Shadow Self-chapter twenty

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on August 3, 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, queens, revenge, scary, strange worlds, teenagers, wise women, Witchcraft, Witches, wizards, wonder, writers, writing, young adults. Tagged: , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

Corey unhooked the chain holding his pendant and pushed the silver phoenix across the table, until it was beside its mirror image. The silence was that dramatic stillness that comes from some monumental event that leaves the watcher stunned.  

   “What’s this, some family tradition?”

Juliet looked up wide-eyed at the speaker.

   “Sort of,” Juliet said, as she pushed Corey’s pendant back at him. “This is my cousin, Corey. Corey, Mr Thomas.”

They shook hands, and Mr Thomas sat down beside them.

   “Do you mind?” He gestured to where Corey’s pendant lay.

   “No, please,” he nodded, as the man turned it over in his fingers.

   “Wonderful,” Mr Thomas said. “The workmanship is astounding, as is the quality of the silver. They must be incredibly old, heirlooms I take it?”

They nodded, hoping he would not press them on it. A commotion from the doorway saved them from explaining further. Corey relaxed when he placed the chain back around his neck and felt the coolness of the silver on his skin.

The small tearoom was filling up as the rest of the group came spilling in. Loud calls of greeting rang out, and Juliet got air kisses from the girls. Introductions were made and Mr Thomas ordered drinks for everyone.

   “As I told you in the email” Mr Thomas said. “A local councillor wants to have the castle knocked to make way for a road. He believes it will be a boon to the tourist industry and he says the castle has no historical significance. It is up to us to prove him wrong. The government are anxious to preserve our heritage and if we can find evidence, then we can save the castle. I have no need to stress how important this dig is, and how honoured I am to be chosen to lead it.”

The group nodded, as he looked around the tables.

   “Now for the mundane bit. We have a number of tents available to us; some sleep two and others four, so we will have to divide into groups. Miss William,” he said. “Will do the cooking.”

They all turned and looked at the woman who blushed under their gaze. Miss Williams was the domestic science teacher in their school and was quite willing to give up her summer holidays to take part in the dig. Not that she had any interest in archaeology, her interest lay elsewhere. Everyone in the school knew that she was crazy about Mr Thomas, everyone except Mr Thomas that is.

   “How far is it to Culdoplin, sir?” One of the boys asked.

   It’s about an hour’s journey from here to Ballibrock and then a twenty-minute walk to the castle. There’s an old steam train outside the village that will take us to Ballibrock,” he consulted his watch. “We should get going.”

There was the usual clatter as they all got to their feet and picked up their belongings.  

   “Some local railway enthusiasts have revived an old length of track and salvaged a steam engine. It’s used to ferry tourists on sightseeing tours during the summer season” Mr Thomas kept up a running commentary as they walked. “We’re honoured to be travelling the way our ancestors did, be it only those have passed in the last hundred years or so.” 

. They gazed in wonder as the old engine and the four old carriages behind it.

   “All aboard,” the guard called, but there was no need for the order.

The group swarmed inside, each one hoping to get a window seat.

Goats grazed along the side of the track, rabbits and stoats stole through the undergrowth, and even tiny little field mice were seen foraging on the moss-covered rocks. There was a shout when someone saw a fox. It stood watching them from a large rock and showed no fear at the noise from the train. Juliet held up a hand and waved and the fox bowed its head before turning away.

   Like the last village, there were dozens of eyes watching their progress, as they lugged the tents and equipment through the streets. They were all struck by the silence of the place.

   “Not far now,” Mr Thomas consulted his map. “Just round the next bend and we should see the castle.”

The land was covered with huge, flat stones that looked like the lids of old tombs. It felt like walking through a graveyard, and the silence added to this sensation. The well-worn pathway was treacherous with jagged stones, and most of the group stumbled at one time or another.

   “We’re here,” the call came from the front of the group, and it spurred the slackers on.

 Culdoplin Castle stands on what looks like a small mountain in the centre of the land. According to Mr Thomas, the mountain effect was due to some volcanic eruption thousands of years ago. The light was beginning to fade so it was half in shadow, and there were black things flying above it. Crows, Corey thought, as it was too light for it to be bats. As they watched the sun begin to set Juliet sensed enchantment and peace wash over her. She looked at Corey from the corner of her eye and realised he felt it too. They were home at last, though neither one knew why they felt that way

Shadow Self- chapter nineteen

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on July 31, 2020
Posted in: birdsong, hope faith God whispers heaven, books, castles, changelings, Dwarfs, Eerie Places, elves, enemies, Fairies, Fantasy, fiction, folklore, Goblins, Gothic, Gothic novel, hidden worlds, Ireland's past, Irish folklore, kings, legend, magic, monsters, strange worlds, teenagers, twlight, wise women, Witchcraft, Witches, wizards, wonder, writers, writing, young adults. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

The day had turned grey and overcast by the time Juliet stepped off the train. The air was heavy, like walking through syrup, and within minutes her skin was hot and clammy. There was no sign of a porter and the shutters were down on the ticket office. With over twenty minutes to spare, she decided to make her way out into the street and have a look around. She found a grocery store and decided to browse around to pass the time. It was an old-fashioned place with not much to see, so she bought a packet of gum. 

  The streets were wet and small puddles had formed on the footpath. There must have been a sun shower while she was inside. The clamminess had gone, and was replaced with a cool breeze that felt good on her skin.

The first thing that struck Corey, when he stepped down out of the train, was how fresh the air smelt. He was used of city life and the smell of exhaust fumes and greasy odours. Not even the air around his home smelled this sweet, as the breeze carried with it the scent of green mosses and the rawness of freshly washed earth. Once the platform cleared of its few stragglers, he looked around to find Juliet, the girl who described herself as someone with a head of fire. It was impossible to miss her. She was sitting on a bench at the other end of the platform reading something on her phone. Her description was understandable now, but it was nothing like he expected. He had never seen hair that colour. It was like a dark, rich wine that glowed in the sunlight.

   “Hey,” he said, when he reached her.

She was too intent on her phone message to notice him approach.

   “Hi,” she stuffed the phone in to the pocket of her jeans and stood up.

Corey extended a hand and then withdrew it. That was so lame, shaking hands like some formal grownup.

   “I’m Corey,” he felt himself blush under her gaze.

   “Juliet,” she smiled. “You don’t look much like a serial killer.”

   “What!” Corey laughed.

   “Never mind, I’ll tell you all about it later,” she picked up her knapsack and sleeping bag. “There’s a cafe outside the station. We can swap information there and get to know one another better.”

   “Great,” Corey walked beside her as she continued to chatter.

Over cold drinks and scones they told one another about their lives. Juliet’s eyes grew sad when she heard Corey’s story.

   “God, it must have been awful, the foster homes and stuff,” she said.

   “Some were not so bad,” he tried to shrug the memory off. “But some were a nightmare and speaking of such, I was wondering what your dreams are about.”

   “It’s crazy, ok,” Juliet said. “I dream of another me,” she played with some fallen crumbs. “I see myself in another place and time. At least, I think it is me, but I’m not sure.”

   “Mine are the same,” Corey gasped. “I keep dreaming about the castle and I hear its name in my head all the time.”

   “You think that’s weird,” Juliet said. “Listen to this.”

She told him about the night before and the shadow self she saw in the mirror.

   “Have you ever seen a giant sort of man thing?” Corey asked. “He’s about seven foot tall and dressed all in black.”

   “I thought I saw something once,” Juliet said. “It was in the garden of my aunt’s house, but it was only there for a fraction of a second. I put it down to imagination or a trick of the light.”

   “I’ve seen it up close and it’s no trick of the imagination,” Corey grew pale at the memory. “It’s the scariest thing I have ever seen, besides the monster dog, that it.”

   “A monster dog,” Juliet’s eyes grew wide.

   “It was huge, like a small cow and its eyes were red as fire,” Corey said.

   “Wow,” Juliet found it hard to take everything in.

She reached up to twiddle with her hair, something she did when she was stressed.

   “Ouch,” she gasped as a nail snagged on the chain around her neck.

   “Are you OK?” Corey asked.

   “Yes, I’ve broken a nail and it’s snagged on my chain,” she stood and leaned across the table. “Can you open the clasp for me?”

   “Sure,” Corey pulled aside a mass of thick, red hair and pulled back the little clasp that held the chain in place.

   “Thanks,” Juliet let the pendant fall in to her hand. “Damn, that’s always happening and just when I get my nails to the right length.”

Corey reached inside his shirt and pulled his chain free. The twin phoenix’s glittered in the watery sunlight.

   “Juliet,” he whispered. “Look.”

Shadow Self-chapter eighteen

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on July 30, 2020
Posted in: birdsong, hope faith God whispers heaven, books, castles, changelings, Dwarfs, Eerie Places, elves, enemies, Fairies, Fantasy, fiction, folklore, Goblins, Gothic, Gothic novel, hags, hidden worlds, Ireland's past, Irish folklore, kings, legend, magic, monsters, queens, revenge, scary, strange worlds, teenagers, teenegers, wise women, Witchcraft, Witches, writers, writing, young adults. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

Juliet’s journey was not as comfortable as Corey’s, and every seat on the train was taken. They were mostly old people, about her parents’ age and from what she gathered, they were on some pilgrimage or something. They would be getting off a few stations before her and for that she was thankful. She was squashed in on all sides as she had chosen a window seat. Two large ladies sat opposite her, and an even larger one beside her. From the outset they decided to be her friend, the last thing she needed. Her mind filled with the image of her family waving her off, and the circles, that looked darker than ever beneath her mother’s eyes.

   “Are you travelling on your own?” The women sitting opposite asked.

   “Yes, I am,” Juliet smiled, and put her headphones in to her ears, but she had to take them out again as the woman’s mouth continued to move.

   “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear what you said,” she apologised.

   “I asked if you are going to the prayer meeting.”

   “No, I’m going to Brittlestown,” Juliet held the earphones up, hoping the woman would take the hint, but no such luck.

   “Have you family there?” The woman beside her eased her considerable bulk round in her seat.

   “No, I’m going on an archaeological dig with some of my school friends.”

   “Archaeology, isn’t that something to do with digging up old ruins and things?” The woman asked.

   “Yes, that’s right,” Juliet said, through gritted teeth.

   “That wouldn’t suit me,” the woman huffed and turned away. “All that dirt and worms, ugh,” her fake shiver made the seat shake.

After that they lost interest in her for a while, and she could listen to her music and think about what lay ahead. She had not dared tell her parents about Corey, and she hoped it would turn out to be a huge mistake. The enormity of what she had done did not hit home until she was on the train, and she seriously hoped he did not turn out to be some murderer or worse. Though she was not sure what was worse than murder. Her computer was standing between her legs on the floor, but she did not want to put it on the table in case the ancient ones started asking questions again. Corey told her he was leaving his computer at home. Other than an email from Rick, she would use hers to contact home and play games to pass the time. She closed her eyes and tried to nod off, but it was useless as the woman beside kept jostling her every time she moved.  A soft touch on her hand signalled her attention was demanded.

   “Have you brought anything to eat?” The woman opposite her asked.

   “Yes, I have some sandwiches in my knapsack, but I’m not hungry.”

   “Nonsense,” the woman smiled. “I’ve never known a young person who wasn’t hungry.”

   “There’s bound to be something here you like,” the women spread napkins out on the tabletop and unload an assortment of sandwiches and scones on to them.

Think, Juliet urged her brain. The look of the food was making her feel ill.

   “I can’t eat any of that I’m afraid, I’m coeliac, I can’t eat gluten.”

Brilliant, thank you brain.

   “That’s terrible,” the three women looked at her in horror. “So, you can’t eat bread or cakes?” The woman beside her asked.

   “I can, but only special, gluten-free cakes,” Juliet shrugged.

   “Well, isn’t that terrible,” she tutted. “I can’t imagine not being able to eat a proper sandwich or cake.”

She tried to drown them out and concentrated on the sound of the wheels. Her father topped up her phone credit and warned her not to waste it gossiping with her friends, but as soon as she got off the train, she would call home. Her mother said to let them know that she had arrived safely, and this would be the perfect excuse to sound her out again about her health.

   There was a flurry of activity from the woman as the train slowed. Juliet swore the seat lifted a good two feet when the woman beside her got up.

   “Have a nice time,” one of the women said, as they started to shuffle down the aisle.

   “You too,” Juliet’s smile was genuine; she was so relieved to see them go.

The train was almost empty now and the air around her seemed lighter. Once they left the station the landscape changed dramatically and like Corey, she pressed closer to the window to drink in the amazing view. True, it was bleak, and some might find it forbidding, but it called to her. There was timelessness about the land that made her heart swell and brought tears to her eyes. From somewhere out there among the rocks and gnarled trees, a voice called to her and for the first time in her life, Juliet felt like she could spread her wings and answer its call.

Shadow Self-chapter seventeen

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on July 29, 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, writers, writing, young adults. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

Bargamore

Present Day

Queen Heather stood on the balcony overlooking the main square and stared into the distance. At any other time, she would have enjoyed the view over the land of Bargamore, but not today. Her eyes saw none of the breath-taking beauty of the skyline and the domes, spires and turrets of the houses were mere shadows, as tears clouded her vision. It would soon be her daughter’s eighteenth birthday. This is a significant time to both human and elfin, as it marks the transition from childhood to adulthood, but more so for the elfin. When anyone living within the land beneath the earth reaches the age of eighteen the aging process slows down, and they continue to live for hundreds of years. It was not just the milestone year that troubled the queen, but the change she saw in her daughter as the time drew near. She was running wild in the company of Lady Blackthorn’s son, Sabba. She put it down to the impetuousness of youth, but there were other signs that all was not well with the children. They had become secretive, whispering, and plotting together for hours on end.

Amber’s door was locked each time her mother tried to enter, and she saw furtiveness in her smallest actions. The king watched his wife’s restless pacing. Haunted by her suffering and that of Lady Blackthorn, he had vowed no other women would share such pain. If the elfin race were to die out, then so be it. The wise women cast spells and brewed potions until a cure was found for the sickness, but it came too late for his wife and her friend. He walked out to the balcony and put his arms around her.

   “We will find out the truth,” he said.

He sent word to his daughter and Sabba summoning them to the throne room, but they had disappeared. After a tense meeting with, Larkeon, the dwarf chosen to tutor the children, they felt afraid and confused. The children were missing for the second time that week, he told them, and they had become secretive.

   “They are very young,” the queen tried to excuse their behaviour.

   “They are of royal blood and with that come certain obligations,” the king roared. “It is up to them to set standards for others.”

   “But they are not of royal blood,” the queen’s words hung in the air.

Larkeon, who was one of the few who knew that the children were changelings, did his best to ease the tension.

   “They may not be elfin in the true sense, but they developed our powers,” he said. “I have been studying them, majesties and I saw what they can do. The princess is the most powerful of all.”

   “How can this be and what sort of powers?” The queen asked.

   “Like all mortals and have adjusted to their surroundings. They have a sort of telepathy between one another and with…” his voice trailed off.

   “With what?” The veins bulged on the king’s forehead.

   “Beings the princess calls their shadow self,” the dwarf gulped. “Mortals from the world above. Two beings she says are their mirror image. It had gone further than telepathy, I fear. The princess has mastered the art of astral projections and has been in contact with them. They feel the need for this now because they have learned of our troubles.”

   “How can that be?” The queen asked.

   “There are rumours,” Larkeon said. “Someone has been whispering in their ears.”

There was no need to ask who, as the king called for his guards and issued a summons. They returned in minutes and dumped a body at his feet. Hack, a dwarf, who believed that he was the greatest newspaper reported ever, looked up at the king.

   “What have you been saying to the princess,” the king spoke through gritted teeth. “Do not lie to me.”

   “Just what I heard,” Hack said. “About the castle, and the mortal who wishes to destroy it.”

   “You hear things because you spy on us and lurk in corners like some vile rodent,” the king fumed.

   “No, majesty,” the dwarf begged. “I would never spy on you. It came from one of the Ereban hags.”

   “You have been consorting with the Erebans?” The king could not believe his ears.

   “Only to learn the news, majesty.”

   “Get out of my sight,” the king roared at Hack.

There was no denying what the dwarf said was true. A local man from the mortal world was running a campaign to knock Culdoplin Castle, and for those within the hidden world, this could mean death.

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.