Shadow Self-chapter sixteen

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

 Juliet pulled the covers up to her chin and looked towards the window. Something strange was happening, and she had no idea what it was, but she sensed there was danger, out there, in the darkness. It was proving to be another restless night, and she would be exhausted in the morning. The comforting glow of the computer screen helped to allay her fears a little, and when she heard the familiar ping of an incoming message, she sat up. It was from Corey. She read what he had written and felt her heart ache, as his story unfolded. His words echoed all the things she tried to keep hidden. He told her about his life, how he felt removed from everyone else and the terrible longing to find out the truth. That is, it, Juliet thought, I am taking a chance. Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she wrote.

      Ok, here is what is happening. I am interested in archaeology and it is just some weird coincidence, but my teacher was offered a dig at a castle called Culdoplin. It is short notice, but we must leave tomorrow.  I told Mr Thomas, he is leading the dig by the way, that you are my cousin and want to come along. I am not sure that I have made the right decision yet, but anyway he said you can. I am attaching the map of where it is. I don’t know where you’re travelling from, I think the best place to meet is at the station at Brittlestown. If we meet up an hour or so before the train, we can exchange information about ourselves, so Mr Thomas is not suspicious. If you do turn out to be a weirdo, I can have you arrested. Brittlestown is the final part of the journey and about an hour away from the village of Ballibrock. The castle is on the outskirts of the village. You will need a sleeping bag, but they supply tents and food. The dig should last for about four weeks, but it may be longer. Email me the minute you get this and let me know what you want to do.

Corey looked up at the ceiling and thought of those who slept overhead. Would they manage without him for that length of time? He bit his lip and felt his stomach spasm at the thought of not being able to go with Juliet. He had to find out the reason for the dream and the strange things he saw the night before. The others survived on the streets for years; they would be fine without him. He placed his fingers on the keys and began to type. Pressing the send button, he smiled; aware he had sealed his fate.

They were sad to see him go. Annie and Tom felt Corey needed the change after his months of hard work, and they had enough to keep the house going. His sudden decision to go on the dig was no surprise to those who were used to the comings and goings of the street-dwellers.

Corey leaned out of the train window and waved until he could no longer see his family. They all insisted on coming to see him off, and it turned in to an emotional parting as Jamie started to sniffle.

 He sat back in his seat and smiled as the train picked up speed, and his stomach flipped when he thought of what lay ahead. There were few passengers, and this meant he could stow his sleeping bag and knapsack on the opposite seat. The journey would take over three hours, and Annie had packed him some sandwiches and a drink in case he got hungry. His sleep was disturbed since his first sighting of the Thing and the Monster Dog. The nights now held a new and more threatening terror than he had ever known on the streets. The rocking of the train relaxed him, and he closed his eyes and listened to the whispers from the wheels as they clackity-clacked. To his tired brain they seemed to be saying “going back, going back, going back,” and he did not realise that he was whispering the words along with them. Juliet would get there twenty minutes before him; she informed him in one the dozens of emails that whizzed back and forth between them throughout the night. She would be waiting on the platform when his train pulled in. He asked her how he would recognise him, and her reply still puzzled him. Look for someone who looks as though her head is on fire. 

He woke with a jolt, and realised they were now deep in the heart of the countryside. He shuffled closer to the window and looked out at the strange, unfamiliar landscape speeding by. He had looked up the area on his computer and read a little about its history. None of the pictures on the screen prepared him for what he saw. The land was covered with huge stones, some long and flat, reminding him of ancient tombs. Others were standing, and he knew from his research they dated back to the time of the Druids. As the miles passed, he saw rings forts, the tombs of fallen warriors and old castles.  There were dozens of ruined, ivy-covered churches, their spires the only thing that marked what they once were. Other than a few sheep grazing on the grass between the stones, there was no other sign of life. It was understandable in such a barren and desolate place, where most of the inhabitants left to find work in the towns and cities.  This was evident in the hundreds of ruined cottages that dotted the land, their jagged bricks thrusting like skeleton arms through the dark earth. What connection I have with this strange place, Corey wondered, as the train brought him closer and closer to the truth.

Shadow Self-chapter fifteen

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on July 27, 2020
Posted in: birdsong, hope faith God whispers heaven, books, changelings, Dwarfs, Eerie Places, elves, enemies, Fairies, Fantasy, fiction, folklore, Gothic novel, hidden worlds, Ireland's past, Irish folklore, kings, legend, magic, queens, revenge, strange worlds, teenagers, teenegers, wise women, Witchcraft, Witches, wonder, writers, writing, young adults. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

After a restless sleep, the first thing Juliet did when she woke was send an email to Mr Thomas thanking him for including her in the dig. She paused for a moment and bit her lip before continuing to type. My cousin Corey is staying with us for the summer. He is into archaeology and would love to come with me, if that’s possible? She had no idea why she did this, it was just an impulse. Then she wrote back to the boy calling himself Corey.   Ok, so we had the same dream,” she wrote. So what? It is probably some movie we saw years ago and we are just remembering it. Anyway, for all I know you could be some axe murderer.”

She would wait for his reply and see what he had to say. After all, he could be some pervert who had heard about the castle and using it to lure some unsuspecting girl to her death. Her parents were always warning her about talking to strangers on the net, so she was not taking any chances.

Juliet spent the rest of the day in a flurry of packing and unpacking. Her mother sat on the bed and watched as she rifled through drawers and opened boxes to find what she was looking for. A large rucksack lay on top of the quilt. Juliet threw an assortment of underwear, socks and pyjamas towards it and her mother folded everything neatly and packed them inside.

   “Are you taking a dress?” Her mother asked.

   “It’s going to be all work and no play,” Juliet assured her.

Her mother sighed and sat back against the pillows. Juliet stopped and looked over at her. Despite the country air, her mother’s face looked gaunt and dark shadows swooped beneath her eyes. There had to be something other than the move worrying her.

Juliet had no idea how many times her mother studied her face and wondered what went on behind her daughter’s tilted, green eyes. What quality Juliet possessed that made her so different from her sister. My fairy child, her mother sometimes thought of her. She would miss her so much over the coming weeks.

   “Found it,” Kim came running in followed by her father.

He carried Juliet’s rolled up sleeping bag.

   “Can I have your laptop while you’re gone,” Kim jumped up and down on the bed.

   “No, I’m taking it with me,” Juliet said and turning to her mother asked. “Don’t let her in here while I’m gone, will you?”

Later, everyone had gone to bed and the house settled for the night. Juliet sat at her dressing table and listened to the sounds that once frightened her. The groans of the floorboards settling and the fluttering of bat wings from the attic no longer held any terror for her. Her stomach did somersaults when she thought about the following morning and the journey ahead. She could not wait to meet some of her school friends again. Her stomach felt the way it did when she was a child on the night before Christmas; that excited, expectant feeling wondering what the morning would bring. Mr Thomas wrote and said her cousin was welcome to come along. All she had to do now was wait for a reply from that Corey guy. The mirror shimmered before her eyes and she blinked, blaming tiredness. She leaned closer and peered into its depths. Her eyes were dark pools in the dim light of the bedside lamp, and she held her breath and watched as shadows skimmed across the surface of her pupils. A figure appeared in the glass. At first, she was not sure where it had come from. She spun round, to see if it was behind her. When she turned back it was still there. It looked like her. The hair was the same colour, the eyes a little less slanted than hers, and the clothes it wore were beautiful and from another time.

   “Are you real,” she asked the reflection. “Am I really Juliet Wilson?” 

Her shadow-self shook its head before disappearing.

   “I’m asleep,” Juliet whispered. “I’m asleep and dreaming all this.”

Out in the hallway someone switched on the bathroom light. The familiar sound of muffled footsteps on the carpet and the clicking of the door latch, told her she was wide awake.

Outside, in the garden and hidden by the trees, a dark shape looked up at Juliet’s window. If what he heard was true, then the girl who lived inside might be the key to bringing about the downfall of the hidden world. He drew back his lips in a feral grin and faded into the night.

Shadow Self-chapter fourteen

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on July 24, 2020
Posted in: birdsong, hope faith God whispers heaven, books, Dwarfs, Eerie Places, elves, enemies, Fairies, Fantasy, fiction, folklore, gloom, Goblins, Gothic, Gothic novel, hidden worlds, Ireland's past, Irish folklore, kings, legend, magic, memories, monsters, queens, revenge, scary, strange worlds, teenagers, wise women, Witchcraft, Witches, wizards, wonder, writers, writing, young adults. Tagged: , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

Juliet closed her bedroom door and climbed up on to the bed. Her hands trembled as she let the contents of the envelope spill out on to the eiderdown. She found two birth certificates, one each for Maisie and Dawn.

   “I’ve found you at last,” Juliet whispered, as she read the writing on Dawn’s one.

There were a couple of old photos, faded to sepia, but possible to make out. The first one was a family group, her grand-aunts, and their parents. The oversized sun hats the children wore told their own story; it was taken in summertime. Maisie was about four years old in that one, Juliet guessed, and the baby sitting on her mother’s lap about one. Juliet held the photo up to get a better look.

   “Hello, Dawn, it’s nice to meet you,” she ran a finger down the baby’s face.

The next few photos showed the girls a couple of years later. In one, Maisie is holding her sister’s hand and as she toddled across the lawn. As she skipped through the pile, Juliet knew she was coming closer to the time when Dawn disappeared. In the last one, the children were sitting by the stream, eating a picnic. There are no grownups in the frame, and she wondered which parent took the photo, and if they were the last one to see their child alive. Was this the day Dawn disappeared? She knew in her heart it was, and it gave her an overwhelming sense of sadness when she looked at Maisie innocent, smiling face. So different from pinched, bitter old woman she had become. Kim was demanding she keep her promise and let her play on the computer.

   “Ok, let me check my mails and I’ll bring it in to your room,” Juliet called.

   “You better, or I’ll tell mom,” Kim warned.

Juliet was too excited to bother answering her. She had a mystery to unravel and three messages from Rick. Reaching out, she traced her finger along the words that said I love you, and then giggled, as he talked about the high jinks, they were all getting up too. The computer pinged to tell her a new message had come in. It was from Mr Thomas, her archaeology teacher. He liked to keep his students informed of any new discoveries, and it was not unusual to get an email from him. Despite spending most of his year in the classroom, Mr Thomas was deeply tanned with searching blue eyes and all the girls had a bit of a crush on him. All he needs is the whip, they whispered, and he would be Indiana Jones. Great news, the email began, I have just received backing for a dig here at home and am looking for twelve students to take part. It’s at the ruins of a castle called Culdoplin, I know, I’ve never heard of it either, but the powers that be want to knock it and they want to make sure it’s of no historical interest before doing so.  I have funding for four weeks, so they are not expecting us to find much. Attached is a map of its locations and there will be further directions for those of you who are coming along. As usual, the pay is a pittance, but I will see to it that you are fed! I need to get started right away so get back to me ASAP. I can’t promise you all a place on the dig, so you know the drill.

Juliet could not believe her eyes. Culdoplin was the word whispered in her dreams.  Goose pimple rose on her skin, it was so weird. She had the chance to take part in a real dig at that very place. It would also get her away for her aunt’s strange looks for a few weeks. A shout from the other room told her that Kim was getting impatient. She did a quick check of her favourite site to see if any of her friends were online. No, there was no one, so she carried the computer into Kim’s room.

   “Don’t break it and don’t you dare go into my private mail.”

   “Like I would,” Kim snorted. “Who wants to read your stupid stuff?”

Running down into the kitchen, Juliet found her parents preparing dinner.

   “Calm down,” her mother laughed, as Juliet tried to explain about the dig.

   “It will only be for four weeks,” She explained. “And I do not need anything, other than my fare. Mr Thomas said they will feed us, and we will even get a small wage. It is the chance of a lifetime. You can ring Mr Thomas about it. I know from some of the others who have been on digs with him that he watches them like a hawk. You won’t have to worry about me, please,” she begged.

Her parents looked at one another and shrugged. It was good to see her enthusiastic about something.

   “Give me the number and I’ll ring him,” her father said.

   “Do it right away, because the places are limited,” Juliet scribbled down the number from memory.

Her father came back in minutes.

   “Well, I’ve spoken to you Mr Thomas,” he let the words hang in the air to tease her, until finally, “You’re in.”

Juliet screamed and ran to hug him. The dinner that night was filled with tales about the mysterious castle. It was late when she got to bed, and she tossed and turned for hours. Deciding the sleep was a lost cause; she opened the laptop and clicked on to her usual site. Few people were on at that late hour and that is why she noticed Corey’s message. She paused before typing, why do you want to know?

Shadow Self-chapter thirteen

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on July 23, 2020
Posted in: birdsong, hope faith God whispers heaven, books, changelings, Dwarfs, Eerie Places, elves, enemies, Fairies, Fantasy, fiction, folklore, gloom, Goblins, Gothic, Gothic novel, hidden worlds, Ireland's past, Irish folklore, kings, legend, magic, monsters, queens, revenge, scary, teenagers, wise women, Witchcraft, wizards, writers, writing, young adults. Tagged: , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

Corey peeped round the door and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark. He could make out the shape of his bike in the dim light. After his terrible fright, he was afraid to step out into the alley. He had considered leaving the bike there and walking home, but it would take hours. There was not a sound and no movement in the darkness, so he sprinted across the alley. His hands shook as he placed the key in the lock and the sound of the chain, as he pulled it through the wheel spokes, sounded like thunder in the silence. He did not want to waste time putting the chain in his saddlebag and wrapped it round his wrist. It would serve as a weapon if he needed it. Sweat coated his upper lip, and he licked at the salty wetness. It was a huge relief to be out on the main road and among the traffic and confusion of the town. No longer worried about the threat of street gangs; he had more worrying things to think about; he cycled as fast as he could. He usually looked forward to leaving the town behind and welcomed the dark roads and watching laneways of the countryside, but tonight was different. There were few cars, and no sounds beside the lowing of cattle or the bleating of grazing sheep. The moon lit the road, but it did little to dispel his terror. He expected the Thing from the alley to step out from behind every tree he passed, or to feel the breath of the monster dog on his heels. His calf muscles ached as he pumped the pedals faster and faster, and his heart beat against his chest. What were those things, he wondered? They were real and not part of his imagination. He would never dream up with something like that. As his house came in to view, he stifled a sob of relief. Annie left the porch light on, and its beams were a beacon welcoming him home. His legs shook when he dismounted and trembled like jelly. He threw the bike from him and allowed it to freewheel into the garden, where it landed on its side. His fingers were so slippery with sweat he thought he would never get the key in the lock, and it was a relief to shut and bolt the door. Standing with his back against the wood, he unwound the chain from his wrist. He frowned at the way it cut into this skin leaving blood-red indents in the flesh. In the sitting room, the red light on the computer signalled the boys forgot to turn it off. He slipped into the chair beside it and clicked the mouse. The screen showed the usual social site they all used, and he paused for a moment before typing,

   Does anyone know what the word Culdoplin means?

He did not expect to get an answer so late at night, but the computer pinged, and someone named Juliet asked, why do you want to know? Before he could type his reply, she logged off, but he went ahead and wrote anyway.

   Hi, my name is Corey Dawson and I am seventeen. I know this is going to sound weird, but I have been having these strange dreams for as long as I can remember. In the last few weeks, they have been coming every night. I dream about a place called, Culdoplin, but I have no idea if it is real or just something that I dreamed. Do you recognise the word and if you do, will you get back to me about it?

He read the message through and hit the send button. What is the worst that could happen, he thought? She might choose to ignore him, and who would blame her? Culdoplin was probably something from a fairy tale he had read as a child. Logging off, he waited until the company logo disappeared from the screen before getting up. He was still scared by his experience, and the house seemed too quiet as he tip-toed up the stairs. He opened the door in the boys’ room and peeped in. They managed to fit three single beds in here. Corey smiled at the humped forms of Rasher and Stew, but Jamie’s bed was empty. Kneeling, he allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness and saw the mound beneath the bed. The dull beam of the flashlight meant its power was draining. The years of sleeping on the streets had made Jamie wary, and he had yet to adjust to living indoors, so he felt safer cocooned under the mattress. Closing the door, he crept to his own room and pulled off his clothes. He was weary from working long hours and the responsibility of taking care of the others. He wanted to sleep for a week, but he knew it was impossible. The first light of dawn was sneaking through the curtains as he closed his eyes.

It was after seven that evening when Corey set off for work. There were miles to go before he reached the town, and then a full shift working at the counter of the burger bar until early into the morning.

   “I’m worried about him,” Annie said to Tom. “He doesn’t look too well. I think the strain of working so hard is beginning to tell on him.”

   “I’ve noticed it too,” Tom rubbed the silvery bristles on his chin. “We can manage on my pension if we have to, but something has to be done.”

Things were about to change, and any decision they made for Corey would soon be taken off their hands.

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 seven

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on July 15, 2020
Posted in: Ghost. Leave a comment

All within the castle lay sleeping when they returned to Bargamore. The queen and Lady Blackthorn did not speak to one another, their pain was indescribable and not for sharing. The queen dismissed the wise women as she placed the baby on a mattress that still retained the small shape of her own child. She did not notice the shadowy figure in the corner of the room until he spoke.

   “You have exchanged our child, my love?”

   “I am the queen, I had no other choice,” she bit down on her lip to still the angry word she wanted to scream at her husband.

   “I cannot tell the difference,” he looked down at the sleeping baby.

   “You are not her mother,” it was difficult to keep the anger from her voice.

   “No, but I feel your pain,” he sat down on the bed beside her.

   “You know nothing of suffering,” she started to cry. “You cannot tell the difference, but I can and will do for the rest of my life, and so will Iris.”

   “I am sorry, my love,” he reached for her hand, but she pulled it away.

   “Go, leave me alone with my thoughts,” she begged.

The baby, sensing the quarrel, started to cry.

   “Go,” the queen said. “I will see to her myself.”

The sound of the baby’s wails of anguish followed the king all the way down to the throne room. It would soon be dawn and for the first time he feared the coming of day. In the streets below the lamplighters snuffed the flames on the lanterns. Everything seemed normal, but it wasn’t and would never be again.

   “Hush, little one,” the queen picked up the baby. “I am not angry with you. Do not be afraid. I will take care of you,” she kissed her soft cheek. “I promised your mother, and I intend to keep that promise. I will surround you with all the love I have to give, and I pray you will never sense the yearning secret of my heart.”

   “That’s a pretty box,” the nurse said, as Alice sat up in the bed.

How strange, Alice thought, as she undid the bow. Had someone come to visit her while she slept? The beauty of the pendant made her catch her breath. It looked expensive, and was obviously given by someone close to the baby? There was no more time to think as the baby carried in. Alice picked up her handbag and tucked the box inside. She would keep the pendant safe until Juliet was old enough to appreciate such a work of art.

   “She looks different,” Alice frowned, when the nurse handed her the baby.

   “New-borns change from minute to minute,” the nurse said, as she twirled the Id tag on the baby’s wrist. “There you are,” she drew Alice’s attention to it.

   “You’re right,” she sighed with relief. “I am just being silly.”

   “No, it’s understandable,” the nurse smiled. “But, how could you mistake that hair? We were talking about it this morning. It’s so dark red, it’s hard to describe.”

   “I don’t know where her colouring comes from, “Alice said as she kissed her baby. “You’re a bit of a mystery.”

Was it just her imagination or did the baby’s eyes have a slight tilt at the corners that she had not noticed before? Later that night, Alice’s mother confirmed she had an aunt with the same colouring, so mystery solved.

Mary and Bob Dawson had no such qualms when it came to their son. He was perfect in their eyes and neither of them saw anything different about him. The pendant was accepted as a gift from a passing friend, who would, no doubt, reveal themselves in the coming days. Like Juliet, Corey’s hair was the talk of all the nursing staff as it was the whitest, they had ever seen.

   “I must have overdone it on the calcium or the milk,” Mary laughed.

So, the months passed, and all four children thrived on the love they received from those around them. In Bargamore the queen and Lady Blackthorn clapped as their children took their first tentative steps around the furniture in the throne room.

   “They have grown so fast,” Lady Blackthorn beamed.

   “Yes,” the queen sighed.

   “You must accept her, my queen,” Lady Blackthorn said.

   “I love her, you know that,” the queen said. “But sometimes, when I look in her eyes, I see a stranger staring back at me. There is nothing of the king or me in there.”

The queen looked across at her daughter. Amber sensing her mother gaze turned and said her first word. Its sound was like thorns piercing the queen’s heart, “mamma.”