Eve Of War – Regina Sirois

We greased their guts and for two days we scrunched up our eyes and peered so hard we thought we saw improvement. But that was only because we wanted it so badly. We only lost one more to convulsions the first night so we assumed the fluke eggs were getting through their system and would soon clear up. By the third day it was impossible to ignore the trembling, skinny sheep and the lambs curled up in distress, disinterested even in bottles.

I held two in my arms and cried rivers because they were our new hybrids and their markings were so beautiful it’d make a grown man weep. My father looked on helplessly and waited every day for Holton, who looked like a haunted man when he showed up. He spent all of his visits muttering and cursing to himself. I heard tetanus, rabies, fungus, arsenic, arthritis, all mentioned under his breath, but nothing fit all the symptoms. “Magnesium and calcium are too low, but the ones I injected aren’t showing any improvement.

Hell, Eve,” he announced in profound frustration when he saw me cradling the sick lambs. “It looks like they all had a breakfast of rat poison, I’ve tested their feed for lead and poisons, I’ve searched the entire barn for anything irregular, but your father is immaculate. There’s nowt!” He raked a hand through this white hair and scowled bitterly around us. “Hell and damnation!” He saw me once more and it looked like he wanted to cry and fight all at once.

“I am so sorry. I let my tongue loose.” “We’re all thinking it,” I replied. “I’m not sure it matters so very much who says it.” Theo came and fed the lambs with me. It is almost impossible to describe the work of feeding 67 lambs by bottle, alone. William was gone working for Mr. Daily, his school books gathering dust in the corner of the living room. Every time I passed them I thought they looked like a pile of dead thoughts, left unburied and grotesque.

Eventually I tucked them out of sight under the side table. Even with Theo’s occasional help I barely slept. Holton told us Jonathon called his clinic every day to check on things, which I thought terribly kind, but he never did call me, which would have been kinder. I forgave him, however, when the packages started to arrive. I think Dad and I would have starved this week had it not been for the Dorans.

Print Edition ISBN-10: 1537640003 Print Edition ISBN-13: 978-1537640006 This book was previously published as To Move the World. First printed in the United States of America by CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform, 2016 Revised edition printed by Kindle Direct Publishing, 2021 Copyright © Regina Sirois, 2016, 2021 All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without expressed written consent of the author except in cases of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

v2.0.0 First Published 10/01/2016 Cover design and layout by Justin Sirois. www.reginasirois.com OceanofPDF.com CONTENTS TITLE PAGE COPYRIGHT DEDICATION CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2 CHAPTER 3 CHAPTER 4 CHAPTER 5 CHAPTER 6 CHAPTER 7 CHAPTER 8 CHAPTER 9 CHAPTER 10 CHAPTER 11 EPILOGUE More from Regina Sirois OceanofPDF.com TO JAIMA, MY HEARTFELT THANKS. OCEANOFPDF.COM CHAPTER 1 8TH FEBRUARY 1939 I lost my breath as soon as I tore enough parcel paper away to see the black case. Even the Smith Corona embossed on the side couldn’t make me entirely believe it.

“It’s months ‘til my birthday and Christmas is over.” I turned to Dad who fought back an embarrassed grin before I unlatched the lid to reveal her sleeping inside, burgundy body curled in a nest of black satin. I shrieked once, then started cooing in the same voice I use when a lamb is born. William got impatient and made a grab for her. “Get off or take a braying,” I warned. “Dad!” he complained.

“Eve won’t let me see the new typewriter.” “My new typewriter, thank you very much. Hands off!” “Give ‘er a span to see it first,” Dad told him, his face gruff and grinning at all once. “It’s just a second-hand job. Did a bit o’ trade.” He murmured as he scratched at his coarse whiskers. William made one more grab, but I shrieked and Dad growled and my brother surrendered with an enormous sigh. “She doesn’t even have a ribbon yet,” I said a bit kinder, hoping to reconcile.

“I’ve hardly touched her.” “What do you mean ‘she?’ It’s a typewriter.” William moped his way into a kitchen chair.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

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• Title: –
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• ISBN: 9781537640006, 1537640003
• Pages: 221
• Language: English (en)

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• Total Words: 90,653
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