologue](https://writerscafe.s3.amazonaws.com/stories/thumbs/76f51ae586661528c89a63053fb340eb.jpg) |
Therewas a time when my legal name was Nicolle Darling and I was nothing like I am today.
Those were the days of grief... my brother Adam had died a..
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![Chapter One](https://writerscafe.s3.amazonaws.com/stories/thumbs/2b8cb88a03721e1fa3d4dae50484c433.jpg) |
Nicolle Darling and her brother, Adam, were dreamers like most eight
and ten year olds. In their daydreams -- which eventually took
the form of ..
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![Chapter Two](https://writerscafe.s3.amazonaws.com/stories/thumbs/6b9c5859519f43d55050b1cfe40f9850.jpg) |
Chapter
Two: A Memory of Fire (in a Cold, Cold Place)
Nicolle
Darling was known on the online community asSalem. She
didn’t know..
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![Chapter Three](https://writerscafe.s3.amazonaws.com/stories/thumbs/733741d41d3d98112d278845101af5b2.jpg) |
Nicolle
opened her eyes. Sunlight and silence; beams from her window made
squares of light on her walls, dust particles floating around in..
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![Chapter Four](https://writerscafe.s3.amazonaws.com/stories/thumbs/12c51f4e4e95686c764a8551e2ed401b.jpg) |
Elijah
Beaumont reached with his free hand and turned the volume up on his
phone, from which poured the sounds of The Din Symphonic. They we..
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![Chapter Five](https://writerscafe.s3.amazonaws.com/stories/thumbs/d7828256311062a73eae2ab77655c0fa.jpg) |
Nicolle
read the email again. Then a third time. A fourth. A fifth. Unable to
catch her breath, she stood and walked across the room, her ..
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![Chapter Six](https://writerscafe.s3.amazonaws.com/stories/thumbs/cdfb94d4dfb7a4033c06e1732965510e.jpg) |
“You
know... maybe we should have a seat,” the
green eyed boy had said moments prior. “We've
got a whole lot to cover.&rd..
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![Chapter Seven](https://writerscafe.s3.amazonaws.com/stories/thumbs/cbe2531191b453bbd6ea6b9ee61a0d2c.jpg) |
When at last the bell sounded,
ending first period, the members of the Chess Club slowly exited Room 44, their
shades hiding the secrets they carri..
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![Chapter Eight](https://writerscafe.s3.amazonaws.com/stories/thumbs/2ad019b254c597df0642680ce970e39b.jpg) |
It
was nearing eight o’clock when Vee saidalmost
home.
The
road Vee lived down had a rustic, old country painting feel to it;
her drive..
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