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Shadow Self-chapter twelve

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on July 22, 2020
Posted in: birdsong, hope faith God whispers heaven, books, changelings, Dwarfs, Eerie Places, elves, enemies, Fairies, Fantasy, fiction, folklore, Goblins, Gothic, Gothic novel, hidden worlds, Ireland's past, Irish folklore, kings, legend, magic, memories, queens, revenge, scary, strange worlds, teenagers, teenegers, wise women, Witchcraft, Witches, wizards, wonder, writers, writing, young adults. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

   “Why doesn’t Aunt Maisie like me?” Juliet asked her mother.

   “Where did you get that idea?” Her mother looked at her in wonder. “She does like you. It’s just that you remind her of someone she loved and lost a long time ago.”

   “Who,” Juliet pressed her mother for an answer.

   “I shouldn’t be telling you this,” her mother closed the kitchen door so no one would hear. “I want you to promise to keep it to yourself.”

   “I swear,” Juliet crossed her heart.

   “Maisie had a sister who went missing many years ago. Dawn was three years old at the time and your aunt about six. Their mother left them alone in the garden for a few minutes and during that time Dawn disappeared. They searched for days, dragging the rivers and streams, but they never found any trace of her. All that your aunt could say was the fairies took her.”

   “Oh, god, that’s terrible,” Juliet gasped. “What do you think happened to her?”

   “No one knows. She may have wandered off and fell in to some old well,” her mother said. “Whatever happened, your aunt has never forgiven herself, and I think that every time she looks at you, you remind her of her sister. Try and be a bit more understanding.”

That explained a lot, Juliet thought, as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom. She sensed something was not quite right in the old house. It still gave her the creeps. The portraits of the old-fashioned looking men and women who gazed down their nose at her from the downstairs walls did not help. Sometimes, when she was sure that no one could see, she stuck her tongue out at them. Childish, she knew, but it made her feel better. Dawn’s disappearance added to the air of mystery, and she wonder how she could find out more.

   The next morning was dull and overcast. Dark clouds hung so low in the sky; she knew they were about to burst. It was the kind of day that there was nothing to do but stay inside. Wiping the sheen of condensation on the windowpane with the sleeve of her dressing gown, she peered out in to the garden. There was someone standing over by the folly. It seemed to be a tall, grey-looking figure that might just as well been a smudge on the glass. Kim’s shout that breakfast was on the table made her forget all about it. Everyone was discussing how foul the weather had turned and this fell in with Juliet’s plan.

   “How about playing dressing up?” She suggested to Kim. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Kim narrowed her eyes, her sister never offered to play with her.

   “Yeah, I would,” she searched Juliet’s face to see if she were just teasing her. “But we have no old clothes.”

   “There are trunk loads of them in the attic,” their aunt said.

   “Great, I’ll get a flashlight,” Juliet jumped up from her seat.

   “No need,” her aunt said. “There are lights up there. The switch is inside the door.”

   The interior of the attic was not as dark as Juliet imagined. It smelt of trapped heat, of age and secrets. Two overhead windows, barred and covered with cobwebs, let the light in. Flicking on the switch, they waited until the fluorescent strips lining the rafters came to life.

   “Ugh,” Kim pointed up at the dark shapes hanging overhead.

   “Bat’s,” Juliet said. “They sleep all day, so they won’t bother us.”

   “No way, I’m staying here,” Kim turned to leave.

   “Look, if you stay with me for a while, I’ll let you play on my computer,” Juliet offered.

   “What are you up too?” Kim narrowed her eyes. Juliet never let her use the computer.

   “I want to look at some stuff, ok? Have a root around. There might be jewellery in the trunks and let me know if you find any photos.”

While Kim foraged, Juliet threw open one trunk after the other until she found the one, she was looking for. Hundreds of years of family history came to light as she searched among the brown, aged documents. She had been sorting for hours when she found it. Her heart began to beat faster when she saw the childish handwriting on the envelope that proclaimed, “Dawn and me.”

Shadow Self-chapter eleven

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on July 21, 2020
Posted in: birdsong, hope faith God whispers heaven, changelings, Dwarfs, Eerie Places, elves, enemies, Fairies, Fantasy, fiction, folklore, Goblins, Gothic, Gothic novel, hidden worlds, Ireland's past, Irish folklore, kings, legend, magic, queens, revenge, scary, strange worlds, teenagers, wise women, Witchcraft, wizards, writers, writing, young adults. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

Corey and his new family settled into the house. The first few weeks seemed a rollercoaster of emotions, as they sorted through the outbuildings. In one, he found his father’s old bike. Though rusted and with flat tyres, they restored it, so Corey had a means of transport. Even since he was old enough to work, he took whatever jobs he could find. The latest was an evening job in a burger joint. This, on top of Tom’s pension, kept the house running. Corey had been saving for years and most of his wages went into the bank. The savings book was under an insole in his runners, and it was this money he used to buy the things they needed. The electricity was back on, and he now had a power point for the second-hand computer he had managed to buy. Most of the homeless kept in contact this way, as the internet cafés gave them the much-needed shelter from the cold and provided them with a means of communications. Corey had hundreds of friends, and though the lives of most of those who lived rough could be transient, he managed to keep in touch with most of them. Life was good for him, though he was exhausted from the long bike ride to and from the town. The hours on his feet serving customers were hard, but he would not swap what he had for the world. Annie let him sleep in most days, as he sometimes did not get home until the early hours of the morning. Today was no exception and the house was quiet when he woke. The others were outside enjoying the good weather. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Corey swung his legs on to the floor. His night was restless and filled with the familiar dream about knights and castles. I am getting too old for fairy tales, he thought, as he walked down the corridor to the bathroom. This room was freezing, and goose pimples rose on his skin, as he turned on the hot tap. Calling it hot was a bit of an exaggeration. He was dozy from sleep, and he leant against the sink and watched as it began to fill. Lights danced on the water, bright gold, purple and red merged and started to take shape. He looked around him, wondering what caused such colours, but there was nothing in the stark, black, and white bathroom to account for it. Corey stared into the water and watched open-mouthed as a figure appeared. It was crazy, like watching TV under water. He leaned closer as the figure became clearer. It was a girl, red hair floated about a pale face and her huge eyes were filled with a silent pleading. Her lips moved and a word echoed from far away, “Culdoplin.”

Then she was gone, the colours faded, and the water lay still. Corey’s heart pounded so much it hurt. That was his word, the word whispered in his dreams. What did it mean? Too frightened to wash, he sprayed deodorant under his arms and ran from the room.

The alley smelt of stale beer, vomit, and rotten food. Corey wrinkled his nose in disgust, as he hauled two black sacks of rubbish over to the dumpsters. The bulb in the streetlamp beside the dumpsters had blown, so they were deep in shadow. A bottle clattered across the yard and the sound sent his heart racing. As he threw the bags in among the other rubbish, it came again.

   “Is someone there?” He asked, imagining it to be some homeless person in search of food.

There was a dry, shuffling sound, as though something was unfolding itself after hours in one, prone position. It moved out of the shadows and started to walk towards him. Corey’s legs filled with lead and he could not get them to move. It kept advancing until the Thing was right in front of him. What he saw made his heart spasm. It towered above him, so he had to put his head back to look at it. Its face was ashen, its lips bloodless and drawn back over sharp vicious-looking teeth. The only colour, for want of a better word, was the blackness of the eyes. Like fathomless pools of darkness, they scanned his face, and he saw in them his own reflection. A hand reached out, more claw than hand, with long, pointed nails.

   “You are the one,” it rasped, the sound tearing at the boy’s ears.

Oh god, Corey thought this is how I am going to die, alone in a filthy alley and murdered by some freak. As the claw moved closer, he closed his eyes. When nothing happened, he peeped under the lids to find the Thing was distracted by something. He heard the deep growl before he saw the beast. It was a huge, black dog, the size of a small cow and it was advancing on the Thing. Its red eyes blazed as the Thing covered its face with the sleeve of its black cloak. Corey did not wait to see anymore, but turned and ran back into the burger bar, slamming and bolting the door behind him.

Shadow Self-chapter ten

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on July 20, 2020
Posted in: birdsong, hope faith God whispers heaven, books, changelings, Dwarfs, Eerie Places, elves, enemies, Fairies, Fantasy, fiction, folklore, Goblins, Gothic, Gothic novel, hidden worlds, Ireland's past, Irish folklore, kings, legend, magic, queens, strange worlds, teenagers, wise women, Witchcraft, Witches, wizards, wonder, writers, writing, young adults. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

Juliet found the first night in her new home, terrifying. The old manor house was best suited to ghosts rather than the living, with its dark passages and endless, narrow corridors. The small cloakroom on the ground floor was the only place that did not stink of musk. Its small bathroom meant that Juliet did not have to climb up into the darkness.

   Lunch that first afternoon was an uncomfortable affair with everyone trying to pretend that everything was normal, but conversation was stilted. Her aunt tried her best to cheer things up with her no-nonsense approach to things.

   “I know it’s difficult for you,” she said, looking from Juliet to Kim. “But your parents are not the first to lose their jobs.”

   “We know that aunt,” Juliet answered for both. “And we don’t mind moving, well, you no,” she shrugged when her aunt raised an eyebrow.

   “You’ll soon settle in,” the old woman smiled. “And I must admit, I’m looking forward to having the company for a change. Go and explore the house,” she said. “I had four of the bedrooms aired, so you can choose which one you like best.”

Juliet and Kim were glad to be free of the kitchen and hurried out to join their father in carrying the suitcases upstairs.

Like the rest of the house, the furniture in the bedrooms was big, dark, and ancient-looking. It was early Victorian, her father explained, but all Juliet saw was the way it filled every room with its bulk and gave shadows somewhere to hide. Her room seemed like a vast cavern. Her aunt said she had the rooms aired, but dust lay inches deep on all the surfaces. The air smelt stale, and it was obvious from the grime-coated windows that they had not been opened in decades. Her bed was a huge, lumbering four-poster, the type she had seen in books and movies. Its once-bright tapestry faded and covered with old cobwebs and inches of dust. Juliet shivered, imagining the countless generations of spiders who made their home within the folds. Two large wardrobes faced it from the other end of the room and a matching dressing table nestled in the alcove of the bay window.  

   “It needs a lot of care,” her mother came in and put an arm around Juliet’s shoulder.

   “It needs condemning,” Juliet said. “I can’t sleep in that,” she nodded at the bed.

   “You go and explore,” her mother kissed the top of her head. “By the time you come back you won’t recognise the place.”

   “Cobwebs,” Juliet reminded her, pointing at the bed curtains.

She found Kim jumping up and down on the bed in her room. Dust rose into the air every time she landed on the stale covers.

   “Isn’t this the greatest bed?” Kim asked.

   “What’s so good about it?” Juliet thought, it is ugly.

   “It has curtains and everything,” Kim slid on to the floor. “It’s like a bed for a princess.”

   “Yeah, whatever,” Juliet shrugged, too miserable to argue. “I’m going to look around the house. You can come if you want?”

   “Yeah,” Kim paused, to tuck her teddy bear under the covers. “See you later, Mr Snuggles.”

   “You are so simple,” Juliet threw her eyes to heaven. “I sometime wonder if we’re related.”

   “I’d rather be simple than old and grumpy like you,” Kim flounced past her.

It is true, Juliet thought, I feel old, and I am still just a teenager.

   The rest of the house was worse than their bedrooms, as some of the rooms reeked of damp and decay.  

   “Is aunt Maisie poor now?” Kim asked.

   “I don’t know, maybe,” Juliet said.

Later when they met their father in the garden, she asked him same question. Maisie was a little eccentric, he said, but she had a healthy bank balance. She had given him free rein when he suggested doing some repairs and tidying the garden.

   Juliet tried to banish dark thoughts, but when it came time for bed, they returned. Her room was much cleaner and the dreaded bed curtains gone, but it still held its air of gloom. She left the curtains open so the light from the full moon lit the room, but it made crouching beasts of the giant wardrobes. As the air cooled the woodwork contracted, making little cracking noises that sounded loud as gun shots to her frayed nerves. The wild cry of some night creature echoed from outside and at that same instant her bedroom door creaked open.

   “Can I sleep with you tonight?” Kim stood framed in the doorway hugging Mr Snuggles.

Juliet had never been more pleased to see her little sister.

Shadow Self-chapter nine

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on July 17, 2020
Posted in: birdsong, hope faith God whispers heaven, books, changelings, Dwarfs, Eerie Places, elves, enemies, Fairies, Fantasy, fiction, folklore, gloom, Goblins, Gothic, hidden worlds, Ireland's past, Irish folklore, kings, legend, magic, monsters, passion, queens, revenge, strange worlds, teenegers, wise women, Witchcraft, Witches, wizards, wonder, writing, young adults. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

Corey watched as the others explored the garden. He thought life on the streets had made him hard, as he had witnessed some terrible things over the years and believed himself immune to feelings. Why then did he feel so sad? He cleared his throat, hoping this small act would dispel the lump that formed there. The grass shimmered, as his eyes filled with tears. The screech of the garden gate became a welcome distraction, and he hurried back to the front of the house. The sight of a police car parked outside on the road would once have instilled fear in him, but now it meant nothing. A lone officer stood waiting.

   “This is private property,” he said to Corey. “What are you doing here?”

   “I’m Corey Dawson,” he held out his hand.

   “Paul Regan,” the officer shook it. “I’m the community police officer and I got a call to say that there was somebody snooping round the place.”

   “I inherited the house from my parents,” Corey explained. “I have just turned eighteen and decided to come home.”

He did not want the officer to know that he was underage, and it was just a little lie.

   “Who are they?” The man nodded at the others, who had come to see what was happening.

   “My grandfather, Tom, my aunt Annie and my cousins,” Corey introduced them.

The others held their breath. It was obvious they seemed a ragged group and no one would believe that, but Corey held the man’s stare.

   “Well, let me be the first to welcome you to the neighbourhood,” the officer smiled. “I’ll let everyone know you’re back, and good luck to you all.”

   “How do you do that?” Tom whispered, as they watched the officer climb back into the car.

   “Do what?”

   “Get people to believe everything you say.”

   “I’ve no idea, I’ve always been able to do it,” Corey said, as he pulled out the old tin box.

The key to the front door nestled next to the sepia-coloured will, and his hand shook, as he picked it up and placed it in the lock. It felt stiff from disuse, and he had to jiggle it a few times before it opened. Hundreds of envelopes, circulars and old newspapers blocked their way, and they pushed hard to get the opening wide enough to slip inside. The hall smelt musty, and there was another overriding odour, the stench of ammonia. Cats got inside and left their trademark by peeing all over the place.  Corey’s legs felt like lead as he made his way upstairs to his old room. His fingers gripped the white, round knob of the door handle, and for a moment, he remembered a time when his hand was much smaller and the doorknob as big as a football. The door creaked open and a small rush of trapped air sighed all around him. The room was exactly how he remembered it, with its Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles posters and matching bedspread. The curtains were closed, and he walked to the window and pulled them back. Inches of dust fell, causing him to sneeze. He sat down on the bed. They were all there, still waiting; his childhood heroes and he wondered why he had not taken them with him to the home. Perhaps, he sensed with that secret, instinctive knowing of a child, that they were better left behind. He picked up the action figures one by one. Leonardo, he pressed the cold, plastic head above his upper lip, hoping to find some scent of himself trapped there, but there was nothing. He did the same with the others Raphael, Donatello, Michelangelo, and Splinter, the rat, and the mentor of the turtles. The villains were there also, and he scowled at the fierce faces of his two favourites, Bebop and Rocksteady. He started collecting the figures long after they had gone out of fashion, and he remembered how his parents took great pains in tracking down each one of them.

           He had to get out. He closed the door behind him and walked to the next room. His parents’ room, like his own, lay suspended in time. His mother’s makeup littered the top of the dressing table and a nightdress lay carefully folded on her pillow. He opened the wardrobe door. His father’s suits hung in a neat row and jostled with his mother’s dresses for space. The smell of damp was overpowering, and patches of mould clung to the fabric. He went over to the dressing table. He was grateful for the solidness of the small stool, as he sat down. It felt sturdy and safe in a day that was fast becoming surreal. Cobwebs coated the mirror in front of him and dust settled on each carefully woven thread, making his image hazy. He picked up a glass bottle and pulled out the stopper. His mother’s scent rose in the air. It smelt of Christmas, autumn fires and warm summer days. He was home, he was finally home. Corey put his head down and sobbed.

Shadow Self-chapter eight

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on July 16, 2020
Posted in: birdsong, hope faith God whispers heaven, books, changelings, Dwarfs, Eerie Places, elves, enemies, Fairies, Fantasy, fiction, folklore, gloom, Goblins, Gothic, hidden worlds, Ireland's past, Irish folklore, kings, legend, magic, monsters, queens, revenge, strange worlds, teenegers, twlight, wise women, Witchcraft, Witches, wizards, wonder, writers, writing, young adults. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

The driver wrinkled his nose but had the good manners to keep his opinion to himself, as Corey lead the scruffy group on to the bus. As the bus pulled away from the kerb, everyone started speaking at once. They were delighted when Corey told them they would have a house all to themselves.

   “Is there a kitchen?” Annie asked. “Cause I’m a good cook.”

   “It has a kitchen and four bedrooms, though Jamie, Stew and Rasher will have to share,” Corey told them.

   “Are you pulling our leg, boy?” Tom asked.

   “Have I ever lied to you,” Corey asked, and without waiting for an answer, he continued. “It’s a fine old house with an acre of garden. It’s been locked up for a long time, but we’ll soon have it in order.”

   “And no one can throw us out?” Jamie asked in wonder.

   “No, it’s going to be our home from now on, and it will be our job to take care of it.”

That last bit of news stunned them into silence. It was hard to imagine there was a place where they were safe from the street predators, and no one could tell them to move along. Their silence gave Corey a chance to get his thoughts together. Tapping his rucksack, he heard the comforting ping of the tin box. In it were the three things he held most dear. Pulling out the rusty box, he opened the lid and stared down at his treasures. The will, in which his parents left him the house, the old brown key for the front door, and the silver pendant that had lost none of its shine over the years. He did not dare wear it before as it would attract the street predators, but now he placed the chain around his neck and closed the clasp. The metal was cool against his skin as his fingers traced the outline of the phoenix. He had thought about going home before, but something held him back. He turned and looked out at the fields and bushes as the memories came flooding back. It was the day of his fifth birthday, when the policemen came into the classroom. He remembered the thrill of seeing the uniforms, as he thought of them as superheroes who caught the bad guys. Later, they would explain that there had been an accident and his parents had gone to heaven. There was no relative to take on the care of a young boy, and what followed was a nightmarish assortment of foster homes. Some were ok, but as he got older, things got worse. His body still retained the scars of beating at the hands of those who were supposed to care for him.

The bus came to a shuddering stop and he tucked the box back in the rucksack.

   “It’s a bit of a walk from here,” Corey said, as they watched the bus drive away. “You can lean on me, Tom.”

   “There’s no need for that,” Tom straightened his shoulders. “The old feet aren’t too bad.”

The chimneys of the house appeared first among the overgrown trees lining the road. Corey felt his heart ache, as they moved closer to the once familiar building.

   “It’s a fine house,” Tom patted his shoulder, sensing his pain. “And it’s been waiting for you.”

The paint was peeling from the gate and the rusty hinges groaned, as Corey pushed against it. White flecks fell like hail, as the rest of the paint surrendered to his touch. The stone slabs leading up to the front door lay broken and weeds sprouted from between the cracks. Wild roses ran riot, their budding beauty a welcome site among the thorns and brambles.

   “I’d like to take a few moments before going inside,” Corey said.

   “No, it’s all right, boy,” Tom assured him. “We’ll wait with you. How about looking around the back?”

After depositing their bags at the front door, they all walked round the side of the house.

   “It’s huge,” Jamie spread his arms wide when he saw how big the garden was. “What are those buildings at the bottom?”

   “They’re old stables,” Corey said.

   “Great, can we get a horse?”

   “No, horses are expensive,” then noticing the boy’s disappointment, Corey said. “We can get chickens though.”

   “Brilliant,” Jamie punched the air before running and hugging everyone in turn.

They laughed, and the boys pushed him away. Tom and Annie were aware of the sadness in Corey’s eyes and the memories he would face when he stepped inside the house.

Shadow Self- chapter six

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on July 14, 2020
Posted in: birdsong, hope faith God whispers heaven, books, changelings, Dwarfs, Eerie Places, elves, enemies, Fairies, Fantasy, fiction, folklore, Goblins, Gothic, hidden worlds, Ireland's past, Irish folklore, kings, legend, magic, monsters, queens, strange worlds, wise women, Witchcraft, Witches, wizards, wonder, writing. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

Queen Heather stared down as the baby nestled in the crook of her arm and felt her heart torn by love and fear. The little princess was the most perfect being she had even seen. Her dark red hair would mark her out among her subjects like fire on snow.

   “My darling daughter, how can I bear this pain,” the queen whispered.

A single tear fell on the baby’s face and she made a soft mewing sound at its touch.

The wise women were back and had come to give their blessing to the child. The queen told them what she intended to do.

   “Let us take her, majesty,” Mistress Doogood offered.

   “No, I must do it,” the queen said.

   “But, majesty,” the women protested.

   “I have decided, and I will need your help to dress,” the queen handed Mistress Gamp the baby.

When she was ready, she took a small box from beside the bed. Inside on a cushion of gossamer paper sat a pendant; pressed from the finest silver and in the symbol of her people, a phoenix. It had a small tag attached and a note written in the queen’s own hand.

   “A gift for your precious child.”

Lady Blackthorn’s son would receive an identical pendant. Both were filled with fairy magic and would keep them safe in the mortal world.

   The castle hallways lay silent as the queen and her entourage crept along. Lady Blackthorn stood waiting at the top of the basement steps.

   “He is so beautiful,” the queen looked down at her friend’s child.

   “As is the princess,” Iris stroked the princess’s hair.

   “We must go, majesty, while the world is still in darkness,” Galten urged.

The air was cold when they walked out of the castle, and the streets of the kingdom silent under the cloak of darkness. They moved with lightning speed up through the cave leading to the mortal world. Here the night sky seemed a vast amphitheatre of stars, as all the astral bodies had come out to see the new-borns. Above their heads the ruins of Culdoplin Castle stood like a dark sentinel. The castle marked the spot leading to the hidden world, and its kings were protectors of those beneath them. Their line had died out and the castle, like its rulers, was now lifeless. Now it was time to separate.

   “Go with Lady Blackthorn, she will need your strength,” the queen whispered to Galten.

   “Be brave, my queen,” Iris kissed her and walked away.

   “Come, majesty,” Mistress Doogood put her arm around the queen’s waist.

The miles passed in moments and stars flew above them, as they moved towards their destinations.

The hospital was sleeping. Casting a spell of invisibility, the elfin women moved across its polished floors towards the nursery. The room pulsed with the wonder of new life, and its touch was a balm of the queen’s aching heart. The baby they chose was an exact copy of her own child, with the same pale skin and red hair. But she was not her child, and never would be,

   “I cannot do this dreadful thing,” the queen handed her baby to Mistress Gamp.

   “Go and see the child’s mother,” she said as she took the baby. “See for yourself the goodness in her.”

Large tears ran down the queen’s cheeks and caused dark stains to form on her gold gown. Alice lay in a deep, exhausted sleep. The queen looked down at her and sensed waves of kindness flowing from the mortal woman. Placing the box with the pendant beside the bed, she whispered.

   “Take care of my child, and I in turn, will do the same for you.”

She glided over to the window and looked out at the world of men. It made her shiver to watch the mortals, who had so little time to live, waste it on things that had no meaning. Her child would lose its elfin powers, as its new parents taught it about nothing other than material things.

   “We must go, majesty,” Mistress Gamp held the changeling.

No one wanted to stay for long in the mortal world. Its atmosphere was draining on those who were many hundreds of years old. Now, because of her decision, her daughter would age and die. While she would be forced to look into the eyes of a stranger for hundreds of years to come, a stranger she would call daughter.

Shadow Self- chapter five

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on July 13, 2020
Posted in: birdsong, hope faith God whispers heaven, books, changelings, Dwarfs, Eerie Places, elves, enemies, Fairies, Fantasy, fiction, folklore, Goblins, Gothic, Gothic novel, hidden worlds, Ireland's past, Irish folklore, kings, legend, magic, monsters, queens, revenge, strange worlds, wise women, Witchcraft, Witches, wizards, wonder, writers, writing. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

Lady Blackthorn’s moans of pain reached her, as she opened the door. The sound of her friend’s distress spurred the queen on, even as the pain in her own body roared.

   “Is it very bad?” The queen brushed her friend’s damp hair from her forehead.

   “Yes,” Iris’s eyes were wild with fear.” I have taken the herbs prescribed, but they did not work.”

   “We will form a healing circle,” the queen gestured to her ladies.

They joined hands and in the ancient language of their people, called on the spirits for help. The fire within Lady Blackthorn began to recede and her breathing slowed, as the magic did its work.

   “You should get some relief now,” the queen sat on the bed beside her. “I will stay with you a while, but I fear it may not be long as my own pains have started.”

   “Majesty!” One of the women exclaimed.

   “I am quite all right at the moment,” the queen brushed aside her worries. “I will call when I need your help. Now, run along and let us have a moment alone.”

When they left, the queen turned to her friend and asked.

   “Has your husband spoken to you about the changelings?”

   “I have thought of little else,” Iris gasped, as another pain tore through her body.

   “What are we to do?” The queen asked. “My heart aches so; I feel that I have already lost my child.”

   “My dear, we have known each other a lifetime, and we know what is in one another’s hearts,” A silent tear slid down Iris’s cheek.

   “How can we bear it?” The queen’s tears joined with those of her friend.

   “We have no choice. You are the queen and must lead by example. I am your friend, and I will not let you suffer alone.”

Those waiting in the hallway felt their hearts grow cold as the sound of the women’s sobbing reached them. It is unusual for elfin women to cry, and the sound signalled that something terrible was about to happen, but what it might be, they had no idea.

The wise women moved swiftly through the mortal world. There are no physical barriers for the elfin, and they can move through walls and solid structure as they wish. How many mortals have sensed their touch as they passed and shrugged it off as nothing, but a slight draught? The elfin also have the power to shape-shift and can take the form of animals such as deer and hares. The wise woman had no need to resort to such lengths and allowed the wind to carry them from place to place. The children Galten foretold of lived at opposite ends of the country and rather than split up, they decided to travel together. All wanted to be the first to see the children who would save their people.

Alice Wilson sank into the wheelchair the nurse held and sighed with relief.

   “I’ll take it from here,” the nurse assured her husband, John, who carried a suitcase and an assortment of bags.

Alice was relieved, now she was in the safety of the hospital and she relaxed as the elevator doors opened and she was steered towards the labour ward. She looked at the small group of women who stood watching as she passed. There was something odd about them, not frightening, but nevertheless strange.

Like Alice, Mary Dawson relaxed when she reached the hospital and she beamed as they passed the three, strangely dressed women in the foyer.

   “Good morning,” one of them said.

   “Good morning,” Mary beamed at them.

Her husband, following behind, wondered who she was talking too. He said nothing and thought it best not to ask.

By nightfall there were four new babies. To Alice and John Wilson, a daughter they named Juliet and whose red hair was the talk of the ward. To Mary and Bob Dawson, a son, Corey with pale skin and hair whiter than snow. At Bargamore the elves gathered at the castle and cheered when the announcement was read out that the queen had given birth to a daughter. Amber showed the signs of mortal blood from past generations in her fiery red hair. Lord and Lady Blackthorn had a son, Sabba, with the same pale colouring as his parents. In those first few minutes of life the fate of the four children, both elf and mortal, was bound together for forever.

Shadow Self- chapter two

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on July 10, 2020
Posted in: birdsong, hope faith God whispers heaven, Dwarfs, Eerie Places, Fairies, Fantasy, fiction, folklore, Goblins, Gothic, Ireland's past, Irish folklore, kings, magic, queens, wonder, writers. Tagged: , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

Juliet

Juliet rested her forehead on the cold glass of the car window. Her head ached and the jolting of the wheels on the uneven country roads did not help. The stress of the move was causing her pain. Her migraines started when she got worried or upset, usually around exam time.

   “Are you feeling any better, dear?” Her mother turned round in her seat.

   “Yes, mom, I’m ok,” Juliet lied, but she would never be ok again.

As far as she was concerned her life was over. Her parents lost their jobs over a year ago, and once their savings ran out, they could no longer pay the mortgage. To protect their home, they rented it out and decided to move in with her mother’s aunt, Maisie, who lived in the country. Aaron, her older brother, said the old manor house was haunted. Juliet knew he was trying to scare them, but it frightened Kim, her twelve-year-old sister, who went running to her mother in tears. Aaron was fine, Juliet fumed, and he got to stay behind with his friend Mike’s family, so he could finish his exams. This meant she would be alone in the wilds with just her sister for company. She tried to be brave, she really did, but it was hard leaving her friends and Rick, her boyfriend. Susie Jones, her arch enemy, would be prowling around him, and this added to her worries.

   “Sorry to hear your sad news,” Susie came up to her on the last day of school. “It won’t be the same without you. Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on Rick; make sure he doesn’t get up to any mischief.”

   “In your dreams, Jones,” Rick sneered, but despite his words, Juliet felt dark moths take flight in her stomach.

Susie was a beauty and used to getting her own way.

   “How long more, daddy?” Kim’s voice brought her back to the present.

   “A few more miles, princess,” her father said.

I wish I were as young and dumb as you, Juliet looked at her sister. Urged on by her mother, Kim had started to think of the move as some big adventure.

   “Why did you bring that thing with you?” Juliet poked at the tattered old bear Kim held.

   “Mr Snuggles always sleeps on my bed,” Kim said.

   “You are such a baby,” Juliet threw her eyes up to heaven.

   “I am not,” Kim pouted. “You bought all your stupid digging books.”

   “They’re not digging books, stupid. It’s called archaeology, don’t you know anything?”

Juliet was being mean, but she needed someone to take her miserable mood out on.

   “Stop it, Juliet,” her mother warned.

Kim was right. One of the few things Juliet brought with her was her books. Along with her computer and clothes, all she had in the world was packed in the trailer her father hired to move their stuff. The rest was in storage and her room, once the centre of her universe, was lost to her. Now, she might have to live forever with her mother’s crazy, old aunt. The woman could win medals when it came to eccentricity and at eighty-one, had all the charm of a bulldog chewing a wasp. It was Maisie who always said, not caring if Juliet heard, “that child is not a Wilson.”

   “Now, auntie,” her mother said. “Don’t be silly, red hair runs in the family.”

   “I’m not talking about the red hair,” her aunt replied. “There’s something else, something I can’t quite put my finger on.”

Her mother laughed, but it left Juliet with a strange sense of not quite fitting in with the rest of her family. To add to her misery, the dreams were back, and she had enough to worry her without them disturbing her sleep. They were always the same, the whisper of a name and a feeling of being abandoned. It would be worse now, living in that creepy old house under the disapproving stare of her grand-aunt, and with nothing to do.

   “You’ll find plenty to occupy you,” her father sensed her worries. “With your interest in the past there’s no knowing what treasure you could unearth in the attic or the old outbuildings.”

Yeah, Juliet thought, it will be a blast. What she did not know was the house had a secret. One that would help her uncover the reason she felt so different from everyone else. It would give her the first hint about those who were the cause of her confusion.

Shadow Self- chapter one

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on July 9, 2020
Posted in: birdsong, hope faith God whispers heaven, Dwarfs, Fairies, Fantasy, fiction, folklore, Goblins, Gothic, Ireland's past, Irish folklore, kings, legend, magic, queens, strange worlds, wonder. Tagged: , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

Corey Dawson

The wailing of a police siren woke Corey from a restless sleep. His heart thudded against his chest, as he listened to the sound of running feet and shouts of anger. Pushing aside his sleeping bag, he crawled to a gap in the cardboard wall and peeped out. The alleyway was lit by the flashing, blue lights, and he knew it was time to go. His knapsack served as a pillow, and he pulled it to him and started to pack his meagre belongings. With his sleeping bag rolled up, he was ready to leave. There was no need to worry about getting dressed, because in the strange, twilight world of the street-dweller, one slept in their clothes.

   As Corey emerged from the layers of cardboard that served as his sleeping place, he saw those who shared the pavement with him were packing. It is an unwritten rule among his kind, that once the police and authorities discovered where they sleep, it was time to move on. The small alleyway served them well in the harsh winter months. Situated behind office blocks, there were no residents to complain about the noise they made at night. Many of his fellow street-dwellers had mental health problems or turned to drugs and alcohol to help stave off the uselessness of their lives. They got very loud under the influence of their chosen poison. In the beginning Corey found this behaviour frightening, but he soon realised it was bluff; the noises they made were nothing more than a rage against their hopelessness. He saw the ravages the drink and drugs caused as bright-eyed young boys and girls faded before his eyes to husks of their former selves. Six times over the freezing, winter months he had woken to find the lifeless body of a friend lying stiff within their cardboard coffin.

   “Do you need a hand?” Corey knelt to help Old Tom, the oldest of the street-dwellers.

   “Thanks, lad,” the careworn features creased into a smile. “We should’ve known it was too good to last.”

The police finished their chase and came back up the alley with two handcuffed prisoners.

   “Time to move,” an officer said.

   The usual shouts and insults flew, as the street-dwellers, many resembling no more than bundles of rags, became frightened and tormented at the intrusion. Corey realised it could get out of hand and he did not relish the pain of a police baton on his head.

   “Sorry officer,” he walked to the front of the group. “We’ll be gone in a few minutes.”

The man’s eyes were hard as he looked at Corey.

   “Very well,” he waved his baton at the group. “Make sure they clean up this rubbish. I don’t want the place left like a dump.”

   “Yes, sir, I will,” Corey promised.

He gave a sigh of relief when the flashing blue lights blinked off and the sound of the car engines faded into the night.  

   “We should get going,” Old Tom sidled up to Corey.

   “Yes,” Corey smiled and looked at the group.

With the rubbish cleared away, all that remained was a lost and ragged bunch of life’s cast offs.

   “Where will we go, lad?” Old Tom asked.

The question startled Corey, and he was angry the others depended on him. He was the youngest of the group, and yet they looked up to him. His anger subsided, and he felt an ache rise from deep within him.

   “I know somewhere,” Corey said. “It’s a few miles outside of town, but we’d be safe.”

There were mutters of discontent, as those who called the streets home did not want to leave them.

   “It’s a long distance,” Corey said. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to come with me.”

   “I’ll come,” Old Tom said. “It’s years since I’ve seen the countryside; and I’d like a bit of peace and quiet.”

Others broke away from the group and moved closer to Corey.

   “A bus will take us to within a mile of the place,” he assured those who looked doubtful.

After a few more minutes of negotiations they reached a decision. Old Tom would go with him. Annie, in her fifties, wanted to go too. There were three others. Rasher aged fourteen, who had been homeless for three years. No one knew where his nickname came from, but he was very thin, as lean as a rasher of bacon. There was Stew; nineteen. Like the other boys, he had run away from a foster home, and Jamie who at twenty-six had the body of a man and the mind of a child.

He now had a new family of sorts; each one vulnerable and carrying their share of dark memories. Seventeen-year-old Corey must be a father to them, as he returned to the only place, he had ever been happy, home.

Shadow Self

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on July 8, 2020
Posted in: birdsong, hope faith God whispers heaven, books, Dwarfs, Fairies, Fantasy, fiction, folklore, Goblins, Irish folklore, kings, legend, magic, monsters, queens, wonder. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

Well, my friends, it is time to put aside the horror for now and bring back the magic into our lives. I have a story for you that transcends age and time. For those who believe in worlds beyond those of man, I invite to to come with me into the wilds of Ireland. To a place where time itself seems to draw breath in anticipation of the wonders of the hidden worlds. It is a place of myth and legend, of ruined castles and barren landscapes. Only a privileged few can see beyond the gnarled trees and rock shewn fields. Even on the sunniest day, the wind cries eerily through hidden tombs and secret passageways. But there is something there, deep within the earth another life continues as it has for thousand of years, but don’t take my word for it. Open your eyes and listen, as the tales of the past return and live again in the telling of this tale. Share with your loved ones, from eight to a hundred, if you believe in magic, you will accompany me on my journey. It begins now.

Shadow Self

PROLOGUE

Corey and Juliet sensed magic was dying long before they knew the truth. It was not a feeling, but an absolute certainty, born of that strange, secret knowledge teenagers have.  They had always known they were different, but not in the way the media portrays the typical teenager. They were not at odds with the world or desperately searching for their identities. No, they knew who they were; they just were not sure what they were. It was hard to explain, but it felt like something was missing from their lives. Had they known of one another’s existence it might have been easier, and they could have joined forces to aid one another in their quest for the truth. Corey was alone, his life unsettled and with no one to turn to, it was left to Juliet to voice her concerns. She was not adopted, because she drove her mother to the brink of madness on this until in utter frustration, the poor woman produced Juliet’s birth certificate. Her mother assured her she did not have a twin who died at birth, so this avenue was closed off to her forever. Yet even with these two major questions answered, there remained a dreadful longing Juliet could not explain. It was this, and the feeling of otherworldliness that distanced her from her family and those she loved. Her friends assured her it was normal to be this way. Most seventeen-year-olds have something that makes them feel removed from the rest of the world, and it was almost expected of them to feel different. Still, Juliet could not be persuaded. There was something beyond this real world and someone, a being she called her Shadow Self, who called to her. At times it frightened her and she imagined it to be some sort of ghost or supernatural creature that threatened her existence, but at other times she accepted without question the fleeting glimpses she caught from the corner of her eye. She was not influenced by the growing trends of genre in both book and film. If it turned out she was merely a vampire or werewolf it would be too easy. There was something different about her and she would not give up until she found out what it was.

   The course of her life and Corey’s changed the moment they were born, and this is where the story begins. It must start on the faithful morning seventeen years ago and be told through the eyes of those whose decisions, no matter how well intended, left the teenagers lost and confused.  

   Despite their determination to uncover the truth, they were unprepared for what they found, when the fates brought them together. It was one thing to suspect they were different to those around them, but terrifying to learn that they were not quite human, and a word that haunted their dreams since childhood, would change their lives forever.