• Complain

Catherine Knutsson - Shadows Cast by Stars

Here you can read online Catherine Knutsson - Shadows Cast by Stars full text of the book (entire story) in english for free. Download pdf and epub, get meaning, cover and reviews about this ebook. genre: Romance novel. Description of the work, (preface) as well as reviews are available. Best literature library LitArk.com created for fans of good reading and offers a wide selection of genres:

Romance novel Science fiction Adventure Detective Science History Home and family Prose Art Politics Computer Non-fiction Religion Business Children Humor

Choose a favorite category and find really read worthwhile books. Enjoy immersion in the world of imagination, feel the emotions of the characters or learn something new for yourself, make an fascinating discovery.

No cover

Shadows Cast by Stars: summary, description and annotation

We offer to read an annotation, description, summary or preface (depends on what the author of the book "Shadows Cast by Stars" wrote himself). If you haven't found the necessary information about the book — write in the comments, we will try to find it.

Old ways are pitted against new horrors in this compellingly crafted dystopian tale about a girl who is both healer and seer. Two hundred years from now, blood has become the most valuable commodity on the planet especially the blood of aboriginal peoples, for it contains antibodies that protect them from the Plague ravaging the rest of the world. Sixteen-year-old Cassandra Mercredi might be immune to Plague, but that doesnt mean shes safe government forces are searching for those of aboriginal heritage to harvest their blood. When a search threatens Cassandra and her family, they flee to the Island: a mysterious and idyllic territory protected by the Band, a group of guerilla warriors and by an enigmatic energy barrier that keeps outsiders out and the spirit world in. And though the village healer has taken her under her wing, and the tribal leaders son into his heart, the creatures of the spirit world are angry, and they have chosen Cassandra to be their voice and instrument Incorporating the traditions of the First Peoples as well as the more familiar stories of Greek mythology and Arthurian legend, Shadows Cast by Stars is a haunting, beautifully written story that breathes new life into ancient customs.

Catherine Knutsson: author's other books


Who wrote Shadows Cast by Stars? Find out the surname, the name of the author of the book and a list of all author's works by series.

Shadows Cast by Stars — read online for free the complete book (whole text) full work

Below is the text of the book, divided by pages. System saving the place of the last page read, allows you to conveniently read the book "Shadows Cast by Stars" online for free, without having to search again every time where you left off. Put a bookmark, and you can go to the page where you finished reading at any time.

Light

Font size:

Reset

Interval:

Bookmark:

Make
Catherine Knutsson Shadows Cast by Stars 2012 For Mikel ACKNOWLEDGMENTS - photo 1

Catherine Knutsson

Shadows Cast by Stars

2012

For Mikel ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Writing a book is a collaborative task I am so - photo 2

For Mikel

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Writing a book is a collaborative task. I am so grateful for the many eyes and hands who have touched this story as it made its way from idea to book.

To Caitlyn Dlouhy and her team at Atheneum: my gratitude for helping me polish this story until it shone.

To the River Writers: Shari, Kristin, Diana, and Sheena, for all the laughs and support and advice along the way.

To my international cast of writer friends: Deb, Jo, Rabia, Ryan, Cat, and Jen, for reading the various drafts and offering such sage and generous advice. And especially, my undying thanks to Elena, for pushing me and encouraging me to break the rules I had created for myself. I am a better writer and better person for knowing you.

To the women of SIFM: such shining examples of strength! My gratitude for your unwavering encouragement, support, and friendship.

To my sister, Carmen, for always being there, no matter what.

To Diana Fox: my heartfelt thanks for all that you have done. You have been a true champion and friend through all this. I couldnt have done it without you.

And, last but never least, to Mikel Knutsson, for picking me up when I fell down (repeatedly!) and for never losing faith in me, even when I had lost it myself.

CHAPTER ONE

We live the Old Way. Our house, constructed of wood timber and roofed with asphalt shingles, straddles the boundary where the wasteland and the northernmost edge of the Western Population Corridor meet. This land was once my great-grandfathers farm. Once was. Hasnt been for a long time.

Every morning, my brother and I rise before dawn, make the trek to the mag-station, and ride into the Corridor to attend school, where we plug into the etherstream via the chip in our forearm. By law, our chip-traces cant display any information about race, religion, or sexual orientation, but our classmates have always known that Paul and I are Others, of aboriginal descent, marked by the precious Plague antibodies in our blood.

Every afternoon, we make the return trip, riding the mag-train to the end of its line before walking back home along the old dirt road. Behind us, smog from the Corridor reaches north, stretching its ugly yellow fingers as far as it can as it tries to snatch up the last of the habitable land. Not long ago, a reserve was here, lodged in the Corridors throat, but all that remains now is our home. We are the only ones who have stayed, clinging to what little is ours, defiantly living as we always have, without computers and etherstreams and data-nets in our home, without food gels, without central heat. This is our choice. This is what it means to live the Old Way.

Today the walk seems longer than usual, because Paul isnt talking to me. He got into a fight earlier in the day, but its not his split lip or his gashed knuckles that have me so worried. Pauls on disciplinary action for fighting and truancy as it is, which is tough on both of us. Why cant you be more like your sister? the teachers always say to him. Why cant you help your brother? they say to me. Were twins, Paul and me, but were not alike-not anymore, at least. Pauls always had a short fuse, but lately its gotten shorter.

Now he walks beside me, slump-shouldered as his battered raven flies next to him. The raven is Pauls shade, his spirit animal, and it always shows up after something bad happens to him. Today it was some kid who was looking for a scapegoat to blame for his brother dying of Plague. The rest who joined in? Well, no one in the Corridor needs an excuse to stick it to an Other.

Paul notices me watching him. Whats wrong? he asks as his shade casts him in the wavering light where spirit and flesh merge. The raven looks as beaten and bruised as Paul.

Your raven. Hes back.

Paul glances over his shoulder, but theres nothing there for him to see. Only I can see the shades, even though I dont seem to have one of my own. Pauls gifts run a different path. Well, he says with a sigh, at least its here and not at school.

Hes right. When shades come to me, they sometimes take me under into the twilight world of spirit. More than once, Ive been trapped there, unable to find my way back to my body. I fear that one day Ill drown in the heavy darkness of the other side. But not today. Today I watch Pauls raven and worry, for theres one thing I know: When a shade comes to visit, something is about to change.

We round the last corner of the road, and the moment our house comes into view, Pauls raven takes flight, leaving my brother lighter, unfettered. Paul may not like it here, but this place is good for him. Under the watchful eyes of the old windows, my brother is whole. He races inside to change out of his school clothes, the old floorboards creaking under his movements. Its not long before he pounds back downstairs and flies through the kitchen, grabbing the last biscuit from breakfast before disappearing outside.

I always leave the last one for him.

I wait until I hear the sound of Pauls ax striking wood before I go inside and close the door, leaning against it to seal the Corridor, school, the Band, the entire world outside. We have made it through another day. Our family is still together, if not whole.

For one complete minute, I allow myself to pretend were safe. The minute ends, as it always does, and reality sets in. Time for chores, but first I need to hide the contraband in my schoolbag: twine, twigs, old pencils, paper clips, elastic bands, tossed-away shirts, a red ribbon, a bundle of rusted keys. The family magpie, my father calls me. He doesnt like that I take castaway items hiding in the school basement or in the lost-and-found, forgotten, homeless. No one may want them, but its still stealing, he says.

I do it anyhow. One day I might need an elastic, or a scrap of leather, or a length of wire. Thats what I tell myself, but most of these things, ancient and obsolete, will end up in a weaving, or a basket, or a dream catcher for Paul. This is how I pass my time when the night falls and were left in the dark, because I dont need to see to work with my hands. I need only to feel.

The twine and paper clips and the other cast-off junk spill onto the table the moment I unbuckle my school bag. Sunlight glints off the keys, and for a moment they seem to wriggle like bright blue herring, a fresh catch, ready to be devoured.

I blink and they are keys again.

The Old Way is a way of work. We have no electricity, no running water, no garbage collection. Our luxuries are born of our own hands. The Old Way keeps us honest, my father says. It keeps us connected to the earth.

That doesnt stop me from thinking about a day, a week, a lifetime in the Corridor. Even with the rolling blackouts, they have heat in the dead of our brutal winter. Their bones dont ache when the rains come, nor do they have to haul in wood when squalls descend from the north, blanketing the world with snow-not to mention its a lot easier to hide from the searchers among the millions in the Corridor. Here, were exposed, and theres not much stopping them from coming to gobble us up.

In the Corridor I would find a job, and with the money I earned, I would buy my father a new armchair so he had somewhere comfortable to sit after a hard day of work. I would buy myself a new wool coat and a pair of boots to keep my feet warm in the winter.

And for my brother?

For Paul, I would buy peace of mind and freedom from the dead, except thats not for sale in the Corridor. Thats not for sale anywhere.

Next page
Light

Font size:

Reset

Interval:

Bookmark:

Make

Similar books «Shadows Cast by Stars»

Look at similar books to Shadows Cast by Stars. We have selected literature similar in name and meaning in the hope of providing readers with more options to find new, interesting, not yet read works.


Reviews about «Shadows Cast by Stars»

Discussion, reviews of the book Shadows Cast by Stars and just readers' own opinions. Leave your comments, write what you think about the work, its meaning or the main characters. Specify what exactly you liked and what you didn't like, and why you think so.