Excerpt from my current novel in progress:

It wasn’t the dying trees that gave The Hollow its name, it was the woman who lived there. Some said the pond that her house sat atop was made of the souls of those that came to her for help, but others knew better. It was the remains of the Settings she performed, and the lives that were forever altered, that gave the pond its milky hue.

I found her during a time when it felt that her services were the only thing that could save me from the harsh reality of my life. I stayed because I relished the relief that flooded through my veins after my Setting and wanted to provide that to others in my situation, and ones similar to mine. Like most, I didn’t know what to expect when I crossed the floating bridge to her cottage, but more than anything, I was looking for a reprieve from heartache. And I was told I could find it in The Hollow.