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Shadow Self- chapter thirty-five

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on August 31, 2020
Posted in: birdsong, hope faith God whispers heaven, books, castles, changelings, Dwarfs, Eerie Places, elves, enemies, Fairies, Fantasy, fiction, folklore, Goblins, Gothic, prince, princess, revenge, scary, strange worlds, teenagers, wise women, Witchcraft, Witches, wizards, wonder, writers, writing, young adults. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

Corey and Juliet walked through the trees. They were both anxious to reach Biddy’s cottage.

The morning air was cold and the flickering light from the fire was a welcoming sight, as they walked up to the front door. Biddy opened it before they had the chance to knock.

   “I have been waiting for you,” she stood aside to let them in. “I made some tea and there’s cake if you’re hungry.”

They both asked for tea and cupped their hands around the mugs, glad of the warmth of the tea.  

   “You’ll be anxious to hear what I’ve learned,” she said after a moment’s silence.

They nodded and waited.

   “After I left you yesterday, I went in to the hidden world.”

   “I thought you were going up to the castle?” Corey said.

   “I was, the entrance to the hidden world is beneath the castle,” Biddy said. “I know what you’re thinking: that I’m a mad old woman who has nothing better to do than fill your heads with my nonsense.”

She held up a hand to still their protests. “It’s all right; I don’t blame you but tell me this. Is it madness to recognise reality? Anyway, I will explain what I can about the hidden world and let you decide for yourselves. The king gave me permission to tell you some of the facts; the rest is up to him.”

She spent the next hour or so telling them about the hidden world. They listened in awe as she described a place, they had heard about in fairy tales. Images of Bargamore, Claradon Faranord and the Ereban Forest swam in their heads, as they tried to envision the places she spoke of. Biddy’s gift for storytelling is unsurpassed, and her descriptions filled them with wonder.

   “I know it’s hard to take all this in,” she said. “You are modern children who know nothing beyond television and computers. Here, in this barren place, we are content to live alongside all sorts of creatures be they elf, fairy or even the dead. Though you might not want to believe it, the mortal and fairy world are entangled and interwoven more than you realise.”

   “When you say time slows down,” Corey asked. “What do you mean exactly?”

   “The Elfin can live for hundreds of years. It was rare for one of their race to die young until…” she let the words trail off.

   “Until what?” Juliet urged. “What were you going to say?”

   “The king will explain all that. It is not for me to speak of such things and its best you hear it from him.

Juliet felt beneath the table for Corey’s hand. Were the things the old woman saying true, they both wondered and if so, why did what seem wonderful a moment ago, now fills them with something akin to dread?

   “Aye,” Biddy said. “You feel it too. There’s something not right in the hidden world and I know the Erebans are plotting.”

 Before either of them could ask how she knew this, Biddy continued.

   “The Erebans are dreadful creatures. Well, you’ve seen that for yourself,” she nodded at Corey. “They are not just fearsome to behold, but they have great powers of darkness. Erebans are our boogiemen and there is not a child in the hidden world that does not fear them. No one is sure where they come from. No one has ever seen the Ereban young. Perhaps, they sprout from the earth like dark spores and do not come to life until mature. No one knows, but they are strange, savage beings. They poison the mind with terrible thoughts and eat away at the soul. Some have taken their own life and others they turn in to raving lunatics. They have the power to strip away man’s dreams and hopes and as the elfin say, once these are gone, there is nothing left. They have stay quiet up to now, but there is something in the air, a gathering of energy. I’ve sensed it over the past few weeks and it’s getting stronger.”

   “What do we do next?” Juliet tried to repress a shudder.

   “We wait,” Biddy said. “There’s nothing else we can do. Go back to your dig. Word will be sent when the time comes. I’ll come and fetch you when the king is ready.”

Corey and Juliet could not wait to be alone to talk about everything, but they didn’t want to leave the warmth of the kitchen. They were safe in the cottage. It cocooned them with its strange scent of herbs and though this was just their second visit, it was familiar.

   “Run along now,” Biddy stood and started to collect the mugs. “I have work to do.”

   “What if something happens and you can’t get to us?” Corey asked.

   “Then you’ll hear the bells. The fairy bells ring out at times. I heard them on the night of my mother’s death. Even though they resented her marriage, they could not let her passing go unmarked. Listen for the bells. If you hear them, come and find me.”

   “What do they sound like?” Juliet asked.

   “You’ll remember them. The memory of their sweetness will return once you hear them.”

The sun was high in the sky and the air felt much warmer when they stepped outside. Tabby, who was basking in the warmth, came over and rubbed against them. She jumped up on the fence and watched as they walked towards the trees. The slight breeze ruffled her fur as she raised her head and sniffed the air. Her mistress was right, there was something wrong. She hissed, drawing her lips back over pointed teeth. Then a stray leaf floated by and she forgot, for a moment, her feeling of dread.

Shadow Self-chapter thirty-four

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on August 28, 2020
Posted in: birdsong, hope faith God whispers heaven, books, castles, changelings, Dwarfs, Eerie Places, elves, enemies, Fairies, Fantasy, fiction, folklore, gloom, Goblins, Gothic, hags, hidden worlds, Ireland's past, Irish folklore, kings, legend, magic, monsters, prince, princess, queens, revenge, scary, teenagers, wise women, Witchcraft, Witches, wizards, wonder, writers, writing, young adults. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

   The day was fast becoming surreal for Amber and Sabba. After the meeting with Mr Thomas, they were left confused and a little scared. They thought about closing the offices and going home, but Pierce Nolan phoned to say he would be in that afternoon and he sounded irate. It did not take a genius to guess that the call from the archaeologist had upset him.

   “I am really bored,” Amber picked at her nails to hide the tears in her eyes.

   “Me too,” Sabba kept his head down and pretended to read.

Something strange was happening and they needed to be back in the hidden world. At lunchtime they were in no mood to eat, so took a walk along the village street.

   “Oh, nice one,” a boy came up to them and glared at Amber. “You got me to carry the lap top all the way here and you were coming yourself.”

He thrust the bag at her, as Amber shied back.

   “I am sorry, I do not know what you are talking about,” she looked from the boy to Sabba.

   “I charged it in the café,” he said. “But I’m not carrying it all the way back.”

   “Stand back,” Sabba ordered the boy.

The two boys stood face to face. Amber grabbed Sabba’s arm and pulled him away.

   “I know what is happening,” she whispered, as they stood waiting on the pavement.

The boy was watching them.

   “There has been a mistake,” Amber gave him her sweetest smile. “You are with the dig up at the castle, yes?”

   “I am,” the boy muttered.

   “We met your Mr Thomas this morning and he made the same mistake. I am Amber and this is Sabba. Look at us,” she urged.

The boy slipped the handle of the bag over his shoulder and walked closer to them.

   “I am told we are like people on your dig,” Amber said. “But we are not them, I assure you.”

   “Now that you come to mention it,” the boy narrowed his eyes. “There is a subtle difference. Wow, that is so weird,” he laughed and held out his hand to Sabba. “Sorry about that, I thought you were taking me for a fool.”

   “No problem,” Sabba shook his hand. “It is the second time today that has happened.”

   “I’m Steven. Juliet, the girl who looks like you,” he said to Amber. “She asked me to charge her laptop. She said she wasn’t coming into the village today and I thought she’d just used me to carry it.”

They stayed talking for a few more minutes before saying their goodbyes.

   “It’s uncanny,” Steven called after them. “Wait until you meet Juliet and Corey. You won’t believe your eyes.”

Neither of them spoke, as they made their way back to the office. Amber did not want to share her feeling of foreboding or tell him about the pain that was gnawing at her gut. The arrival of Pierce Hogan was a welcome distraction, as he floundered in the door in his usual state of fluster. He spent the next few minutes complaining about the call from Ger Thomas and the nerve of the man.

   “The sooner they knock that accursed place the better,” he raged.

   “Is the castle cursed?” Amber asked. “I would love to hear about that.”

   “I haven’t time to tell you about that now,” he tightened the knot in his tie. “I have to go and meet that Thomas fellow. Show willing if nothing else. I don’t want him reporting back to the historical society that I was unhelpful.”

   “Will you be back later?” Sabba asked.

   “No, you can lock up,” he rubbed his forehead. “All this upset is giving me one of my migraines.”

   “What do you make of that?” Sabba asked when he had gone. “I have never heard mention of a curse.”

   “Brag would have told us about it if there was one. You know how he loves to embellish all the folklore.”

   “What is the matter,” Sabba asked. “You are not upset by Hogan and his stupid story, are you?”

   “No, it is Juliet and Corey, our shadow selves. I cannot stop thinking about them and the reason they are here. We must call on Biddy and find out what she knows.”

Shadow Self-chapter thirty-three

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on August 26, 2020
Posted in: birdsong, hope faith God whispers heaven, books, castles, changelings, Dwarfs, Eerie Places, elves, enemies, Fairies, Fantasy, fiction, folklore, gloom, Goblins, Gothic, Gothic novel, hags, hidden worlds, Ireland's past, Irish folklore, kings, legend, magic, monsters, prince, princess, queens, revenge, strange worlds, teenagers, wise women, Witchcraft, Witches, wizards, wonder, writers, writing, young adults. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

The steps leading down from the Ereban castle were steep and menacing. Through a series of different manoeuvres, which included jumping, sliding, and falling, Hack managed to reach the bottom. His breath came in small gasps as he ran through the trees, the branches tearing at his clothes. Dark beings that inhabited the forest, watched as he ran by, but did nothing to stop him. The cry to give chase had not yet gone out. The fairy lights still glimmered within the dark castle; he had a few minutes start before they realised, he was missing. He stopped when he reached the stream, and his heart leapt, when he realised there was no way across. Stones that the Ereban took in his stride, were too far apart for Hack’s little legs. He backed away as the water hags came out from beneath waves and began to climb up on to the bank. Their condition sickened him.  

   “Have no fear, little man,” one of the hags said. “We will help you to cross.”

   “Why would you do that?” Hack asked.

   “We are not here by choice,” she said. “We will help you to escape.”

Hack watched as the hags lay face down in the water making a bridge of their wasted bodies.

   “Hurry, little man,” the hag called. “Your pursuers will soon be here.”

Hack took a deep breath and ran across their backs. With every footfall he felt their bones beneath his feet. The wound in his back still bled profusely and the loss of blood was making him faint. He fell on to the ground when he reached the opposite side of the river.

   “You must get up, little man,” the hag urged.

   “I cannot,” Hack shook his head, trying to clear his vision.

   “You must, if they capture you, they will kill you.”

Hack shivered and tried to rise, but he was weak from loss of blood.

   “Poor little man,” the water hag climbed up and laid a wet, cold hand on his forehead. “You will soon be a prisoner like us.”

Hack’s eyes became hazy and he tried to focus on her.

   “If I had tears, I would cry,” the hag said. “For yours is the first warm touch I have felt in decades.”

They both jumped when the sound of the hunting horn sounded, and they knew Hack’s pursuers would soon be upon him. The fairies swooped down and tried to lift Hack to his feet, but this was beyond them. Even though there were thousands of them, the dwarf was heavy.

   “Go and tell Lord Fabien,” General Tromp ordered one of his soldiers. “We will stay and try to hold the Erebans back.”

“What news?” Lord Fabien asked when the fairy flew out from the trees.

   “The dwarf is free, majesty,” she said. “But he is injured and has fallen by the river. General Tromp and the others have stayed with him.”

Fabien cursed his decision at not informing those in the other lands. The elves were strong, and the slight figure of the dwarf would be easy for them to carry. It was too late now, and time was short. The howls of a dog stopped him in his musing, and he knew Berrin wished to make amends for his failure to stop the dwarf.

   “Go and bring him back,” Lord Fabien ordered.

Berrin reached the dwarf in seconds.

   “Climb,” the water hag urged Hack, grabbing him by the back of his shredded tabard and helping him on to the dog’s back.

Hack buried his fingers deep into the course hair and held on as tight as he could.

   “How could you do something so stupid?” Lord Fabien asked as the dog deposited the dwarf as his feet.

   “I wanted to find out what the secret about the princess and the young lord,” Hack gasped as the fairies tended to his wounds.

   “What nonsense,” Fabien laughed. “There is no secret and you will speak no more of this.”

   “I think there is, sire,” Hack said and despite his wounds the news reporter in him stirred.

   “I said there is not. Do you understand?”

   “But, sire,” Hack envisioned the screaming headlines. “Horror of Night in Ereban Castle.”

   “Not a word,” Fabien roared. “Or you will be banished.”

In the few seconds it took for him to shake the dirt from his tabard, the fairies had disappeared, and he was alone at the crossover. Feeling hard done by after his adventure and the order not to publish it, he sighed and picked up the note that cause all the upset.

   “Did you see the fairy’s face when the dwarf spoke about the secret?” Perius asked General Keyos.

   “Indeed, sire,” the general smiled. “The hags are right after all and there is still much to learn.”

   “Then let it begin,” Perius nodded. “I have waited centuries to take my rightful place as the ruler of the hidden world. Both mortal and elf will soon tremble at the mention of my name. I will teach them the true meaning of fear.”

Shadow Self-chapter thirty

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on August 19, 2020
Posted in: birdsong, hope faith God whispers heaven, books, castles, changelings, Dwarfs, Eerie Places, elves, enemies, Fairies, Fantasy, fiction, folklore, Goblins, Gothic, hags, hidden worlds, Ireland's past, Irish folklore, kings, legend, magic, prince, princess, queens, revenge, scary, teenagers, wise women, Witchcraft, Witches, wizards, wonder, writers, writing, young adults. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

Biddy was breathless from the climb and in no mood for the stares from the brightly coloured elfin women.

   “Are you unwell,” the captain asked, as they paused outside a silver panelled door.

   “No, I am quite all right,” Biddy assured him. “Just a bit winded from the climb.

Biddy looked straight ahead as he led her towards the king and queen. She had heard of Queen Heather’s beauty in her mother’s stories, but to see her in the flesh was something else. Her red waist-length hair glowed like fire and put the room’s beautiful surroundings to shame. Her skin was pale with a touch of rose in each cheek, but her eyes were the most startling thing of all. Bright green, they sparkled with life, but there was something else too, a haunted look that marred the light within. It was the queen who spoke first.

   “Get our guest a chair,” she ordered one of the guards.

Biddy nodded her thanks, as she sat down on a soft cushion.

   “A drink, perhaps?” The queen suggested.

   “Thank you, your majesty.” Biddy accepted.

A small table was placed beside her chair and she was handed a silver goblet filled with wine as red as the queen’s hair. She sipped, expecting a sour taste. To her surprise the drink was sweet and warm with a hint of berries.

   “It has been quite a journey for you,” the queen smiled.

   “It has indeed, your majesty,” Biddy tried to ignore the king’s frown, and concentrated on his wife. “I wouldn’t have come here if I didn’t think it urgent.”

   “Tell us what is so urgent that you should dare cross the boundary into our world?” The king’s eyes were hard when he spoke.

   “I wouldn’t be here now if I didn’t think it necessary, and the boundary is of your choosing.”

   “It was not an easy choice,” the king’s eyes flashed. “We did not abandon the upper world lightly. Your mother had filled your head with stories that do not mirror the truth.”

   “My mother taught me facts,” Biddy said. “She told me that you chose to go in to hiding.”

   “Chose,” the king’s laughed. “We had little choice. Let me explain to you, old woman. In ancient times fairies, elves and dwarfs lived in harmony with mortals. Their worlds remained separate, but they respected one another’s boundaries. It is your so-called modern world that sent us in to hiding. We became creatures of mirth to you mortals, to be trapped for the price of a pot of gold. We are creatures of light and air. Can you imagine what it is like for us to spend our life below ground? We belong in the forest, beside streams and in silent hollows, but modern man will not allow that. He tears down the trees and sends not only the fairy folk, but the animals in to hiding.”

   “My dear,” the queen interrupted. “Our guest came here for a reason.”

Biddy spent the next few minutes telling them about Juliet and Corey. Lady Blackthorn drew closer to where she sat when she mentioned her son.

   “Is he well?” She asked.

   “Corey?” Biddy smiled. “He’s a fine boy and the image of your young lord.”

   “The girl, Juliet?” The queen got up from her throne and walked down to join her friend.

   “She is beautiful, majesty,” Biddy assured her. “She is like you in many ways.”

The queen and Lady Blackthorn hugged one another.

   “So, you have guessed?” Galten asked.

   “At first, their looks fooled me,” Biddy said. “Then I realised my mistake. My mother told me about the sickness that weakened the elfin.”

   “We had no choice,” the queen’s eyes shone with tears. “It was a sacrifice that we had to make.”

   “I understand that, majesty,” Biddy said. “It was a very brave thing to do.”

   “Well, now that you know our secret,” the king said. “What is it you want from us; gold to buy your silence?”

   “I want nothing from you,” Biddy stood up. “I came here to warn you, that’s all.”

   “Warn us,” the queen put a restraining hand on Biddy’s arm. “Please sit down. My husband forgets his manners. You speak of a warning,” the queen knelt down beside her. “Are the children in danger?”

   “Grave danger, majesty,” Biddy said.

She told them Corey’s story about the Ereban, and the fairy dog that came to his rescue.

   “I knew they were plotting something,” the king said. “They will spread their venom about the changelings, and make it appear that we have been fooling our people for all these years.”

   “But the people will not believe them. We can explain why we had to do it,” the queen said.

   “The Erebans are powerful, majesty,” Galten said. “They can steal into the minds of those who would believe, and plant seeds that would flourish into poison thoughts.”

   “We have known enemies in the past,” the king said. “We can deal with them.”

   “That may be, majesty,” Galten agreed. “But never before have they been armed with such tools. If the elfin believe them, the Erebans could take over the hidden world.”

   “We cannot allow that to happen,” the king said. “We must strike before they do.”

   “The only way to do this is to tell your people what was done to save their race,” Galten said. “But first you must tell your children, both changeling and elfin and hope they understand.”

Shadow Self-chapter twenty-nine

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

It was easy to understand why the Crossover had got its name. The boundary: the line dividing the Ereban forest from the other lands, is like comparing day to night. The dark shadow of the trees falls across the road, and not even the air vents cast any light into that dark place. Hack stopped and listened for a moment. There was nothing other than the sound of birds and the rustling in the bushes, as creatures foraged for food. Still, he could not afford to take a chance, so he moved on tip toe, wincing as his shoes made small crunching noises. A shadow fell across his path and blocked the light. Two enormous paws appeared, and he traced the shape upwards until he came face to face with blazing, red eyes. Beast and dwarf stood face to face for a moment until Hack sighed and said.

    “I am here on the king’s business, so you must let me pass.”

The fairy dog moved its giant head from side to side studying the small figure before him and gnashed its pointed teeth. It growled and shook its head. The dogs are the only creatures in the hidden world that have no voice. A smack from the dog’s paw sent him sprawling down on to the ground, and it was this same paw that held him in place. Other large shapes moved around him, and he heard the growls of the other dogs. I know what they are doing, Hack thought, they are sending word to Lord Fabien to see if what I said is true.

   “Listen,” Hack gasped when the others had run off. “I am finding it hard to breath with your paw on my chest. Let me up. I promise not to move.”

The dog’s face descended until he was staring into the red eyes again, but the pressure on his chest lifted. Hack stood and shook the dust from his tabard.

   “There was no need for that,” his said, as he felt along his ribs and glared at the dog.

It growled and went back to its grooming, all the while keeping an eye on the dwarf. Despite its great size, Hack mused, it is still a dog.

Hack let his eyes roam along the hedgerows. The dog cocked his ears, as he saw the dwarf pick up a stick from out of a tangle of branches. Its interest was piqued now, and it watched as the dwarf stripped away some of the dead leaves.

   “It is a nice stick, is it not?” Hack made a move, pretending to throw, and the dog arched its back ready to follow.

. Hack stood up on his toes and threw as hard as his small arms allowed. The stick sailed over the hedges and the shape of the fairy dog passed over his head, like as dark cloud as it followed. Hack ran, his feet hardly touching the ground, as he headed for the forest. The ground shook as the dog, realising he had been duped, took off after him.  

   “Not so big now, are you doggie?” He laughed from the shadow of the trees. “Wait until all your furry friends hear how the big fairy dog was outwitted by a dwarf.”

Hack knew the dog could not cross over the boundary, not unless ordered to do so by its master.

   “That is right,” Hack said, as the hair on the dog’s back rose. “Growl all you want. See if I care.”

    The Ereban forest is a dark and fearsome place and though Hack knew this, the need to prove himself overcame his fear. No one understood what it was like to be a dwarf in a world of elves and fairies. The elves are known for their beauty and magic. The fairies, whose colours glistened brighter than jewels, make him feel like nothing special. They would have to sit up and take notice when he solved the mystery of the princess and Lord Sabba.

   The fairy dog started to bark; the sound resounding like the clanging of hundreds of church bells. 

   “Stop it, stupid dog,” Hack shouted, but his voice went unheard above the noise of the barking.

The sound made his head swim and the ground went from beneath him. He opened his eyes as the trees swept past him in a dark flash. He blinked and tried to struggle free from whatever held him. A resounding slap on the top of his head stunned him.

   “Stay still, dwarf,” the voice rumbled like thunder.

Hack felt tears prick his eyes, and he shook his head to clear his vision. He was carried through the trees; his body dangling under the arm of an Ereban. His captor picked him up from behind, so Hack was lying sideways and able to see around him, as they moved deeper into the forest.

   “Please…” his plea earned him another slap on the head, and he thought it wiser to keep quiet.

He had never seen an Ereban up close before. In the past, their dark shapes were the things children whispered about, but no one ever expected to see one, except in a nightmare. The arm around his waist was hard, as though made solely of bone. The stench from its body was nauseating. It smelt sickly-sweet like fresh cut earth or blood. No, worse, Hack thought, it smells of decay. It moved quickly, the weight of its burden did nothing to slow it down.

They crossed large streams, the Ereban leaping from stone to stone. Hack saw the hideous shapes that sat along the banks. Women, or things that might once have been so, clambered from the water to get a better look. Their bodies wasted to the point of emaciation, ribs sticking through skin that seemed too thin to hold back the bones advance. All had long, white hair that grew in a tangle of confusion and when they noticed his searching eyes, they used this to cover their nakedness. Their faces were long, the mouth and nose quite normal, but the eyes were the most terrifying. They were oblong and covered over two thirds of the face. Hack felt his resolve falter as he saw reflected in each of the huge orbs a hopelessness he could never have imagined. He knew he was witnessing what the mortals spoke of as Hell.

Shadow Self-chapter twenty-seven

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

Biddy paused to catch her breath and looked up at the grey sky. The clouds were so low and swollen with rain they seemed within arm’s reach. It was many years since she had last attempted the climb to the castle, and she had forgotten how steep it was. She sat down on a large rock and looked up at the jutting towers of the dark silhouette above her head. The last time she entered the world of the Elfin she had been with her mother. Even then the reception they received was not a good one. Her mother left the elfin world a day before her eighteenth birthday. Biddy knew the aging process for the elfin slowed at their coming of age Still, her mother’s decision to leave did not altogether save her from the heartache to come. She aged much slower than her husband, and that was her curse for marrying a mortal. Her mother did die as the headstone proclaimed in her hundred and twelfth year. She might have lived longer if the death of her husband had not broken her heart. Being half elfin meant that Biddy, like her mother, would age much slower than her father. Today, she felt all her hundred and three years, as she sat mopping her brow.

 The entrance to the world below is on the north side of the castle. This area never gets much sun and since mortals love the light as much as the elfin, they tend to shy away from this shadowy place. Everything was done to discourage the curious. Gnarled, twisted trees line the steep hill; wild brambles grow between the trunks, ready to tear at the clothing of any intruder. At the summit, six huge stones, weathered by time, stand like rheumatic fingers, the hands raised to repel any intruders who dared approach. These silent sentinels are the last thing one encounters before reaching the ivy-covered entrance to the cave.

      Biddy was panting when she reached the summit, and she leaned against one of the huge rocks. In the distance, the ocean looked like a black line against the greyness of the day. The air was still, too still. Despite the great height of the hill, there was no whistling of wind, and no cawing from the crows in the walls of the castle. It seemed that nature itself was holding its breath in anticipation of what would happen when she pulled aside the curtain of ivy. Squaring her shoulders, she stepped into the cave. It was cold here, and she stood for a moment to let the cool air wash over her. The only sound came from the slow dripping of water. With shuffling feet, she descended deeper into the darkness. To steady herself, she kept one hand on the wall of the cave. The rocks were slimy, and she shivered in revulsion, as her fingers encountered the softness of moss. Her heart pounded against her ribs and her breathing echoed off the listening walls. She could not remember how long it took to reach the fairy world. She kept going, her process slow as the ground beneath her sloped further, until her feet went from under her. One moment she was feeling in front of her with the toe of her boot, the next she went sprawling down on to the dusty ground, as her foot encountered nothing but air. At this precise moment the alarm bells sounded, and a small light appeared in the darkness. Its glow was bright enough for her to see the sharp spear pointed at her face and the angry, glaring eyes of its owner.

   “Go back, mortal,” the dwarf said. “You have no right to be here.”

Biddy stood up and shook the dirt from her skirt.

   “I said, go back,” the dwarf jabbed the point of the spear at her. “You will not get much further mortal. Help is on the way.”

   “Don’t you remember me, Roak?” Biddy asked. “I am Petals daughter.”

Roak, the Guardian of the Cave, held the lamp higher and squinted up at her.

   “I came here with my mother many years ago to visit with my grandparents,” Biddy said, as the thundering began in the darkness.

She leaned against the wall of the cave as the knights appeared. A line of archers, their bows raised, ready to strike, surrounded her. Beyond them, dozens of dwarves toddled with shields held high and spears ready for battle. She read the question in the elfin eyes as they met, not with the army of mortals they had imagined, but an old woman, cowering against the rocks.

   “She says she is Petals daughter,” Roak said, to one of the elfin.

   “You have no business here,” one of the knights said. “Turn around mortal or feel the sting of my arrow.”

   “I have no intention of turning around,” Biddy said. “I am half elfin and I demand to see the king.”

   “You cannot make such demands,” he laughed. “You have no rights here.”

   “I demand in the memory of my mother,” Biddy knew the elfin law well.

Though her mother was exiled from her people, she still had to right to return once in every decade to visit her loved ones.

   “Send a message to the king. Tell him I am here to speak for those who are called the shadow self.”

The knight whispered something to the elf beside him that sent him running back into the darkness. They waited in silence, until the soldier returned and whispered the king’s answer.

   “It would seem that the king wishes to see you,” the knight said. “Follow us.”

Biddy followed, praying she would not lose her footing again.   It was a relief when the dot of light appeared. She had to shield her eyes as they moved into the brightness and beauty of the world beneath the earth. Up ahead the castle of Bargamore glowed against the earthen sky, and she bit her lip when she saw the number of steps she needed to climb. As though reading her mind, the knight called over his shoulder.

   “I will assist you in the climb, ancient one.

   “Really,” Biddy huffed. “You’re probably older than I am, so less of the ancient one, if you please.”

   “You may well be right,” he turned and smiled at her.

Biddy felt her cheeks flames as her stomach did somersaults, I am a silly old fool, she thought, but it had to be said, the elfin men were beautiful.

Shadow self-chapter twenty-six

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on August 12, 2020
Posted in: birdsong, hope faith God whispers heaven, books, castles, changelings, Dwarfs, Eerie Places, elves, enemies, Fairies, Fantasy, fiction, folklore, Goblins, Gothic, hags, hidden worlds, Ireland's past, Irish folklore, kings, legend, magic, monsters, prince, princess, queens, revenge, scary, strange worlds, teenagers, wise women, Witches, wizards, wonder, writers, writing, young adults. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

Biddy felt her hackles rising; something was wrong. The youngsters were not as talkative or as boisterous as usual, but she put their strange mood down to the greyness of the sky. Elfin, like mortals are creatures of light, and the overhanging clouds tend to put a damper on them. Still, Tabby had known them for years and she reacted in such a way to strangers.

   “Sit down,” Biddy said. “I have to feed the chickens. There is cake in the larder and there’s apple juice if you are thirsty. You know where it is,” she picked up a small basin full of rind and bits of stale bread.

The excuse of feeding the chickens was a ruse, so she could get her thoughts in order. As she scattered the food, she wondered what made the cat react in such a way.

   “I’m getting old,” she sighed. “There’s no other explanation. I am losing my powers. It worries me when the cat recognises before I do, that something is wrong.”

Biddy has the gift of second sight, as she was the offspring of an elfin mother and mortal father. Her eyes brighten. Of course, that is what’s wrong with the youngsters.

Corey and Juliet were sitting side by side whispering when she opened the cottage door. They jumped apart and sit up straight in their chairs as she approached.

   “Not hungry?” She looked down at the empty table.

   “We are a bit,” Corey said. “But we thought we’d wait for you.”

   “That was thoughtful,” Biddy eased her aching bones into a chair. “Be a good boy and fetch the cake for me.”

He looked in confusion at the three doors lining the room

   “Sit down,” Biddy said. “I’ll fetch it myself.”

They sat in silence, as she uncovered the fruit cake and poured the juice in to three glasses.

   “Go on, eat,” she said. “It won’t poison you.”

Breaking off a large piece of the cake, she popped it into her mouth. Corey picked up his slice and bit it.

   “It’s delicious,” he said as his teeth sank into sweet fruits and bits of nuts.

   “It is,” Juliet agreed.

   “Good,” Biddy drank from her goblet. “Now that we have established that, perhaps you’d care to tell me who you are?”

   “Yeah, sorry about that,” Corey blushed. “We didn’t mean to try and fool you. “It’s just that we’re here looking for answers and since you seemed to recognise us…” his voice trailed off. “Perhaps, if we told you our stories, you would understand,” he said. “Juliet and I met for the first time yesterday, but something drew us together. Will you listen to what we have to say?”

   “I’m listening,” Biddy said.

For the next hour they shared their stories about their life and the strange things they both had seen.

   “It was the one word that brought us together,” Corey said. “Culdoplin, I’ve heard that name whispered in my dreams and so has Juliet.”

Juliet told her about her shadow self, the girl who looked exactly like here.

   “I’ve never seen anyone who looked like me, but I saw the monster dog and the Thing,” Corey added.

   “What are you talking about child?” Biddy interrupted.

   Corey told her about the alley and the things he had seen.

   “A fairy dog sent to protect you,” Biddy nodded.

   “It looked more like a monster,” Corey said. “It scared me to death.”

   “They’re big, but harmless to the innocent. I could never keep a dog because of them. They see the fairy dogs running wild and take off after them never to return.”

   “So, you believe in the fairies?” Juliet asked.

   “I am part elfin, my mother married a mortal,” Biddy said. “The Thing you saw was an Ereban.”

   “What’s an Ereban?” Juliet asked.

   “Keep your voice down, child,” Biddy shushed her. “The skies are overcast and there’s no telling where they might be. Erebans are the worst part of ourselves, be we elf or mortal,” Biddy said. “They are born of our worst traits and thrive on fear and chaos. They roam the world by night. That is when they are their strongest. They creep through the cracks in our minds and spread their venom in nightmares.”

Juliet shivered and moved her chair closer to Corey.

   “Why would one of them come after me?” Corey asked.

   “It’s never been known before, but there is something stirring and it’s not just you who needs answers.” Biddy stood. “It’s time to go, there’s work to be done.”

   “But you haven’t told us anything,” Juliet said.

   “I’ll walk to castle with you,” Biddy said. “There is someone I must consult. Come back in the morning. I might have answers for you then.”

   “Will you come over to my tent when the others are asleep?” Juliet asked Corey when Biddy left them.

   “No problem,” he said. “I doubt if I will sleep tonight.”

It was not a night for being alone, when they knew the truth about the Things roaming the darkness.

Shadow Self-chapter twenty-three

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on August 6, 2020
Posted in: birdsong, hope faith God whispers heaven, books, castles, changelings, Dwarfs, Eerie Places, elves, enemies, Fairies, Fantasy, fiction, folklore, gloom, Goblins, Gothic, hags, hidden worlds, Ireland's past, Irish folklore, kings, legend, magic, prince, princess, queens, revenge, strange worlds, teenagers, wise women, Witchcraft, Witches, wizards, wonder, writers, writing, young adults. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

The meadow at the edge of Claradon is a training ground. Amber and Sabba stopped to watch as the young cubs jumped and climbed their way across the assault course. Their red coats gleamed with health and they seemed to move with winged feet, as they soared over the jumps. It was a magical sight, but the couple knew what they saw was vital to the fox’s survival. In the centre of the course, Flora, the most senior of all skulk, barked orders at the young cubs, as she ran them through their paces. Like the Elfin, she knew too well how important this training was. She pushed her pupils to the limit until the pads of the feet hurt and their tongues hung from their panting mouths. The cubs complained of this harsh treatment to their parents, but to no avail. They, unlike their children, knew the value of her teachings and how one day it could save their life. Flora was not a cruel animal, but she vowed, when she was first offered the job by Mr and Mrs Furze, that she would never lose one of her troops to the hands of a mortal. Her love for those in her care spurred her on, and the dreadful memory that woke her howling from her sleep, as the hunting horn sounded, and she was reminded of the death of her parents.

   “They look well,” Amber said, when the old fox ambled over to where they stood.

   “They are coming along, Princess,” Flora nodded. “I think they are the best I have ever trained.”

Amber and Sabba knew little other that what they heard about the use of foxes in battle. In olden days they served as mounts for the dwarfs during times of unrest, and were as strong and swift as any war horse.

   “We must go,” Sabba said.

   “Stay safe,” the fox bowed her head and ran back to where her charges had taken advantage of her absence.

The glare from the waterfall at the edge of the sacred lake was blinding. Tiny beads of light skimmed across the surface of the water and glistened like diamonds. The teenagers sank down and watched the different life forms that lived and worked around the lake. The fairies were the most prominent, as they flew in swarms collecting water to feed the thirsty flowers growing in abundance around the three lands. In the summer months geese and swans flew in from the mortal world and made their nests by the lake, secure in the knowledge that their young would be safe.

   “Hello,” Amber called to a small figure at the other side of the lake.

He stopped what he was doing and began toddling over as fast as his little legs allowed.

   “Princess,” his cheeks glowed from his exertions. “What a treat. Yes, indeed, and the young lord too.”

   “How are you, Brag?” Sabba motioned him to sit beside them.

   “I am wonderful,” he plonked himself down on the grass. “Thank you for asking and there is no need to ask how either of you are,” he smiled at Amber. “Our princess grows more beautiful by the day and as for you, young lord. Well, you have to be the handsomest elf in all of Bargamore.”

   “You are a rogue, Brag,” Amber laughed.

   “That well may be, my princess,” he smiled. “But I am an honest rogue.”

Of all the dwarfs in Claradon, Brag was their favourite. He was kind, gentle and a great storyteller. He regaled them with tales of past battles and legends of long ago, and they never tired of his stories. Brags job was one of the most important in all the three lands. He was the Watcher of the Wells. Since the time of the sickness, it became important to check the drinking water for signs of infection. He took samples every morning from the numerous wells that dotted the land and from the Sacred Lake, to make sure there was nothing there that could cause infection.

   “I have heard strange stories about you two,” he looked from Amber to Sabba. They say you are going up into the mortal world every day.”

   “It is true, I am afraid,” Amber sighed.

   “You know the risk you are taking, princess?” Brag was astounded by her candid reply.

   “I know, but there are reasons for our actions.”

   “Reasons, eh?” The dwarf raised his bushy eyebrows. “Very well, I will take your word for it.”

   “I have stiff competition today,” Amber looked towards the lake, where an elfin woman was gathering wildflowers.

   “Hello, Dawn,” Brag called.

The woman came over and bowed to Amber and Sabba. Her hair was the same colour as the princess’s.  

   “I trust you are well, princess?” Dawn asked.

   “Very well,” Amber smiled up at her. “How are your children?”

   “They are my greatest joy,” despite her words there was sadness behind Dawn’s smile.

   “I am pleased for you,” Amber felt uncomfortable under the woman’s searching gaze.

Dawn bid them good day and they watched as she made her way through the grass, her green gown billowing in the slight breeze.

   “She always seems so sad,” Amber said, “I do not like the way she stares at me.”

   “Her sadness is nothing more than a terrible longing to be back with her own kind.” Brag said.

He spoke without thinking and left Amber and Sabba puzzled by his words. 

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 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.