Alice Walker Novels & Stories

It's almost been a year and yet I couldn't find a clue of where she is, and what makes my search harder is Rachel is a loner and secretive person, in many ways she is like me. Except for the fact that she is loud and quirky which is quite opposite of what I'm, but staying away from her made me realize one thing that I haven't realized working with her for years. That her smile and attitude are just a mask that she puts on to hide the true feeling in her heart. Her smile is nothing but a shield that she uses to protect herself from suffering, but that day with alcohol in her system she is finally able to show the pain, the thoughts the feeling she has been hiding for years, and that was the l

"Well, sort of. I can see flashes of images and feel the emotions that go along with them. Especially if they're catastrophic. And if you've been doing this as long as me, you start getting good at deciphering the pieces of a story." "Okay," Brad says, "So, you think Candice used to be the girl Atticus killed himself over?" "Without a doubt," Mrs. Stephens says. "Her name was Josephine."

"I don't even know what that means." “Don't worry about it." Amanda shakes her brunette tresses about and adds, "Leave it to me." With a twirl of her hand, she indicates she has everything under control. Amanda once again scoots off the desk and turns with her hand on the edge of the cubicle. "And I want to hear all about this date and Jack's beanstalk."

It smelled delicious, but everything she cooks smells fantastic. “Thank you, Mrs. Carmichael,” I nodded to her as she filled the glasses with water. “You are most welcome, Alpha,” she smiled softly. Mrs. Carmichael was a grandmother-like figure around the pack, especially here in the packhouse. When he was a boy, she was my father’s nanny, helping his mother, Luna Jessica, keep him out of trouble.

And the silence, that spoke louder than any word would have. I slowed as I stepped onto the porch. She was there before I spoke, standing with a mug wrapped in both hands like a talisman. Hair pulled back, plain dress, face that could have belonged to any woman on a quiet morning, except for the eyes. Storm gray, steady, and old in a way that made the air around them feel colder. “Lisa D’Amaris?” I kept my voice level. Alpha’s men learn to do that; it makes the rest easier.

A few hours ago I'm Alice Clark. I'm twenty and have been working as a maid for the Wilson family since my mother died a year ago. Accepting my mother's death and then beginning to work as a maid to settle my mother's debt to the Wilson family were the most strenuous days of my life. I had no option but to work as a maid at this mansion.

The Devotion Pack has been almost empty, after the Alpha disappeared, and rumours of Phantom Wolves roaming around scared Pack members away. Adrian crosses him from the list. "How about Grayson?" I hesitate, lifting my head from where I was brushing lint off my jeans. Grayson? "Who's that again?" I ask. The name Grayson doesn't ring a bell in my head, which is strange, since I'm familiar with most Alphas. "Alpha of Freedom," Adrian informs me. No wonder. Shaking my head, I slip off the edge of the desk, and take the pen from Adrian's hand, proceeding to draw a thick red line over the name. My blonde haired assistant stares at me as I resume my spot.