The Beast of Ashwood Manor by Jordan Lee EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Jordan Lee
- Language: English
- Genre: Science Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
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Tolburg was teeming with people, and I had to be the most out of place
one of them all. Not that I pitied myself by any means, but when I
arrived in the busy town a year ago, I imagined my life much differently:
full of excitement and new friends.
But that was then, and this was now.
Town life supposedly came with greater opportunities than anything I
could find in a small village like the one I was raised in, but I hadn’t really
found them yet. The hustle and bustle of Tolburg was more than what I was
used to after living in the countryside for so long, but after a year of living
here, I also found the town life to be bland. It didn’t help that I still looked
like a farm boy.
“Chase any pigs around today?” Mr. Porter, the butcher, laughed as I
walked by.
I gave him a tight smile, as always, and stood before the fruit stall,
twiddling with the moon charm around my neck as I looked over the apples.
A woman in a heavy looking dress walked by, and I couldn’t help but
notice how nice it looked. Dark colors were all the fashion these days, rich
hues of burgundy and black-and-white striped shirts beneath dark-colored
vests and trousers. I hadn’t yet earned enough money to buy myself
anything more suitable than what I had on: faded brown trousers, worn
boots, and a rather outdated vest over my cream-colored shirt.
“You getting anything or not?” the man behind the produce stall barked
at me.
I snapped to attention and glanced over the display of red, yellow, and
green apples. Greta, the tavern’s cook, would want the yellow apples for
pies. At least, that’s what I hoped.
Yellow is what she told me to get, wasn’t it? I can’t remember.
I’d always seen my mother bake pies with yellow apples and assumed the
same with Greta.
After packing a basketful, I paid for them and left. Along the path to the
tavern, I spotted a small whitish rock— a wonderful addition to my
collection. I picked it up and pocketed it before coming into the warm,
spacious kitchen of Leigh’s Tavern. I placed the basket down and set to
work peeling the fruit.
Greta came up and peered at me. When she eyed the apples, she smacked
me with her rag, making me flinch. “I said Granny Smith!” she barked.
“When are you going to listen to what I tell you to do?”
“I wasn’t sure if I heard you right,” I replied. “Gold Delicious is usually
the best for pies.”
“Says who?” Greta placed her hands on her hips and looked up at me, her
round nose pink and her plump cheeks flushed. “Next time I tell you
Granny Smith, you’d better get them, or I’ll make you leave the kitchen
with no leftovers!”
The memory of my mother and I going at least a month without much
food washed over me, and I could feel my stomach rumbling already at the
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