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Characters of a book — the tormented ones. They’re what binds ink to pages as moths to flames or clouds to rain. They live on, remembered as gods for their plagued souls. And they say life has no beauty — no profound meaning! They carry darkness like an heirloom — passed down, unspoken, but etched into every fiber of their being. Their minds — labyrinths of shadow, shaped by betrayal, loss, and the deafening echoes of what they’ve done or failed to do. They walk through life like cracked wine glasses, fragile yet sharp, their edges capable of drawing blood.
What makes them this way is not just what they’ve endured but how they’ve chosen to bear it, the quiet wars they’ve fought alone, and continue to fight, and the scars they’ve hidden beneath layers of stoic grace, poise, and riveting elegance. Those ones. They are both haunted and haunting, drawing us in with the magnetic pull of their flaws, their humanity written in shades of night. But we’re all the same, them and us. Except, some of us are lucky to be written about. Some of us are observed long enough to be found out.
In The Forbidden Tree, Delilah’s journey beautifully captures the darkness within us — the quiet yet shrieking envy, the yearning to be loved, and the dangerous choices we make when desire consumes us. It is a story of what we, as human beings, are capable of when faced with our own vulnerabilities: the power to destroy and the agony of realizing we’ve become the very thing we feared. stay tuned, The Forbidden Tree is everything you’ve dared to read and everything you’re scared to become.
And my mother thought I was wild before. Ha!😜
