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Beneath beauty, evil lurks...
Katie
Anderson has no idea who she is, or why she was abandoned to her fate
after an attack by an escaped Sumatran tiger — the pet of a local
Californian scriptwriter. Who was she with when she was attacked? Why
was there a severed goat's head secreted in her rucksack? In the five
years since the attack, Katie has grown accustomed to the indelible paw
print etched on her cheek, which draws sympathetic glances and repulsed
stares in equal measure. That is, until the cruelty of a casual comment
from a wrinkle-free diner at The Alice Garden restaurant in Sanur Beach
sparks her quest for answers, launching Katie on a painful path to
discover the truth. Will Katie find the spiritual and emotional serenity
she craves? Or will society's obsession with physical perfection defeat
her progress?
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EXCERPT
Copyright 2015 © Lindsey Paley
“Run! Run! Faster!”
James’s
words pierced her ears despite the cacophonous sound of her blood
crashing through her veins. Her heart threatened to explode, not from
the physical exertion, but from terror forcing its alarm into her every
extremity.
“Run!”
The
razor-sharp blades of the rice crop slashed at her bare shins like
whips as she shot along the lush fringes of the steeply terraced paddy
fields, their stagnant waters stinging her lacerations and seeping into
her trainers as the verdant shoots flattened under her pounding feet.
Dense jungle and presumed safety loomed ahead to her left, and the
imposing hulk of Mount Batukaru rose on her right.
Her
mahogany hair lashed across her face, obstructing her vision, the
mingling of perspiration from her strenuous sprint and the intense
humidity doubling its volume. The rucksack James had insisted she carry
bounced heavily on her shoulders, serving only to slow her escape.
“Run!”
Lit
by dappled silver moonlight, the tropical forest of palm and banyan
trees appeared darker and more impenetrable than by day. Before being
swallowed by the waiting jungle, James twisted his face over his
shoulder toward her. A jolt of horror caught in her chest as her eyes
met his distorted glare, crammed with such naked hatred it caused her to
miss her stride. Her foot slammed into the opaque, motionless waters of
the rice field, submerging her ankle and interrupting her essential
flight.
As
she righted her balance—shrugging the ancient rucksack higher onto her
shoulders—even in her panicked state she caught a glimpse of bleeding
crimson fingers slice through the thick hessian material. She slowed
again, losing vital seconds.
“Run!” His voice was muffled now, cocooned in the density of the steaming jungle, smothered by the night cries of its residents.
She
shot into the canopy of the palm and Intaran trees, her body enveloped
by the cloying gloom and chest-high bamboo, gulping moist air into her
lungs.
No
sign of James, but her senses screamed she was not alone. Her forearms
prickled, their dark hairs erect, and her hairline tingled. She ditched
the blood-soaked rucksack onto the jungle floor, strewn thick with
nature’s detritus, and sprinted into its crowded depths like a fleeing
gazelle. Her speed slackened as the thick, dangling roots of the banyan
trees snaked across her path and bamboo leaves slapped at her face.
As
her peripheral vision recorded a sleek flash of amber and black,
treasured memories began to flash through her mind’s eye and she knew
she was about to die without the necessary satisfaction of knowing why.
She
tumbled backward with the force of the blow and an intense, blinding
agony permeated each and every nerve ending before blackness engulfed
her questions.
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