Inshallah Series by Helen Allan

From under the heels of men rose a woman with a thirst for revenge.A slow-burn vampire fantasy with a difference.Perhaps it is because I had tasted more freedom in my short nine years of life than most girls ever would, given my past three years as a bacha posh, an honorary boy.Or perhaps it is because I cannot be a pious, obedient wife – perhaps the mullah is right, perhaps the devil resides inside me... moreFrom under the heels of men rose a woman with a thirst for revenge.A slow-burn vampire fantasy with a difference.Perhaps it is because I had tasted more freedom in my short nine years of life than most girls ever would, given my past three years as a bacha posh, an honorary boy.Or perhaps it is because I cannot be a pious, obedient wife – perhaps the mullah is right, perhaps the devil resides inside me.All I know is that now I am forced to become a girl again, a wife, a mother, all things I do not wish to become.I know that from the moment I enter my new husband’s home, the only faces I am likely to see are those of my husband, my sister-wives and my children. There is no guarantee I will ever see the hillsides, my mother or my little sisters, again. And I shall now only dream of what I once had as a bacha posh – the warmth of the sun on my face and hair, the power of kicking a ball, the freedom to walk the streets without fear, laugh and jostle with the boys.For I am now forced to don the burqa and live the life of the subjugated.How shall I bear it?And how is it the swords on my husband’s wall sing to me? less

I offered him my blood, my soul, my life.A slow-burn vampire fantasy with a difference.Naked and bruised, I stumble along the street, my hands tied behind me.Canes crack against my back and behind my knees when I falter as my captors push me along the crowd-lined street to the stoning pole. Sweat is pouring down my face from the long walk from the mosque to the centre of town in the midday sun... moreI offered him my blood, my soul, my life.A slow-burn vampire fantasy with a difference.Naked and bruised, I stumble along the street, my hands tied behind me.Canes crack against my back and behind my knees when I falter as my captors push me along the crowd-lined street to the stoning pole. Sweat is pouring down my face from the long walk from the mosque to the centre of town in the midday sun. But I know I’m not the only one sweltering and suffering under the heat as I face the crowd of women and children who have been shepherded outdoors to watch my punishment.A stoning is Allah’s justice, after all, and must be witnessed so that all can fear his power and might.The second in the Inshallah series will leave you gasping for breath! less