Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter One
HANNAH
The path is rocky and I struggle with my crutches up the mountain.
I’m seeking a monster who can perform miracles, after all. So what else did I expect if not a struggle? But still, sweat pours down my forehead.
“How much farther?” I ask my guide, a young guy from the nearest town. He’s stopped up ahead. He doesn’t like moving as slowly as I do, so he keeps hiking further, then waiting till I catch up. But he’s the only one I could find who would even take me this far.
These mountain paths are treacherous, or so the locals have warned me. There’s no cell service out here, and though I have a sat phone, I’m not sure it will help me.
It certainly didn’t help the others who took this trail before me in search of miracles, and they were all able-bodied folks. We had to abandon my walker half an hour ago when the path became too narrow, and my balance is dicey at the best of times. And now that I’m so exhausted? I try to hug the side of the mountain path that’s by the forest; the other edge is a sheer cliffside. It’s not like there’s even a railing or anything to grab if I go stumbling that direction.
My guide—Keith—points up the path. “The cave is about a half mile more. That way. But this is as far as I go.”
I frown, confused. “But I paid for you to take me the whole wa—”
“I told you, lady. You’re crazy. No one comes back from here, and if anyone knew I even took you out this far…”
He shakes his head, looking worried. Then he slices his hand through the air. “No. You come back with me now. You got to see it. You can say you came up the mountain, and that it just didn’t work out. Look, I’ll take a picture of you so you can put it on your Insta and prove you did it.”
He pulls out his phone, obviously only for its camera function, since there’s no cell service.
“I’m not turning back.” I frown as he taps the screen, taking pictures of me, I can only assume. “I paid for you to take me as close to the cave as possible.”
He gestures around him. “This is as close as possible, and my mama would kill me if she knew I even went this far. I told you what happens on this mountain.”
He covers his eyes to block out the sun and look up the path toward the mountain that looms above us. The air is thick with mosquitos, but I’ve quickly learned that swatting at them is futile. They just swarm right back.
Keith shakes his head as he turns and starts walking back toward me. “Yeah, we should head back before the sun goes down. We have just enough time to make it to town. This went a lot slower than I expected.” He glances at my elbow crutches. “But if we leave now, we should be able to get far enough down to be safe.”
I dig my crutches into the dirt stubbornly. “I’m not turning back.”
The only person who has made it back alive from this trek is a child—a previously disabled child who has somehow been cured of his terrible scoliosis after visiting the mountain. He speaks of a monster so fierce and deadly, it’s scared away most since. Or so the rumors say. Most people think it’s just a story, one of those local legends. Especially since no one can find the boy, whose family has apparently moved away after the miracle.
But the legend has only grown. Especially since other adventure seekers coming this way recently, most seeking out the mythical beast, have a habit of going missing.
So why am I, a disabled woman alone, who has difficulties navigating a downtown street much less a mountain, attempting such a hike?
Likely because I’m a fool.
And because I’ve always had more heart than brains, or so my fifth-grade teacher said when I jumped off the swing-set when the swing was at its highest, so for once I could pretend to be like all the other kids.
What that teacher and many others along the way have tried to instill is that I am not like the other kids. My twisted spine, club foot, speech problems, and the neurological condition driving it all have placed limitations on me that mean I have to live differently—from the time my condition was discovered at age ten and onwards.
So I dig my arm crutches in, careful to wedge the spikes at the bottom between rocks to make sure I’m steady as I head up the steep path.
Considering the steep, treacherous fall to my left, I’m determined to be extra careful before swinging my body forward.
But forward I will go.