The Protector of Memories (The Veil of Death Book 1) by D. K. Manning

lived and died and Hope still hadn’t grasped the meaning behind her Mother’s words. “Have I lost my sensibility?” Hope questioned.
    She stood up, brushed the dust from the knees of her jeans and rubbed her hands over her mouth. She stared down at the wording for a little while longer before continuing her search.
    Over the next ten minutes, Hope had managed to find a metal pole and tear away the wood from a small window situated in the courtyard. She was back inside her home, standing behind the wooden counter, listening to the sounds of its silence.
    But coldness weaved itself into Hope’s denim jacket.
    She shivered and bounding up the stairs, she ventured into the kitchen, tripped over a bucket - mud and rain water spilled out and seeped into the floorboards - but her attention was focussed on the fridge in the corner. Shuffling it away from the wall until it was far enough to get behind she worked loose the bricks, swept the rolls of money out from the hole and into her rucksack.
    Hope then went into the bathroom, prised up the floorboards, collected up what was the last of the money that Charity had given to her and put that into the rucksack. She stood and listened again to the silence of the building… eerie and cold.
    Rushing down the stairs and into the room that should always be filled with nothing but the sounds of life, laughter and merriment - this too was silent… silent and cold; dark and dingy.
    Something ran across her foot. “Fear not little one,” she said to the furry creature. “There is enough food on these floors to keep you and your family going for a long while yet_”
    A creaking noise sounded out and when Hope looked up at the ceiling she saw that one of the wooden beams was bending as if it were but a paper straw? Splinters of wood flew about as the wood continued to bend to its breaking point. One of the splinters pierced into Hope’s left eye. She cried out in pain at the fiery burning sensation her eyeball was consumed within and instinctively covered her eye with her hand.
    Another noise sounded out and Hope turned toward the windows that ran the length of the wall – the glass shattered and shards of glass cascaded out and around her. She managed to duck down before any further damage was done to her skin.
    Lumps of plaster started to fall from the ceiling and onto Hope’s head.
    More of the wooden beams creaked and groaned and when Hope looked up through her good eye, she realised the roof was about to cave in.
    She ran toward the back of the room; through the small gap that she had prised the boarding away from and stood in the middle of the road watching the billowing cloud of yellow smoke and red dust.
    An explosion of brick, concrete and wood shot up into the air and fell back down into the building.
    The home that she had been standing within was nothing but a pile of rubble, glass and wood.
    Hope laughed gently at the craziness of the world and decided that it wasn’t any different to the chaos that occurred within the Universe.
    She raised her hip-flask high into the air. “A toast!” she shouted, “A toast to this life!” And after taking a decent swig, she offered it to the woman who stood next to her.
    When the woman declined the offer Hope shared instead the conclusion that she had arrived at. “Your mortality is no different to our immortality… shorter of course - but no different.”
    Sarah stared at the woman who was clearly drunk; one of her eyes was swollen and her face was streaked with blood, dust and muck. “You’re one of them squatters.” She said in disgust.
    “I am Hope.” Hope said and squeezed gently the woman’s shoulder.
    Sarah backed away, “Don’t you touch me you filthy drunk.”
    Hope stared after the woman whose auras mirrored what had flickered in her eyes; hatred… scorn? “You know me not?” She said and stood staring long after the woman had gone.
    “To the park,” Hope whispered and when she got there she sought out the