A Crown as Sharp as Pines
Copyright 2022 Jennifer Kropf
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. All places, characters, and ideas are completely crafted by the author’s imagination-powers and if it so happens that someone pretty important in this book reminds you of a deity figure that happens to also be all powerful, mighty, and forgiving of sins then that was most definitely an accident.
(Or was it?)
No parts of this book are to be reproduced without the author’s written consent, with the exception of quotes or short excerpts for promotional purposes.
For more information on books published by
Winter Publishing House, please visit:
www.WinterPublishingHouse.com
ISBN EBOOK: 978-1-990555-03-9
ISBN PAPERBACK: 978-1-990555-04-6
HARDCOVER: 978-1-990555-05-3
Find the special Winter novella,
“Merrily Merrily”
at the back of this book
Contents
PROLOGUE
THE FIRST
THE SECOND
THE FIRST INTERRUPTION
THE THIRD
THE SECOND INTERRUPTION
THE FOURTH
THE FIFTH
THE SIXTH
AN INTERRUPTION
THE SEVENTH
THE NEXT INTERRUPTION
THE EIGHTH
THE FIFTH INTERRUPTION
THE NINTH
THE TENTH
THE ELEVENTH
ANOTHER INTERRUPTION
THE TWELFTH
THE THIRTEENTH
A MIDDLE-ISH INTERRUPTION
THE FOURTEENTH
THE FIFTEENTH
THE SIXTEENTH
THE EIGHTH INTERRUPTION
THE SEVENTEENTH
THE EIGHTEENTH
THE NINTH INTERRUPTION
THE NINETEENTH
THE TENTH INTERRUPTION
THE TWENTIETH
A TRITE-ISH INTERRUPTION
THE TWENTY-FIRST
AN INTERRUPTION
THE TWENTY-SECOND
A WEEK OR THREE LATER…
MERRILY MERRILY
A WINTER STORY
.
PROLOGUE
A spark is how this story begins.
‘Twas a glow of faith, no shinier than a silver spoon, no larger than a mustard seed, quiet for a measure until it was touched by a mighty spirit and given wings. The spark flapped to seek out the youthful heart for which it had been gifted, bringing with it the warmth of a new and glorious morn’.
When the spark landed, it got to work tugging the youthful heart this way and that, wrestling with opposition, calling wickets, and the sputters of doubt in the wind, and setting to lead the fair Trite girl into a destiny unrecognized by any wool-eyed, important theologian.
When little Kaley Bell awoke from the night’s hushed middle, she felt a warm tug in her heart, a beat in her soul, and a purpose on her fingertips. She did not know what it was that had changed that morning, only that a thing had changed. She had the sudden and most unexplainable craving for sweets.
Dreaming of sugar, she climbed from her bed and followed the invisible string tugging her spirit out to her car.
An early-morning haze lingered in the streets of Stratford where Kaley stood a measure later, staring up at a candy store with big, forest-green eyes.
“Hello?” she called toward the dim windows in her birdsong voice.
Making a fluttery decision, she tugged the golden handle and found it unlocked, releasing the scent of sugar powder and maple sweets into the street.
The moment her spring sandals touched the hardwood floors, the quiet shop buzzed to life; candles lit and strings of bulbs spurted to a glow above, illuminating high shelves stacked with all the sweets one could dream of.