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    The Name of Falyn Sweeney
    The Name of Falyn Sweeney
    The Name of Falyn Sweeney
    Ebook28 pages21 minutes

    The Name of Falyn Sweeney

    By Daniel Coleman

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    About this ebook

    One girl, the scion of generations, the last of a bloodline, so alone she doesn't even have a name.

    Another girl, disinherited for her beliefs but clinging tightly to her hope of a new life in a new land.

    And a hunter, determined to end a bloodline.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDaniel Coleman
    Release dateJan 13, 2018
    ISBN9780463373064
    The Name of Falyn Sweeney

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      Book preview

      The Name of Falyn Sweeney - Daniel Coleman

      1

      THE NAME OF FALYN SWEENEY

      Historian File # wx43ns5- 2

      Primary Subjects: Falyn Sweeney &c.

      Chronicle Duration: Saga

      The girl born as Falyn Sweeney peeked through eyelid slits so narrow, pale lashes hazed her view.

      You might say the real Falyn Sweeney. We’ll abstain from such subjective assessment.

      Content yourself that she was as real as the crumbs wedged into the table’s seams. As real as the pangs of hunger that Mrs. Lochridge’s saying of grace did nothing to assuage.

      A tine of my fork could coax out a crumb, she thought. But if she was caught interrupting grace she’d have to skip the meal altogether. Without food tonight she didn’t think she’d have the energy to reach the breakfast table.

      In our assessment, she was correct.

      Some of the Mormon preachers she’d met prayed so long her knees went numb. Compared to Mrs. Lochridge, they were novices. If sainthood was based on prayer length, Mrs. Lochridge would have entire orders of nunnery devoted to her. Using hunger as a unit of measurement, the woman droned through millennia.

      Tottering like a ship, Falyn forced her eyes closed.

      Mrs. Lochridge’s amen was drowned somewhere in a swoon, but the chorus of forty more amens brought Falyn around. Finally, fuel for her famished body. Mrs. Lochridge raised an arm to motion the serving girls in, and froze mid-motion when the front door opened.

      The new arrival had a name, but it was buried as deep as her ruined family’s mines. Fodder for a story another time.

      When the girl stepped into view of the dining area, Falyn understood the reason for Mrs. Lochridge’s distraction. Unlike the stained and faded clothing of every other girl or woman in the lodging house, the new lady wore clothes begrimed only

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