By Martine Leavitt
Keturah, popular for her storytelling, follows a mythical hart deep into the wooded area, the place she turns into hopelessly misplaced. Her energy diminishes until eventually, eventually, she realizes that demise is near—and learns then that loss of life is a tender lord, depression and stern. She is ready to allure Lord demise with a narrative and achieve a reprieve, yet he provides her just a day, and inside of that day she needs to locate real love. A enthralling love tale, interweaving parts of vintage delusion and excessive romance.
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A earlier uploader on one other web site claims this to be Retail.
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Additional info for Keturah and Lord Death
I don’t want to be late for college, for once. We’ve got English first lesson. English has been the only decent thing in college lately. It’s Miss Murray. She’s like an oasis of fun among a wilderness of dinosaurs – if that’s not mixing too many metaphors. Look, see, she’s got to me already. When would I ever have used the word ‘metaphor’ before? She keeps going on about bringing in poems, and a couple of the others have done. I printed out the lyrics to the song I’d mentioned in our first lesson, and keep meaning to show them to her.
I’d gone into town. It had poured with rain and I was sheltering in a shop doorway, waiting for it to stop. I couldn’t even afford a cup of coffee. All I had was two quid for my bus journey, God knows where to, but I knew I’d have to end up going somewhere. So I was standing there minding my own business – well, feeling totally sorry for myself – when this woman came up to me and started yelling. ’ ‘I’m a student,’ I replied, looking at her in amazement, too shocked to get angry. ‘Yes, I’ll bet.
Go on. ’ ‘You said yourself it was a rip-off. It’s scandalous that they should charge that. ’ She pauses and lets a slow smile crawl up her face. ‘Come on, Ash. ’ She knows I can’t resist the challenge of a dare. I wander back to the perfume counter and pretend I can’t decide which one I want. I pick up Sea Mist and hold on to it as I look at the others. It’s heavy and hot in my hand. I wander round the displays, pretending to look but not seeing anything. My heart is beating so hard it’s hurting my chest.