STAIN (My Soul To Wake Book 1) Read Online Free Page A
Author: Tara Oakes
single one of them asks for a second and you dodge them. And I know before you ditched Paul that he was actually planning on having you meet his parents.”
I feel the need to defend myself against my friend’s half-serious accusations. “Maybe I’d accept a second date if any of them were- I don’t know… worth it , I guess. And Paul would introduce a hooker to his parents if she’d agree. As for the coffee shop, I never said I wasn’t happy there. I just wish mom and dad would actually let me change things. Until then, I’m a glorified barista.”
“All the more reason to see what a psychic has to say. I’ll bet she’ll tell you what a whiz you’ll be at franchising the place. And as for the guys… maybe she’ll tell you how to meet a guy who’s worth it.”
I throw a handful of yellow candies toward my throat.
“If it will get you off my back about it then I’ll gladly throw away fifty dollars. But if she starts telling me about how colorful my aura is, I’m outta there.”
~*~
As we move further and further north, visible changes begin to take place. The houses take on a uniformed historical appearance, each colored in hues only seen in old New England.
The royal blues and canary yellows are rich and vibrant yet, at the same time, muted and subdued. The architecture has an air of Quaker nobility to it, and I find myself studying each of the homes in passing.
The well-manicured residential streets are lined with ancient trees, filled with hearty leaves and blossoming buds. The season hasn’t yet reached the overly-warm temperatures that precede summer, so all of the greenery looks vibrant, young, and full of life.
Although our hometown is close to the water and I’m used to the humid consistency that follows it, I somehow feel a different weight to the air around me now. I can smell the salt water of the eastern seaboard and feel the thick breeze as it passes, knowing that it’s carried in by the gentle waves nearby. Waves that have traveled long and far, carrying the invisible gifts from far away lands. I can’t place my finger on exactly how this air is different, I just sit back, close my eyes and breath it in, feeling as if I’m nourishing my lungs, my body with some level of oxygenated sky that it’s been lacking.
I feel the early afternoon sun bathe my skin with its light and soak it in, as if willing my pores to open further to drink in the rich glow. I feel those same rays heat my body with their warmth, and I lazily reach my fingertips to pull at the light gauzy neck scarf to bare more of my skin. I’m urged to somehow free every bit of flesh available, to absorb as much of this penetrating brightness as possible.
I need it, need to collect it, in some way deep down as if I’ll be able to access it again when I need to feel the peace it allows me. A calmness washes over me like lapping water, almost in sync with the gentle currents pushing the water ashore.
My heart begins to pace itself, matching the movements of the imaginary tide. They become joined, each as much of the other as they are of themselves. I can feel the blood coursing through my body from each beat of my heart, thinning almost, matching the sea water that flows so easily with each swell of the Atlantic.
The washing sounds of the waves are interrupted by the cawing of seagulls and land birds swirling. I can feel the swishing air among their feathered wings, giving flight to their fancy. The essence of their nature calls to one another as they dip low in the sky and soar high into the wispy clouds.
I feel the wind on my face now, as if I’m gliding alongside them, basking in the blinding rays of sun that light my way. I am weightless, supported only by the passing air above, beneath, and around me, as I push on faster and faster.
The rippled water below is glittered with jeweled flecks of light, dancing and sparkling, alive with movement. Their riches sing to me, and I need only to hear them. I
I feel the need to defend myself against my friend’s half-serious accusations. “Maybe I’d accept a second date if any of them were- I don’t know… worth it , I guess. And Paul would introduce a hooker to his parents if she’d agree. As for the coffee shop, I never said I wasn’t happy there. I just wish mom and dad would actually let me change things. Until then, I’m a glorified barista.”
“All the more reason to see what a psychic has to say. I’ll bet she’ll tell you what a whiz you’ll be at franchising the place. And as for the guys… maybe she’ll tell you how to meet a guy who’s worth it.”
I throw a handful of yellow candies toward my throat.
“If it will get you off my back about it then I’ll gladly throw away fifty dollars. But if she starts telling me about how colorful my aura is, I’m outta there.”
~*~
As we move further and further north, visible changes begin to take place. The houses take on a uniformed historical appearance, each colored in hues only seen in old New England.
The royal blues and canary yellows are rich and vibrant yet, at the same time, muted and subdued. The architecture has an air of Quaker nobility to it, and I find myself studying each of the homes in passing.
The well-manicured residential streets are lined with ancient trees, filled with hearty leaves and blossoming buds. The season hasn’t yet reached the overly-warm temperatures that precede summer, so all of the greenery looks vibrant, young, and full of life.
Although our hometown is close to the water and I’m used to the humid consistency that follows it, I somehow feel a different weight to the air around me now. I can smell the salt water of the eastern seaboard and feel the thick breeze as it passes, knowing that it’s carried in by the gentle waves nearby. Waves that have traveled long and far, carrying the invisible gifts from far away lands. I can’t place my finger on exactly how this air is different, I just sit back, close my eyes and breath it in, feeling as if I’m nourishing my lungs, my body with some level of oxygenated sky that it’s been lacking.
I feel the early afternoon sun bathe my skin with its light and soak it in, as if willing my pores to open further to drink in the rich glow. I feel those same rays heat my body with their warmth, and I lazily reach my fingertips to pull at the light gauzy neck scarf to bare more of my skin. I’m urged to somehow free every bit of flesh available, to absorb as much of this penetrating brightness as possible.
I need it, need to collect it, in some way deep down as if I’ll be able to access it again when I need to feel the peace it allows me. A calmness washes over me like lapping water, almost in sync with the gentle currents pushing the water ashore.
My heart begins to pace itself, matching the movements of the imaginary tide. They become joined, each as much of the other as they are of themselves. I can feel the blood coursing through my body from each beat of my heart, thinning almost, matching the sea water that flows so easily with each swell of the Atlantic.
The washing sounds of the waves are interrupted by the cawing of seagulls and land birds swirling. I can feel the swishing air among their feathered wings, giving flight to their fancy. The essence of their nature calls to one another as they dip low in the sky and soar high into the wispy clouds.
I feel the wind on my face now, as if I’m gliding alongside them, basking in the blinding rays of sun that light my way. I am weightless, supported only by the passing air above, beneath, and around me, as I push on faster and faster.
The rippled water below is glittered with jeweled flecks of light, dancing and sparkling, alive with movement. Their riches sing to me, and I need only to hear them. I
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