Wheeling Gull Isle book of psalms

His fear was a prison of his own making, and yet he didn’t know how to unshackle himself. Was it faith in God that armed his father and brother with such courage? He didn’t want to be terrified all the time. He could take no joy in discovery when monsters out there wanted to eat his toes and pick at their teeth with his bones.

He yelps and churns at the sand with his small gray feet, high-tailing it to the den. The only thing worse than being a coward was being a moldy pile of manatee dung.