Scarlett and the Soul Thief is the first tale I ever told my author friend Annie, and I don’t mind saying she sat as quiet as a mouse while I waffled on and on about my God-daughter Scarlett, her friend (or as Scarlett puts it, her frenemy) Jemima, gut-churning Witches’ flying on staffs’ made of ice, thrones of real tears, portals in this very land that would take you to the world of The Shade (my homeland) and a Soul Thief with a conscience. I know…a story such as this is enough to send anyone to sleep – who needs a sleeping charm slipped in a slice of chocolate cake when you have Freda’s dull stories?
Heaven knows why anyone would find it interesting but I talked and she scribbled, typed, laughed and cried until at one point I thought I was going to have to give the girl a knock around the head to snap her out of it. So she wrote it all down and now it is a book. Me…Freda, with a book! Alright, so the girl did all the writing but I told the tale and that’s what counts. And anyone who says otherwise will be soon fettled with the sharp end of my wand.
Annie tells me of a kind of sorcery in this land, where the poor books are imprisoned in a deathly state by a wizard known only as the Amazon. In order to free the book from the Amazon, the reader must put a spell into a magic tablet and one of the books can then be freed and sent to your magic tablet, where you can let it whisper its secrets to you and come alive once more.
The Amazon wizard has not yet imprisoned the book, but Annie feels she cannot keep it from him for much longer. He calls to her and tells her that the time is near. If you would like to let ‘Scarlett and the Soul Thief’ breathe again, please scribe me your intentions and I shall make sure you are one of the first to hear it whisper.