Iris has a secret. She lost her memory eight years ago and never told a living soul. After an asthma attack one night she finds out that her dreams of a strange house on a snowy island may be a memory resurfacing but the more she learns about the past the more she realizes the life she has been living is a lie. As the façade her father has built starts to crumble around her she will have to decide which means more to her; the truth or her life.
“I know, Izzy. I know,” Falcon said soothingly. As Iris slowly blinked her eyes open, they burned from the light of the lamp and she shut them again.
“Just rest your eyes. Drink this and then rest. Don’t worry about anything. I am here and I have you. I will protect you.”
“You always have,” Iris said softly and realized her throat burned. She tried to sip from the warm mug he put up to her lips but it made her throat hurt more. As the familiar harsh coughing began, Izzy realized she must have been intubated earlier, which meant that she had to have been lying down for hours for them to have been able to have taken it out so she could breathe on her own.
“Sleep, Izzy. Sleep, my sparrow.”
Falcon started to sing the song to her again and it softly lulled her to sleep.
Diana, without thinking, softly sang the true lyrics as he sang his own beloved fairy tale version.
“On a breeze from afar she flew to the Isle of White;
Forgetting her past and her stolen future lost in her endless flight;
Afraid and alone until she found the home of half of a boy.
Never knowing of his mother or her hurtful ploy;
The Sparrow found her other half in the Fairy Wren;
She found him once and always knew that she could find him again.
Her flying was done but her soul mate and she were kept apart.
They learned to live separate half lives,
While dreaming in the dark.
Hearts apart but always together as they both slept and dreamed;
Years apart to test their love to see if it was what it seemed.
Flying in the sky while never reaching anything but land;
Like a fallen bird caught in a human’s hand;
Lifting her feet from the ground while never letting herself leave;
Being forced to live a lie that no one believed.
Refusing to leave her broken Fairy Wren until finally love was found;
A sharp cry and a heartbreak as a song began to sound.
When the Fairy Wren found the Sparrow;
Finally together and never to part;
Always dreaming as they were lifted into the sky;
To fly into their future together as they died.
The Sparrow and the Fairy Wren.”
Emma Michaels’ Bio:
As the founder of The Writers Voice blog (http://OurBooksOurVoice.Blogspot.com) she loves to connect authors and readers. As a book blogger turned author, she was born and raised in Los Angeles, California, until she moved at eighteen to Washington State. Suddenly, the world was a new place filled with tall green trees that reached further for the sky with every moment, making her want to do the same. Ever since, she has tried to make her life something new and different from what it was before, pursuing her future career, setting high goals and reaching for them. With the support of her fiancé, Chihuahua, and her amazing blog followers and fellow bloggers, she wants to prove to the world that anything is possible and help inspire fellow literary lovers to reach for their dreams.
The walls were covered with images of birds. Iris moved closer and touched the paint. She realized it had all been painted by hand when she felt the layered textures and noticed certain sections that had chipped off over time. It must have taken ages to create this. She traced her fingers over the paintings – all different types of birds – though a number of them seemed to show up repeatedly every few feet. One was an eagle, one a hawk and then another bird she couldn’t quite recognize. It was white and black with long talons that looked both terrifying and feminine all at the same time and seemed to have been given the most detail of the three with beautiful curves and highlights use to create its feathers.
The floor was a dark cherry wood that matched the furniture around the room: bookshelves lining one wall with a desk in the center and a four-post bed with a sheer canopy over it that matched a nightstand sitting close by. The entire wall seemed like a story book, playing out scene by scene. Even the bookshelves had carvings on the outer frames, making it look like it was coming to life.
Everything about the room was so perfectly reflective of a unique individual that Iris felt like laughing and crying. She couldn’t help but be thrilled to be there but it also made her miss her mother because she had now become someone far more than just a character in Iris’ imagination. It made her a person that Iris could learn to love as someone other than the ideal image of a mother she’d created over time. This room…this house…made her human.
Looking at her room, seeing the bed she used to sleep in, the desk she wrote at and the same walls she used to see before she would go to sleep – all of it was so personal, so vivid and real. Somehow being in this room made Iris feel like she knew her mother, but it also brought up the many questions that were left unanswered.
Walking along the wall, Iris continued to trace her fingers over the paintings and the carved bookshelves.
This must have taken years to complete. It must have so much love put into it. It is just so beautiful. Why? Who did it? What is the story behind these paintings? Iris couldn’t stop the questions; suddenly, instead of feeling like she was getting closer Iris could only hear the multitude of questions race through her mind. Then her fingers hit cloth and she realized part of the wall she had been walking beside was covered with a curtain. It must be another window.
Opening the cloth she looked out on yet another breathtaking view. But unlike the perfect picture seen from the living room, this window also offered an apple – resting on the sill – that was just like the one Iris knew from her childhood; it was green around the rim – nearly a perfect match.
She let the curtain drop and put the apple on the nightstand.
He was in here.
Iris lay back on the bed and debated whether she should tell Diana about the handsome, smiling stranger or keep it to herself. The answer came quickly.
Not yet. Not until you remember.
I hope you enjoyed it, and if you want to find out more, you will just have to check out Owlet!
Release: October 13, 2012
Buy links go live on October 13, 2012. PDF buy link is live and available for pre-orders.
Kindle buy link – $2.99
Nook buy link – $4.95
iBookstore buy link – $4.99
Smashwords buy link – $4.99
PDF buy link – $4.95
complete listing of links for read along blog tour stops:
Owlet Twitter hashtag:#Owlet
Owlet GoodReads page:http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/14059271-owlet
Emma Michael’s Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/emma.michaels.90
Emma Michael’s Twitter:https://twitter.com/emmamichaels
Emma Michael’s Website:http://emmamichaels.com/
Emma Michael’s GoodReads:http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4104941.Emma_Michaels
Tribute Books website:http://www.tribute-books.com
Tribute Books Facebook:http://www.facebook.com/pages/Archbald-PA/Tribute-Books/171628704176
Tribute Books Twitter:http://www.twitter.com/TributeBooks