by Blythe Baker
My hand reached for the locket that was no longer around my neck, and when I found nothing there, my fingers instead brushed along my collar bone. I thought of the small scrap of paper I’d carried inside the locket for so long. Two words, scribbled in haste and faded with time: help me.
I leaned forward, placing my hand on the back of the front seat and smiled. “Yes, I’m ready.”
I only hoped the words were true. I hoped I was ready. Then, I whispered to the young boy who had written that message. “Only a little longer now.”
END OF EXCERPT
About the Author
Blythe Baker is a thirty-something bottle redhead from the South Central part of the country. When she’s not slinging words and creating new worlds and characters, she’s acting as chauffeur to her children and head groomer to her household of beloved pets.
Blythe enjoys long walks with her dog on sweaty days, grubbing in her flower garden, cooking, and ruthlessly de-cluttering her overcrowded home. She also likes binge-watching mystery shows on TV and burying herself in books about murder.
To learn more about Blythe, visit her website and sign up for her newsletter at www.blythebaker.com
