The Forest of Hands and Teeth book 1 - Carrie Ryan, ebook
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//-->The Forest Of Hands And TeethCarrie RyanMy mother used to tell me about the ocean. She said therewas a place where there was nothing but water as far as youcould see and that it was always moving, rushing toward youand then away. She once showed me a picture that she saidwas my great-great-great-grandmother standing in the oceanas a child. It has been years since, and the picture was lostto fire long ago, but I remember it, faded and worn. A little girlsurrounded by nothingness.In my mother's stories, passed down from her many-greats-grandmother, the ocean sounded like the wind through thetrees and men used to ride the water. Once, when I wasolder and our village was suffering through a drought, I askedmy mother why, if so much water existed, were there yearswhen our own streams ran almost dry? She told me that theocean was not for drinking—that the water was filled withsalt.That is when I stopped believing her about the ocean. Howcould there be so much salt in the universe and how couldGod allow so much water to become useless?But there are times when I stand at the edge of the Forest ofHands and Teeth and look out at the wilderness thatstretches on forever and wonder what it would be like if itwere all water. I close my eyes and listen to the wind in thetrees and imagine a world of nothing but water closing overmy head.It would be a world without the Unconsecrated, a worldwithout the Forest of Hands and Teeth.Often, my mother stands next to me holding her hand up overher eyes to block the sun and looking out past the fences andinto the trees and brush, waiting to see if her husband willcome home to her.She is the only one who believes that he has not turned—that he might come home the same man he was when he left.I gave up on my father months ago and buried the pain oflosing him as deeply as possible so that I could continue withmy daily life. Now I sometimes fear coming to the edge of theForest and looking past the fence. I am afraid I will see himthere with the others: tattered clothes, sagging skin, thehorrible pleading moan and the fingers scraped raw frompulling at the metal fences.That no one has seen him gives my mother hope. At nightshe prays to God that he has found some sort of enclavesimilar to our village. That somewhere in the dense Forest hehas found safety. But no one else has any hope. The Sisterstell us that ours is the only village left in the world.
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