Skip to content

RETREAT

Last updated on April 10, 2022

๐…๐ซ๐จ๐ฆ ๐ญ๐ก๐ž ๐š๐ฎ๐ญ๐ก๐จ๐ซ ๐ญ๐ก๐š๐ญ ๐ ๐š๐ฏ๐ž ๐ฒ๐จ๐ฎ ๐“๐ก๐ž ๐“๐ก๐ข๐ซ๐ ๐–๐ก๐ž๐ž๐ฅ ๐š๐ง๐ ๐€ ๐Œ๐š๐ง ๐’๐œ๐จ๐ซ๐ง๐ž๐, ๐œ๐จ๐ฆ๐ž๐ฌ ๐š๐ง๐จ๐ญ๐ก๐ž๐ซ ๐ฆ๐ข๐ง๐-๐›๐จ๐ ๐ ๐ฅ๐ข๐ง๐  ๐ฉ๐ฌ๐ฒ๐œ๐ก๐จ๐ฅ๐จ๐ ๐ข๐œ๐š๐ฅ ๐ญ๐ก๐ซ๐ข๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ž๐ซ ๐ฌ๐ž๐ญ ๐š๐ ๐š๐ข๐ง๐ฌ๐ญ ๐ญ๐ก๐ž ๐›๐š๐œ๐ค๐๐ซ๐จ๐ฉ ๐จ๐Ÿ ๐ญ๐ก๐ž ๐’๐จ๐ฎ๐ญ๐ก ๐€๐Ÿ๐ซ๐ข๐œ๐š๐ง ๐ƒ๐ซ๐š๐ค๐ž๐ง๐ฌ๐›๐ž๐ซ๐  ๐Œ๐จ๐ฎ๐ง๐ญ๐š๐ข๐ง๐ฌ.

Fresh off the reviews of her book, Author Isobel Fields decides to go on a week long retreat to a cabin in the mountains.

It’s the best place to complete the follow up to her hit debut novel. It’s quiet. It’s Isolated. It’s homey. She’s excited to be all on her own. Undisturbed…

Or so she thinks.

What happens when you are thousands of miles away from home with no cell service?

What happens when the cabin you are staying in has a dark history?

What happens when you are not the only one scheduled to stay in that cabin?

Most importantly, what lengths would you go to for the perfect story?

In her quest to find inspiration, Isobel may get more than she bargained for.

*๐™๐™€๐™๐™๐™€๐˜ผ๐™ ๐™ž๐™จ ๐™– ๐™™๐™–๐™ง๐™  ๐™ฅ๐™จ๐™ฎ๐™˜๐™๐™ค๐™ก๐™ค๐™œ๐™ž๐™˜๐™–๐™ก ๐™ฉ๐™๐™ง๐™ž๐™ก๐™ก๐™š๐™ง ๐™ฌ๐™ž๐™ฉ๐™ ๐™ฉ๐™๐™š๐™ข๐™š๐™จ ๐™ฉ๐™๐™–๐™ฉ ๐™ข๐™–๐™ฎ ๐™™๐™ž๐™จ๐™ฉ๐™ช๐™ง๐™— ๐™จ๐™ค๐™ข๐™š ๐™ง๐™š๐™–๐™™๐™š๐™ง๐™จ.*

๐‡๐ž๐ซ๐ž’๐ฌ ๐ฒ๐จ๐ฎ๐ซ ๐Ÿ๐ข๐ซ๐ฌ๐ญ ๐ฅ๐จ๐จ๐ค ๐š๐ญ ๐‘๐„๐“๐‘๐„๐€๐“ ๐š๐ฌ ๐ฐ๐ž๐ฅ๐ฅ ๐š๐ฌ ๐š ๐ง๐ž๐ฐ ๐ฅ๐จ๐จ๐ค ๐ญ๐จ ๐ญ๐ก๐ž ๐œ๐จ๐ฏ๐ž๐ซ!!!

๐‘๐ž๐ฅ๐ž๐š๐ฌ๐ข๐ง๐  ๐จ๐ง ๐Ÿ” ๐Œ๐š๐ซ๐œ๐ก ๐Ÿ๐ŸŽ๐Ÿ๐ŸŽ!

***I am still giving out eARCs for those interesting in reading and reviewing***

Could hearts cry? If they could, mine would weep.

I draw in his scent, looking up into those storm grey eyes as he strokes my hair.

โ€œThank you,โ€ I whisper.

โ€œYouโ€™re welcome,โ€ he answers.

He takes my hands and wraps it around the handle of the weapon.

Tears stream down my face as he raises it high enough to bring it down hard.

I feel the blade slice into my stomach. It is seamless. As if a hot knife were sliding through a brick of butter.

She told me this would happen. She told me I was making a mistake falling in love with the wrong person.

It was too late now, I stare into the eyes of the man I loved and let my tears fall freely as the blood begins to pour out of my stomach.

I stumble away from him. My skin immediately feels lost at the disappearance of his touch. โ€œI-I need toโ€ฆโ€

He nods. โ€œGo.โ€

I try to walk, but thereโ€™s no way that I can. Collapsing in a bloody heap, I drag myself across the floor. The blood helps me slide towards the laptop.

There is just the ending left. I need to finish that last paragraph. The paragraph where it all made sense. I could taste the best-selling spot already. 

I need to be quick about it, I need to write that ending. This is it. This is the masterpiece I had been searching for.

At any moment, heโ€™s going to come down with that fatal blow. That was our deal after all. After I told his story, I was no longer aloud to live. I knew too much.

I clutch my stomach, the squishing sound of my palm landing on my bloody bare flesh echoes in the room. I ignore the pain and continue sliding to the couch. I canโ€™t sit up, and I know he wonโ€™t help me.

I lift my upper body even as I feel the damage that I am doing to it. I reach up and my bloody fingers touch the keyboard. I sigh in triumph.

My fingers tap away at the keys, slipping on the blood covering the letters on the keyboard completely. My vision is hazy and Iโ€™m sure Iโ€™m about to succumb to my injuries within a few minutes. My eyes close against my will and try to open them again.

You can do this, come on! the voice echoes in my head.

For many days, the voice was silent as I wrote, he kept it at bay. Now though, I had no strength to keep up my walls. I tapped away for what seemed like hours but was a few minutes or so. I was just one paragraph away from completing the book.

I could do this. The voice was right, I could.

Thereโ€™s a bang at the door and I look up sluggishly.

Someone is here, you donโ€™t have much time, ISOBEL!!!

I sigh. โ€œL-let me finishโ€ฆโ€

โ€œGood guys finish last, Isobel,โ€ Abel laughs sadly as he reaches down and digs his fingers into my wound. โ€œAnd despite what you tell yourself, I am not the good guy.โ€

I scream and feel my arms being pulled away from the keyboard, but not before I hit send on the email. I watch as one of the many oil lanterns we had all around the cabin, crashes and bursts into pieces. The oil creating a trail of flames along the wooden floor.

I grin, my mouth full of blood as I look up at the hazy figure above me.

โ€œThe end.โ€

Copyright@YajnaRamnath2021

Published inUncategorized

Be First to Comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.