I’m an international, multiple award-winning author with a passion for the voices in my head. As a singer, songwriter, independent filmmaker and improv teacher and performer, my life has always been about creating and sharing what I create with others. Now that my dream to write for a living is a reality, with over a hundred titles in happy publication and no end in sight, I live in beautiful Prince Edward Island, Canada, with my giant cats, pug overlord and overlady and my Gypsy Vanner gelding, Fynn.

Début

The world struggles around It, a back and forth seesaw of demand and denial. It flops inside its box as the world spins, turned upside down. One of the shining, pearl-topped pins jabs Its leg. The pain is a shock. But It is unable to do anything about the agony. Gravity lets go and It floats for what seems an eternity before crashing into something hard.

The box remains intact, at least. Its home, Its safe haven.

Still, It has no fear, only confusion and need. Where is the girl in whose image It was created?

Silence. Darkness. Waiting.

All the while, the pin. And the pain. On and on forever.

Alice isn't popular. Alice isn't pretty. Alice isn't likable--at least, that's what she's been told most of her life. Moving to a new town hasn't helped any, not with her nasty brother torturing her almost daily and her too-cool, uber-popular cousin making her life miserable. When Alice finds an old doll in her grandmother's attic, she feels an unusual connection to it. She just can't bring herself to feel bad when horrible things start happening to the people who are cruel to her...

Pins and Needles

Alice stared at herself in the full-length mirror behind her mother's door, turning back and forth to admire her dress, the flow of the fabric.


   Even Betty glowed with happiness, stepping back from adjusting one of Alice's carefully-placed curls. She clasped her hands together and tucked them under her chin, gazing with wonder at her daughter.


"Alice," Betty said with awe in her voice, "you're beautiful."


For the first time in her life, Alice heard her mother say it. And believed it. She didn't need the doll, after all.


   Even the high heeled sandals felt comfortable on her feet, unaccustomed to such height.   Betty's brow furrowed slightly as her eyes fell to Alice's wrist. With one swift motion, her fingers snapped the red thread bracelet Rose had wound there.


   "Now you're perfect," Betty said, balling the thread in her fingers while Alice felt the shock of its loss like her mother had shattered something very valuable. Precious to Alice.


Chapter 37: Beautiful