Annie's Song by Anita Dawes ➱ Book Tour with Giveaway

Annie's Song

by Anita Dawes

Genre: Disturbing Family Drama 

Family or Freedom, which would you choose?

Life in the backwoods of Virginia at the turn of the century was perfect, until Annie discovers a nasty family secret.

Something her family have been doing for years.

She knows she cannot live like this but her protests fall on deaf ears.

Her struggle to change everything only makes her life so much worse. forcing her to try and escape...

Annie's song echoes through the mountains,

her sorrow falls with every drop of rain.

Pieces of her heart lie scattered throughout the forest.

Will her footsteps lead her to the freedom she seeks?

Goodreads * Amazon

 Annie’s Song Excerpts

I remembered when Ma took us up into the hills to see her folks; I’d seen the kind of girls she was talking about. Some of them were younger than me but looked twice Ma’s age. No way was that going to happen to me, I was glad Pa had moved to the valley. I didn’t like the hill folk; most of them looked like Pa’s wood carvings, all old and wrinkled, their skin polished and shiny like they’d been varnished. Even the young’uns, as Ma called them, could do with a good scrub.
Everything around that place was filthy, but it didn’t seem to bother Ma none, she made herself right at home. There were far too many cousins for my liking and most of them had bad breath as well as bad manners. I couldn’t understand why Ma wanted to go up there, I tried to tell myself they couldn’t possibly be Ma’s people. They spoke funny and I couldn’t understand half of what they were saying, but Ma slipped into it real easy.
When it came time to eat, I thought I would throw up right in front of them. There was nothing I could recognise on the plate. Ma told me to eat up or they’d be offended. How could she ask me to eat it? Better they be offended than for me to die of God knows what.
Nathan was already eating, but it was no more than I expected. He was as weird as them and probably belonged up there. I looked at the hog swill on the cracked plate in front of me and could feel the tears pushing at the back of my eyes. The room was dark and smoky; there was no knowing what I might be eating. I couldn’t do it.
Ma shoved a stained spoon in my hand, ‘Go on honey, try it. Do it for me.’
I slowly shook my head and the tears fell on the table, disturbing the dust that lay there. Didn’t they ever clean anything? They were all waiting, waiting for me to take a mouthful like it meant something special. I looked up at their faces. Seth and Samuel, the older ones, were ignoring me but the two younger boys, Billy and Daniel were grinning at me with their blackened teeth. Just when I thought I couldn’t bear it a minute longer; Nathan pulled the plate away from me and scraped the mess onto his plate.
‘She don’t eat more than a sparrow’s worth anyhow.’ he said, dark eyes smiling at me.
Ma tucked into the food on her plate like it was best Sunday dinner and it was like a signal for all the others to start eating. I decided Nathan wasn’t so bad after all, that was the nicest thing he’d ever done for me.

************************************

Pa and Nathan left in the truck and it was another hour before they brought Josh’s body home. I know it don’t seem right to say it, but I wasn’t feeling sad that he was dead. Just worried as to how he got that way. Josh was no fool. He knew how to bring a tree down without killing himself.
Watching the truck coming towards us seemed to take forever, like Pa was going deliberately slow. We waited for Pa to get out of the truck and I could see from his dirt streaked face it weren’t good. Nathan’s face looked worse.
Ma tried to stop me running to the truck but couldn’t hold me. I climbed on the back and didn’t see Nathan getting out. Suddenly he was there beside me. I remember kneeling and touching the blue check shirt that covered Josh’s face. I remember the touch of Nathan’s hand on mine and the gentle way he said, ‘Don’t look, Annie please. Just let Pa bury him.’
I had to see for myself, had to know if it was the tree falling on him that killed him. My eyes were wet, but the tears wouldn’t fall. I pulled the shirt back and a scream tore at my throat, trying to find a way out. No sound came as I looked at what was left of his face, dark gaping holes looking back at me. Gone were his blue grey eyes, the very thing I liked most about him had been gouged away.
His face was scratched and torn and bloody. Dried blood matted his hair and dead leaves stuck to him. Nathan tried to take me away, saying I’d seen enough. I felt myself being lifted slowly from my knees, and as Nathan carried me away, and that’s when my brain registered what it had seen. The torn flesh on his face hadn’t been caused by the fall. The skin standing away from the bone and the dried blood made it hard to read, that’s why my mind didn’t see it right off. They’d cut Pa’s name down one side of his face, as if taking his eyes weren’t enough. The scream that wouldn’t come before finally broke and shut down my brain like an axe blow.
Pa climbed on the truck and covered Josh before Ma could see him. Lifting the body, he carried him to the barn like a baby. We buried him under the big old tree at the back of the barn. We all stood there not saying a word and I closed my eyes. I could still see him and was sorry I hated him most of the time. Ma’s eyes were red from crying, I heard her whisper, ‘Goodbye, Josh,’ before she turned and went back to the cabin.
Nathan followed her, but Pa stood a while longer before leaving me there to say my own farewell. There weren’t much to say and no one to tell of his going. I smoothed the ground where he lay and wrote his name in the freshly turned earth, knowing there’d be no marker and the grass would soon grow again and cover him like a blanket.

****************************
I turned over on my back and the grass felt cold beneath me. Long fingers of sunlight reached through the canopy of leaves and tried their best to warm the ground where I lay. I wished I could stay there forever with the brook whispering its secrets to me as it washed across the pebbles on its way to the river. The tall trees danced in the breeze, spreading their branches so I could see patches of blue sky and fluffy white clouds that changed the rays of sunlight each time they swam past my eyes. I’d heard the town folk say it was too quiet here in the woods, but they must have their ears on back to front. If you lay real still you could hear all the animals going about their business.
I remembered being here with Pa when I was younger; he taught me things most folk don’t even think about. He’d tease me sometimes and tell me that if I held my breath, I could even hear the grass grow. I’d hold it until my head felt it would burst, but I never did hear it. I tried many times before I gave up; figuring Pa was just making fun.
He’d bring me here in the dead of night and Ma would say she wanted me to be a lady, that I didn’t need the kind of stuff he put in my head. Pa swung me up on his shoulders and Ma would pull the kind of face that said she wished she was strong enough to wallop him.
His shoulders were strong and made me feel like nothing in the whole world could ever hurt me. Pa would smile at Ma and tell her, ‘It don’t do no harm her knowing about the world she lives in, Ruby. We each gotta get along and that means the animals too. There aint no better way to do that, than know how they live.’
If only Ma had come with us, she’d know how good he was with the animals. They would come right up for us to touch. Once I got real close to a fawn before its mama came looking for it. He told me to keep real still.
‘She’ll know that you mean her young’un no harm.’
I did like he said, and the mama deer came so close I could feel her breath on my face. It was real hot and smelled kinda funny. Ma missed all the magic, but I didn’t care, I liked having Pa all to myself. He made the woods a special place, especially at night when the moon was the only light and you could see all the animals that hid from the sun. Most folk think it’s only the bats that come out at night, but it’s not so. There’s skunks and racoons, all kinds of critters.
I held my breath one last time, hoping it was like Pa said and you really could hear the grass grow, then I’d know the magic was still there. My ears buzzed and my head swam but I couldn’t hear it. I let my breath out and it echoed in my ears. Maybe I didn’t believe, but it didn’t matter anymore. I felt different about a lot of things. Ma said it was because I was getting older.

****************************

We’d gone halfway around the barn and Nathan was pushing at each plank in turn, but nothing was loose so far. I told him to try the window.
‘It’s shut tighter than a fish’s arse! Why you so fired up about getting in there anyway?’
‘I want to know why Pa don’t want me looking at it, he’s never minded before.’
‘You think Pa’s up to no good, don’t you Annie? You been listening to them old hags in town, you know they mostly got it in for Pa because of the way Ma carries on.’
‘It aint nothing to do with them, I gotta see for myself. Stop gabbing and give me a hand, I found one.’
I leant the plank against the side of the barn and started tugging at the next one. Nathan pulled it free and I tried the hole for size. It was a bit of a squeeze, but I got through and Nathan followed me. Pa had the window covered with an old rag, but I couldn’t risk taking it down. Nathan was carrying on about the smell and how it was too dark to see straight, but I kinda liked the way it smelled. Fresh cut wood, linseed oil and the dyes Pa used all reminded me of the woods. Most of it came from there and Pa said it was better than store-bought stuff.
Nathan moaned every time he bumped into something. I told him to hush up before Ma heard him. ‘Stay put and I’ll let some light in, Ma can’t see the side window from the cabin.’
I pushed the rag up and tucked it over the top of the window and the light fell right onto Pa’s workbench. It was the first time Nathan had seen it and Pa’s new carving must have scared him. He went on about Pa catching us.
I looked at it for a good long time before I touched it. It didn’t feel right, not the way wood usually feels. It weren’t smooth to the touch like most of Pa’s work. It was black as a night with no moon, all wrinkled like dead snakeskin. Tiny black faces stared back at me. Some were almost hidden by the twisted branches that wrapped around the whole thing.
I asked myself why Pa would want to make something so ugly. I couldn’t get Nathan to touch it. I wanted to know what he thought it felt like, but he wouldn’t do it. He just wanted to get out of there, like he thought Pa would jump out at him from one of the dark corners. ‘Aint you seen enough, Annie? You done looked at it already, come on!’
‘Hush up, I want to look around.’ I made sure not to move things too much. Pa sure did have a heap of junk in there.
‘What you looking for, Annie, dead bodies?’
‘Don’t know, maybe.’
That must have done something for he squeezed out through the hole and said, ‘If you aint out of there by the time I count ten, I’m gonna put the planks back and leave you in there for Pa to find.’
He started counting.
I took no notice until he put the plank back up, banging it in place with his fist. I pulled the rag down over the window and pushed the plank aside before he could slam it home.

**************************

Me and My Books

Hello Anita, tell us about yourself and the books you have written?
I seem to have written a lot books, there are five currently on Amazon and one in the pipeline, but several have been lost over the years due to technical malfunctions and situations beyond my control. Like some of my favourite authors, I tend to write in several genres and don’t really have a favourite. I would love to write something deep and meaningful, something that would change my world, but it hasn’t happened yet.
When did you write your first book?
I wrote my first book in 1991, during a time of extreme stress in my life. I needed something to occupy my mind and found myself picking up a pencil.
How long did it take to write your first book?
It didn’t seem to take long at all. I discovered a passion I didn’t know I had, and the story was finished in no time.
What was your motivation to write?
I never thought about this before, but I must be one of those natural writers, for it has never presented any problems for me. I love to write, even on those days when I decide to bin a story because it doesn’t work. I know the next one will probably be better.
What writing issues did you encounter along the way and how did you overcome them?
People often ask me how I write, whether I use a storyboard to keep track of things, but the truth is I have never needed to do this. My sister, Jaye Marie has to work this way, but every detail stays in my head. Now that I am so much older, it occurs to me that my memory might start to let me down, but fingers crossed, so far it hasn’t.
I have one major issue, I refuse to go anywhere near a computer. I know that if I did, I would probably smash it to bits! Computers are evil things and not conducive to the art of writing. I write on paper, it feels more natural, and leave all the transcribing, editing and formatting to my sister, who has the patience of a saint.
Did you go through any bad writing patches during writing your books-what kept you going?
Luckily, I don’t have bad writing patches. I do have times of ‘procrastination’, or thinking time, as I prefer to call it.
Are you a plotter or do you just write and see what happens?
Over the years, I have discovered much to my amusement that I am not really a writer at all, not in the usual sense of the word. The writing only happens when the voices in my head demand it. The days when they remain quiet, I read. No argument from me there.
What is the best thing about being a writer?
I love to write. I love to read too and think these things are synonymous - you can’t really have one without the other.
What is the worst thing about being a writer?
In the 25 years I have been writing, I can honestly say there haven’t been any bad bits. Plenty of these in my life, but never in my writing.
Have you ever considered quitting writing and if so how have you worked through this?
I have lost count of the number of times I have wanted to quit. Every time life throws me a curve ball, it’s all I can do to try and dodge it and writing is the last thing I want to do. A certain amount of peace is required, I find. But I am still here, pencil in hand!
What does a typical writing day look like for you?
Sorry, but I don’t do ‘typical’. Normal is a word you would never use about me. Crazy or mad fits me better, for sometimes I just write snippets during the day, then stay up all night writing, just to keep the flow going.
Do you suffer from procrastination and if so how do you handle it?
As I mentioned before, I don’t do procrastination in the normal sense. I prefer to say I think a lot.
Which is more important – plot or characters and why?
You must have both characters and plot; they don’t really exist without each other, do they?
What have been your three biggest learnings during your writing career?
• That you have to wait until the story comes to you.
• The characters write the book, not you.
• You need far more patience than you will ever have.
How do you manage social media as a writer?
Now, this is where I am the luckiest woman on the planet. Apart from chatting to friends or topics I want to talk about, or ideas for blog posts, I do very little in the way of routine marketing and promotion. Jaye has all the bases covered, which is just as well, for it all sounds insane to me.
Do you have any tips or advice for budding aspiring authors?
The only important advice I would give to authors starting out, would be to keep it real. Don’t copy or imitate anything. Find what works for you, both in your writing and your life.
Do you suffer from writer’s block and if so how do you overcome?
Whenever I am feeling under the weather, there seems to be some kind of block, but that’s probably a good thing. It never lasts long anyway.
Do you ever think of the next book whilst writing?
Always. I try not to, but very often, there’s a great idea waiting in the wings, waving its arms about like a crazy person. Oops, that would be me!
What do you wear to write?

This question amused me, as it is something I have never thought about. Whatever I happen to be wearing at the time I suppose, unless I’m writing in bed (it does happen) then, like Marilyn Monroe, all I am wearing is a smile and Chanel no.5…

Anita Dawes loves all things esoteric, magical and the otherworldly and would prefer to live in a fairy tale. In between these moments, she likes to visit old churches and ancient buildings.

She has written six fiction novels in various genres, Bad Moon, Simple, Secrets, The Scarlet Ribbon; Let it Go and Not My Life. Presently working on a sequel to her popular supernatural romance, The Scarlet Ribbon.

Anita has recently rediscovered her childhood love of poetry and often writes and posts them online.

Owned by an egocentric black and white cat called Merlin, named after her favourite hero, Anita dislikes computers and prefers to writes longhand, sharing a website http://jenanita01.com with Jaye Marie, who transcribes and edits her work...

Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

$20 Amazon

#BookTour #Giveaway

#Disturbing #Family #Drama #Powerful #AnniesSong #anitadawes

@doubletrouble44