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As a reader there are writers that catch your attention and then there are writers that captivate one's being. T.L. Alton is such a writer. She compiles her words in such a way – that the reader cannot help but find themselves immersed, in the worlds being created in her stories. Under the Sitka Tree is a long awaited treasure; deserving of a big comfy chair, a warm cup of tea and complete attention. ~ S. Kube

Entangled in corruption and desire, the novel links a unique skeleton key, to the Sitka spruce tree. Ultimately, each character realizes what lies beneath the masks they wear, is connected to their roots across the land.

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We are bound by our roots, not by our feet.

~Abimbola

Long before his granddaughter Lily was born, Christian had renovated the cabin. One of the additions to the cabin was a loft. The wooden stairs leading up to it creaked with each step, a reminder that her presence there was strictly forbidden.

“You don’t want to go up there,” Christian always said. “It’s musty-full of cobwebs and old junk.”

He had redone the guestroom for Lily’s overnight visits. She recalled the pleasant surprise, of opening the guestroom door, for the first time. A splendid array of delicate pastel colours filled the space. In the middle, a queen-sized quilt adorned with hand-stitched red poppies, covered an Oak bed frame. The bed complimented the interlocking pine logs, which was the structure of the home. Her favourite accent was a string of lights, each encased in a tinted bottle. When plugged in, the lights cast sparks that danced off the walls, reminding her of lightning bugs.

Although she treasured the charming room, the mystery surrounding the loft, drew her upstairs.

Over the years, she had tried several times to gain entry. However, she was dismayed each time, to find the door locked.

Today, though, Lily was determined. She had to know what hidden treasure lay within the secret room—and, more importantly, why her grandfather had kept it from her.

She remembered once seeing him, place a key into a lace-trimmed handkerchief, but could not find it anywhere. About to give up, Lily walked back downstairs, when something caught her eye. On the lower shelf of a cabinet, tucked inside an old watering can, was a piece of lace. She knelt to gently pick up the tarnished antique and reached inside.

Pulling out the frilled cloth, the young girl placed it on her knees and delicately undid the weathered string that entwined it. With sweaty palms and a heartbeat pounding as fast as a hummingbird’s wings, she felt she was about to faint.

Inside was a unique, silver, skeleton key, with a heart at the top enclosing a cross. The key, heavy in her palm, had the word FAITH inscribed on one side. Turning it over, she read the word PIPER. Caressing the key, she knew it was for the lock on the door. Puzzled why no one entered the loft, and eager to find out what lay within, Lily grabbed the cabinet for balance and pulled herself up.

Stepping towards the door, her hands began to shake. Even though she was disobeying her grandfather, Lily convinced herself she had to know, what existed behind the door. The young girl placed the key into the hole below the doorknob. Turning it left then right, she heard the lock click open. Pausing, she listened for any signs of life from downstairs. Satisfied it was safe to continue, Lily pushed open the massive pine door.