Title- Silent Echo: A Siren’s Tale
Series- Silent Echo Trilogy # 1
By- Elisa Freilich
Publication Date- September 2013
Published By- Diversion Books
Genre- YA Fantasy/Paranormal
Blurb
Silence was Portia Griffin’s nemesis. In a world where teens
never cease to speak their minds, the sixteen year old Portia, rendered
mysteriously mute at birth, has opted out of the mainstream conversation. Instead, this silent sophomore at Ridgewood
Preparatory Academy finds solace in her keen love of music and bizarre
obsession with birds. And it doesn’t
hurt that her best friend, Felix Fein, deaf at the age of eight, couldn’t care
less whether or not she is able to execute the spoken word.
But Portia’s world is about to change – and not necessarily
for the better.
After sixteen silent years, Portia is suddenly gifted with a
voice unparalleled in its purity and powers. Her new ability to persuade, to
seduce and to destroy with her voice alone sends Portia on a search for answers
she never imagined she’d have to accept.
Prologue
The fluttering of the birds’ wings against the windshield
produced a steady noise not unlike the whirring of a fan.
He looked over at the pained face of his wife. She was at
the peak of labor, her contractions only two minutes apart. Her water had
broken several hours ago, and despite his demands to leave immediately for the
hospital, Helena had insisted on waiting it out, determined to relish the birth
of their first child in the comfort of their own home.
Joshua had only conceded knowing that in Ridgewood there
wasn’t likely to be much traffic. Their worst delay might be having to wave to
a familiar pedestrian.
But this roadblock could never have been foreseen. They were
everywhere — the feathers, the flapping wings. When the first one had landed, a
snowy white creature with clouded jade eyes, he had thought nothing of it.
Swerving gently, Joshua was surprised that the bird held its ground, welcoming
its identical twin, who swooped down and landed firmly on the hood of the car.
And then an avalanche.
Identical white birds streaming down in droves, their
verdigris eyes boring curiously beyond the windshield.
She cried out in pain.
“Please,” she pleaded with her husband — her voice was
barely above a whisper. “Please get me some help.”
Joshua looked over at his wife. Her milky complexion, now
blue as a flame, had taken on an unnatural translucence, revealing the frenetic
pumping of blood through her veins.
But trapped inside the chrysalis of feathers and beak, there
was no way to maneuver the car forward. Or in any direction, for that matter.
“I’m so sorry, baby, I can’t see a thing…”
He tried prompting the flock to leave with a few angry
bursts of the horn. But the sound only propelled the beating of their wings.
And with each new unwelcome visitor, a sterile Labor and Delivery room became a
fantasy reserved for another universe.
Dialing 911, Joshua tried maintaining his composure. He
could sense the operator’s skepticism until Helena let out a fortuitous moan,
lending an undeniable truth to his tale. He tried pinpointing their location.
Where were they anyway?
While he attempted to gain his bearings, Helena became
entranced by the thumping of the giant wings. The percussion was a sponge,
soaking up her anxiety at being trapped. The vibration of the wings made its
way down her spine, relieving the immense pressure in her belly.
With a burst of sudden clarity Helena knew that this was
going to be the birthplace of her child. Right here, on Thornton Road. There
would be no hospital and no Dr. Schein. Joshua would have to deliver this baby
and she felt it coming. Fast.
The birds continued to flock to the car, forming a layer
three deep. Nestling their heads into one another, they hastened the rhythm of
their wings, their movements in perfect unison. She stared them down and, as
they returned her gaze, the balloon that was her swollen body was untied, her
pain released in a slow and steady stream, replaced by an utter sense of calm.
There were only the birds now.
Never mind the fruitless attempts of her husband to open the
car door against the impenetrable suction. No recognition of his own panic, his
own understanding that if she didn’t make it through this, there would be no
tomorrow for either one of them.
And still, the birds remained.
The creatures lifted their heads up, one by one, revealing
their aged green eyes. Helena basked in the comfort of the winged voyeurs,
grateful for the way they had reversed the current of her pain.
“It’s coming,” she whispered to Joshua.
Joshua surrendered any vestiges of calm to which he had been
clinging, his face a mosaic of horror and shock.
“What? You mean now?”
And before Helena could even answer, the child emerged.
Joshua caught the tiny creature in the bath towel they had grabbed as an
afterthought just before leaving the house.
“Oh my god, Helena, it’s a girl!” His voice trembled, unable
to find solid ground. “She seems perfect! Oh my god—“
Helena looked down at the child. She was perfect. A small
silken tuft of brown hair sat like a crown atop her delicate skull. Her fingers
were long and graceful, tiny papery nails topping each one. Her lips were full,
forming a perfect ruby heart.
Joshua started wiping the child clean, offering his wife
words of endearment and praying that the paramedics would arrive soon. But his
words floated away like particles of dust. There was no room for them in the
air that had become filled with the cries of the newborn.
The thumping of the birds’ wings began to fade, offering
center stage to the cries of the baby. Gradually, one by one, they flew away
forming a perfect arrow as they soared into the dusky sky.
When the last one was gone, the baby’s cries became a
tornado sucking away all other sounds and sights. The storm of the infant’s
tears held within it a somnolent melody, every sob the next movement in the
tearful symphony.
Joshua and Helena struggled to keep their eyes open despite
the deep sleep that was suddenly beckoning them. The sounds of the child were a
quicksand. And they were being pulled under.
Just as they were about to be submerged completely, the
arrival of the paramedics jolted Helena, awakening her maternal instincts. She
drew her new daughter to her breast, amazed at her ability to nourish the child
from her own body. The baby fell silent as she began to suckle, breaking the
dreamy spell that had been wielded by her tears.
Sleepily, Helena ran a gentle fingertip over the velvety
cheeks of her new daughter. They would call her Portia, just like they had
talked about.
“I will never grow tired of hearing your voice, little
Portia,” whispered the proud mother to her new daughter.
She could never have known then that for the next sixteen
years the child would not make another sound.
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About the Author
Elisa Freilich has enjoyed a love affair with language from
her earliest days. Raised in rural Monsey, New York, Elisa spent her days
reading whatever crossed her path and developing a keen appreciation for the
ever-present music in her home – from classical to rock. French lessons and
creative writing workshops complemented her adolescence, which was also greatly
enhanced by a summer spent abroad at Cambridge University. From the time she
could read and write, Elisa could often be found composing poems, song lyrics
and satirical newspapers.
After her college years at Boston University, Elisa
continued her creative pursuits, working as a junior VP of Marketing at a
corporate graphic design agency and, later, as an interior decorator.
Eventually, Elisa left the workforce to raise her family, in her now hometown
of Englewood, NJ.
Throughout the years, Elisa has retained her devotion to all
genres of books and music and was determined to synthesize her passions into
one refreshing and original platform. The result is her debut novel, SILENT
ECHO: A Siren’s Tale, which will be published by Diversion Books in Summer
2013. With her own lyrical style, Elisa has created a world that young adults
around the globe will find intensely gripping and refreshingly original.
When Elisa is not writing, her creative outlets still
abound. She is fierce with a set of knitting needles, a hot glue gun and any
ingredients that can somehow be fashioned into a sinful and highly caloric
babka.
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