The Girl With Her Head Sewn On Backwards
"In the beginning was a voice, soft like dry leaves scurrying across the yard, the sigh of elephant grass bowing to the worrisome wind out in the fields. At times it carried in the babble of water from the stream to the house, teasing her awake, soothing her to sleep. There was repetition, and words formed, words she couldn’t decipher. She was too young to know she was learning secrets to die for, or that death was the price to be paid."