Saturday 9 May 2015

New Chapter... The Tessellation Saga! Bk 5


Hi Guys,

Having taken some advice from a lovely lady called Frances, I've been remodeling a few of the characters and chapters in book 5.  I've just finished this chapter of The Tessellation Saga, as I said from from book 5 which apart from not being finished, also requires a title.  Have a read and let me know what you think, either here or as before on twitter or facebook.




Mesa

Mesa sat at his desk pensively waiting for the call that would take him to the women’s quarters with his nails digging into his palms and drawing blood in an effort to take away his pain.  He thought of the girl as he had last seen her, writhing in pure agony, tired and as pale as death itself.  The only light in her had been the light in her eyes as he had called to her god, the mighty Tsaru, to bless her and accept her passing into his realm with ease.  He had done everything he could to help her after her beating but she had been too gravely injured, all he could do was to try and ease her passing himself by taking away her pain and settling it upon himself.  As his pain ended abruptly he knew she had at last gone beyond the realm of life and now travelled toward Tsaru and the golden gates of heaven, where, he hoped she would not judge herself too harshly.  Tired from the long hours of enforced and intense pain he let the tears flow down his cheeks and he sobbed like a child for the death of the tiny Albastian girl, not because she was gone, but because he knew he was glad her suffering was finally ended.
Hours later Mesa still sat waiting, where are they, someone should have checked on her by now...  He thought and cursed the eunuchs whose job it was to watch over the king’s personal slaves.  Walking over to the couch he sat down and rested his head on the soft pillows as he stared out of the window at the star filled sky and wishing he was with Tisri even now.  Eventually sleep crept upon him and he drifted off into the dark world of dreams.
Next morning he awoke, again feeling apprehensive and nervous, his body was still sore from the pain of the last few days but he smiled sadly remembering her pain had had last ended and she had been set free.  A gentle knock on the door heralded the beginning of his day’s work and he tried to put her out of his mind as he somehow continued with his day’s tasks.  As the sun rose and again fell, Mesa was still waiting.
Two days later the sun had finally begun to sink into the sea as his secretary burst unannounced into his office.  He almost giggled with the final release of the tension that had been building since he had felt her death but stood up and turned away from his secretary to stare out of the window at the pink and orange sky muttering loudly that her death was decidedly inconvenient, as the king was still away, on earth.
Nevertheless, he gave orders for the eunuchs’ to ensure the king’s women were appropriately covered from the prying eyes of the men that would be entering the harem and sat quietly at his desk to drink his tea, allowing time for the orders to be carried out.  He laughed at the ridiculousness of his order knowing that MeGath’s body slaves anyway, habitually wore as little as possible; mainly to allow MeGath easy access to their bodies and one only had to open one’s eyes to see everything they had to offer.  An hour later he hurried from his office down the many steps and out of his tower, crossing the cobbled courtyard with his robes flapping around his ankles and into the man part of the castle itself, past the king’s private chambers he hurried and into the corridor that led to MeGath’s harem and finally to Tisri’s room, where he ordered a guard to remain outside the door and called for the head eunuch to attend him.
Closing the door behind him he moved almost reverently toward the bed and sat down beside the cold and dead body with tears again in his eyes and a lump stuck hard in his throat.
A small candle, fluttered weakly at the head of the bed causing shadows to move gently across the many bruises that marred her skin.  ‘I’m so sorry my dear, so very sorry,’ he whispered noting the purple and yellow bruises standing out on the insipid olive skin like they never had before.  Gently he reached out and brushed the long hair away from her forehead before softly running the back of his warm fingers against her cheek.  Taking the pale and cold hand in his own, he sighed and clutched it between his own as if to give it warmth.  The arm moved with a soft ease, all rigor having long since gone from the body, she could have been asleep, except for the multiple bruises and abrasions in their many stages of healing.  Never having been a violent man, despite his hardened reputation which was all a necessary fabrication, Mesa was sickened by yet another death to man’s perversion.  When will it all stop, when will it stop!  He wondered as a gentle knock sounded on the door.  Hastily he released the hand and placed it back on the Albastian girl’s breast before standing and adjusting his clothes, once again the professional Magsmen.
‘Come…’  He called and stepped forward taking the girl’s pale limp wrist between his thumb and forefingers so as to be seen taking the girl’s pulse.  ‘Where is the physic mage?’  He asked as a bald and effeminate eunuch walked into the room, Mesa stared at him in barely disguised disgust knowing he had deliberately given up his magical ability along with his manhood to work for the king in his harem, just like all eunuchs the world over.  He turned his focus back to the bed and the dead girl as a second person was ushered into the room by the guard outside.  Mesa glanced at her as the door closed behind her and he realised he knew who she was.  Apple, a woman known to Tisri as Apple, a woman Mesa knew was owned by Toby Hollins and, one of the original Green Homers, he recalled, remembering the long and eventually productive search he had secretly carried out over so many years whilst searching for the elusive Gideon Green.
The eunuch coughed and looked uncomfortable, squirming under Mesa’s intense stare.  Mesa turned again to the body and casually released the cold hand.
‘King MeGath took all the palace physic mages and the resident hedgewitch to earth with him on this trip my lord,’ the eunuch said in a small but obsequious voice, ‘and by his command, I found Apple here, a disabled slave belonging to Mr Hollins to work on the pri… er, this slave’s hurts.’  He gulped as he realised he had inadvertently shown knowledge of the princess’s former station.
Mesa let the slip go apparently unnoticed and watched as the eunuch relaxed a little.  It would not do to anger the man too much…  Mesa thought feeling the sweat beginning to build up on the small of his back and turned quickly to Apple allowing his flowing robes to move against him soaking up the offending moisture.
‘What is your qualification woman?’  He asked assuming a disinterest but knowing the question would be expected and with a badly hidden glance to the eunuch, Apple looked Mesa directly in the eye as she answered.
‘Me lord, I’ve been taught by the Dervourian Hedgewitch, Dotty an’ me master allows me to ‘elp the slaves in the breeding pens an’ the non-magical Arotians when I can, an’ iffen don’t need me o’course.’  She said defiantly.  Mister Castor ‘ere, well, ‘e didn’t call me to this girl afore now.’
‘Now, is a little late, is it not Castor?’  Mesa asked turning a cold and steely gaze toward the fat eunuch who remained outwardly clam but his tightly fisted hands and white knuckles belied his composure.
‘Milord, she didn’t appear to be so ill, I thought she was recovering from the beati...  Er, the accident I mean, just like she has each time before.’  Mesa said nothing, allowing his anger to build at the eunuch’s casual dismissal of the tiny child’s repeated beatings.  The silence became profound and the eunuch, in an attempt to fill it spoke again.  ‘Really my lord, she was recovering, I, I thought she was recovering.  She was favouring her side a little and had a little difficulty breathing but...’  Mesa interrupted the fat man’s speech by pulling the thin but soft blankets away from the corpse exposing her entire right side.  A deep moan escaped from the fat, wet lips and Apple sucked in a deep breath in horror, placing her hands over her mouth.
“May your Journey’ be swift, little one.’  She whispered through her tears of sorrow as she gazed at the girl’s near naked body.  Beneath the blankets the body had more than just cuts and bruises, at least two ribs were broken that she could see from noting their awkward alignment and a deep depression in the centre of her chest covered almost entirely by a large black bruise showed where a heavy punch had been received.
‘A little difficulty breathing...’  Mesa repeated the fat eunuch’s words back to him pleased to see that the man was at last beginning to visibly sweat.  ‘And this is the first time a healer of any sort has seen her?’  He said coldly as the fat man trembled visibly.
‘I did not realise sir, truly, I did not realise...’  Castor squealed with a profound and deep regret, his pallor turning from a healthy cream to a pasty white and Mesa could swear he heard the man’s belly rumble as his bowels reacted to his fear.  Mesa refused to feel sorry for him, knowing the sorrow he could now see was for the man himself and without doubt the punishment MeGath would inflict upon him for letting the girl die whilst in his care, not for her suffering.
‘I believe this was the King’s favourite body slave, he will not be best pleased,’ Mesa said softly, allowing the eunuch a moment to think about the king’s undoubted ire.  Holding his chin between his finger and thumb Mesa rubbed it thoughtfully as if trying to come to a decision.
‘As she was who she was and the king’s property, remove her to the crypt but don’t burn her, MeGath may want to see her body himself to ascertain she is indeed dead, after all we all know her antecedents however hard the king has tried to hide them and throwing a royal princess to the furnaces is not a decision I wish to make.  Yes, that’s it.’  Mesa said with a more determined voice.  ‘I will place the body in stasis until the king’s return and then he can decide what to do with it, I am sure he will want it destroyed, he cannot afford to let her death at his hand be widely known!’
Castor sighed softly in relief; if the body was to be held until the king’s return it gave him a chance to get far, far away.  Mentally he began to list the things he would need in order to maintain a certain standard of living.  Mesa watched the eunuch from beneath his eyelashes and could almost see the thoughts in the man’s head.  He’ll run, if he has any sense anyway...  He concluded silently.
Evidently with his mind made up and feeling better, the eunuch moved from the bottom of the bed to stand beside the girl’s left side, again he looked at the brown robed magsmen and for the first time showed genuine sympathy for the dead body lying between them.  He placed his hand on the blanket covering her left side from shoulder to toes and whispered a soft prayer for her soul.  In horror Mesa noticed a small stain beginning to seep through the thin coverlet under the pressure of the fat man’s hand, a stain just about where the fresh tattoo wrapped around the corpse’s left arm and the sweat began to run down his back once more, pooling at the base of his spine.
‘Cover her again; give her a little dignity in death at least...’  Mesa said as he reached out and pulled the blanket from under the fat man’s hand hiding the smeared blood stain from view as he covered the girl’s body for the last time, leaving nothing exposed.  ‘Now...’  Mesa began as he held his hands in prayer before spreading them over her body and he held them there as he sang the notes of the spell that would encase her in ice, ice as hard as diamonds and an ice that would never melt regardless of heat.
The notes swirled and danced through the room in a sad parody of a beautiful poem and Mesa’s eyes filled with unshod tears as he thought of the horrors this disabled child had been forced to endure.  Firstly, by being abandoned by her family for being disabled, sold into slavery and into the sex trade where soldiers on rest were able to use and abuse her at will.  Finally, by being beaten to death by a soldier now dead by another’s hand, a soldier who had wanted to emulate his king and own a whore.  The candle spluttered and went out causing Mesa to conjure a small light orb that hung low over the body as the temperature in the room plummeted and the ice began to form.  The blanket held the ice away from the delicate skin but became translucent as it solidified and the newly crafted tattoo of ivy and roses that wrapped her left arm blended into the bruises and wounds that shone through the ice as if magnified, dark purple and yellow lesions occasionally crossed by many deep red welts adorning the body grew visible as the ice grew thicker and the evidence of one man’s cruelty was held in check until the king returned.
Once the ice casket was finished Mesa lifted his hands and blew warm breath into his palms, he was sorely tired, not having performed magic of this magnitude in many years.  The scantily clad eunuch was also slightly older and cold, his lips and skin wore an unhealthy shade of blue and his teeth were clamped together tightly.  No doubt to stop them from chattering, Mesa surmised, feeling slightly guilty as he realised the balance had also taken from the eunuch’s life force.  His thought was confirmed as the eunuch spoke.
‘M m m my lord...’  He began but Mesa lifted a hand to silence him.
‘Go and prepare a communication to be sent to my rooms relating to the death of this slave and I will ensure MeGath receives it as soon as he returns from earth.  Then call an escort to remove the casket to the crypt, ensure that it remains covered from prying eyes and guard it until his return.’  He said coldly as the eunuch bowed low and left the room congratulating himself on his lucky escape and again going over in his mind what he would need to pack to continue his life of ease elsewhere.
Apple stood silently in the room watching the magsmen as he sang his spell, she knew from experience that she needed to be as far away from the mage as she could be, just in case the balance took from her as the path of least resistance.  Her relief as the room grew colder was as noticeable as the tears glittering in Mesa Rattish’s face.  ‘E’s not as cold ‘arted as ‘e makes out ter be! She thought and resolved to ask him, if she got the chance, about the welfare of Linnet her granddaughter and his wife’s house slave.  She thought of the child again as her skin began to prickle and she moved back once more, this time into the very corner of the room where she huddled against the walls.  Her thoughts only interrupted as the eunuch, Castor stuttered like a school boy as he attempted to speak and the magsmen dismissed him.  Not knowing quite what to do, she remained where she was, evidently forgotten.
Again Mesa sat on the edge of the bed, his side nestled against the block of cold ice that covered the body of the Albastian girl.  ‘I’m so very sorry I couldn’t heal you my dear, I wasn’t told about you in time to do more than take away your pain.  I promise you I will do all in my power to put a stop to the abuse of slaves and to work for their freedom.’  He said softly, finally adding, ‘the Princess Tisri, will live because of your sacrifice and I swear by the mighty Tsaru I will get her to safety.’
Apple stared in shock as she listened to the chief of magsmen, she had overheard truths that were not meant for her ears and knew she was as good as dead, as the tears fell silently down her face she mentally said goodbye to her friends, her family and Mayan’s tiny twin children she would now never hold.  As Mesa finished speaking the candles suddenly flickered back to life sending shards of golden light refracting through the ice casket in a beautiful warm and golden light and Mesa smiled as he imagined the warm breath of the mighty god washing over him.
Apple gasped loudly, causing Mesa, who had indeed forgotten that she was there, to turn around and stare straight at her.
‘I saw a bull; I saw a great golden bull standin’ on the ice!’  She said softly and as she spoke a darkness came over her and she drifted away.

Friday 1 May 2015

Hi again,

I hope all is well in the land of 'out there?'

I've been off today and busy working on book 5 of The Tessellation Saga, (It's not got a title yet, any suggestions?) my chickens have been staring at me typing from the garden and occasionally pecking at the patio doors whilst awaiting their treats. I just love to watch the pair of them wandering around in the garden, and I'm sure they prefer it to being 'cooped' up all day! Excuse the pun... lol

Anyhoo... I' thought I'd share an amusing tale whilst I take a break from Tess...

Chicken number 1, Hetty, arrived two Christmas's ago as a gift from my sister in law.  She was used to living alone as she was apparently a bully to the other birds in her coop and of course I felt sorry for her and have a large garden so was only too pleased to say yes I would take her and my darling hubby ordered me a pretty, wooden, flat packed coop to house her in.

The coop arrived one cold Saturday afternoon in the middle of a rain storm, it was flat packed full of instructions and a handy guide to keeping girls!  'Do not keep the birds alone,' the book said (apparently they get lonely) but I had already been  told that the chicken was a bully and to keep it on its own. So was a mite confused.  Anyway, with the chicken expected the next day I asked my hubby and his best friend to put the coop together so at least she would have somewhere to live. I did mention the rain storm didn't I, I mean the storm that soaked my hubby and his best friend as they studied the flat pack instructions and proceeded to work it all out.  Of course I supervised from the conservatory window, occasionally shouting words of encouragement through a megaphone so as to be heard over the noise of the rain on the roof.

Hetty duly arrived and was introduced to her new home and all was well for a few weeks as we got to know each other, and she got to know the cats and that in itself is a new tale to tell but can wait for another day.
Hetty, talking to her reflection

After a while though, I thought she was looking a little lonely as the book had foretold so I did some research online, found a few really good, 'how to keep your chickens happy' websites and asked a few questions and resolved to get another one. First though, I had a ingenious plan, a light bulb moment that, amongst my family anyway, I will never live down. I brought Hetty a mirror thinking I could introduce her to another chicken to see how it went. I got a large old mirror from a charity shop and placed it against the bars of her coop during the night when she was shut in. The family thought I was nuts but Hetty loved it, she sat herself down in front of it and stayed there all day clucking and chuckling to her own reflection.
                                                     Success!
So pleased with my inventiveness  and not crowing too badly, hubby and I sourced a second hen that looked exactly like her reflection.  Just in case we also brought some anti-peck spray. The second hen hubby duly named Sunday and the two girls got on from the first.  Sunday was quite young and at 'point of lay' but her first egg was a teeny tiny thing that I was so proud of I took a photo of it sitting next to Hetty's larger one. lol

Hetty and Sunday!
After a month or two, Hetty stopped laying, but I couldn't work out why, so, back to the chicken forums with a few more questions...  'She's getting too old' was the general response and so hubby decided she was to be dinner.  'Nooooo!' I replied, 'we can't eat her, shes a pet!' So she continued to live out her life in the garden eating my seedlings and scratching up the lawn until she passed away in her sleep one evening earlier this year. She's buried along with the numerous other family pets we have lost over the years.

Not wanting Sunday to be lonely we got another hen, the new girl is a large brown bird called, 'Lunch'. Again hubby named her thinking two chickens called, Sunday and Lunch' was really funny. My sides were aching... (not) But I did smile and let me tell you gentle reader we hadn't heard the last of Hetty! Whilst playing with our grandchildren one evening shortly after 'Lunch's' arrival, hubby went to reclaim a football from under a bush in the garden. Down on his hands and knees he went and disappeared from the waist up only to re-emerge a few moments later with an egg in his hand. Then he went in again and again and again...
Hetty hadn't stopped laying eggs for me, she had just found a more comfortable place to lay them. Unfortunately as they had all been there sometime I had to throw them away but it was funny and has made me check to see that the girls have both laid before I let them out. Sunday and Lunch are prolific layers and their fresh eggs are lovely as I'm sure my neighbours will all verify.   I'd recommend chickens as pets too, they are great fun to watch and such characters, there's even a website  writen by the U.K. government on how to keep them!
 The only downside is...  Wait for it...
 I do have do a daily poop scoop, sometimes twice as the girls 'go' everywhere!

Now, I've got to get back to, The Tessellation Saga but I hope you enjoyed Hetty's Tale. If you keep chickens or want to, then try the sites below...

Bye..............

Until next time.  xx

  

Keeping Chickens - TheUrbanFarmingGuys.com‎

www.theurbanfarmingguys.com/

Keeping Chickens: The ultimate beginners guide.

keeping-chickens.me.uk/



Keeping chickens – what you need to know | nidirect

www.nidirect.gov.uk/keeping-chickens-what-you-need-to-know






Thursday 16 April 2015

A Long Time Coming!

Hello there, remember me?

I know its been a while since I last posted anything, about anything but such a lot has been going on, not just with The Tessellation Saga, but also with me personally. Lets see, when did I last post...

Yes, last year ago, definitely too long ago.

Anyway, since my last post when I was so ecstatic about being chosen as runner up in the MARSocial International writing competition and the awesome press mentions my life took a bit of a downhill spiral when my little brother Tom, sadly passed away. Talk about having the stuffing knocked out of me. I'm sure we have all suffered loss at one time or another and I know we all react to loss individually. There is no right or wrong way to mourn someone you loved. For me I took time going through old photo's, listening to his music, mostly the awesome, Pink Floyd and Bob Marley, and just generally crying to myself and feeling guilty that I did not do enough to help him. How I could have helped him more I have no idea as such a stubborn man never existed before.
The Golden Valley
I remember once when we were children my siblings and I were in a children's home called Hillgarth, in Hindhead, Nr Guildford, Surrey. (It's not there anymore, the powers that be have turned the beautiful old house and acres of wooded gardens into a housing estate, as they do!) After church on Sunday mornings we would go for long walks through The Golden Valley, a beautiful valley across the road from the house. I'm not sure if 'Golden Valley' is the valley's real name, only that's the name we called it. It's situated in the same area as 'The Devil's Punchbowl' which is well documented and a truly inspirational place to visit if you get the chance. Its situated on the London to Portsmouth road.

Those Sunday walks always went on for miles both up hill and down, usually following the blueberry bushes as we ate ourselves sick. One particular Sunday not far from the beginning of our walk Tom lost the sole of one of his favourite shoes. Not entirely mind, just three quarters of it, from the heel of his shoe to about an inch in it was still attached fast and no amount of pulling could loosen it. Not wanting to return to the house to change his footwear or to miss out on the walk, stubborn Tommy proceeded to walk the rest of the way around the valley flicking his leg out to the side and then in front of him letting gravity and momentum push the errant sole into the correct place as he trod. We walked for miles that day and each step Tom smiled and joked as he did his own version of, 'The Ministry of Funny Walks' (Monty Python). I can see him now, smiling and laughing. It was so funny.
Tom and his beautiful daughter Sylvie.


Tom never read, 'The Tessellation Saga' but I told him about the story and being a runner up in the competition and he said he was proud of me.
Last weekend I was taking his daughter, my niece, who lives in Ireland, to the cemetery in  Weybridge, Surrey, to see her dads grave and we were just passing the monument near to where we lived as children and I was telling her about her dads love of motorbikes. His favourite bike, among many over his long biking career spanning Harley Davison's to Kawasaki's was a 'Ducatti 900ss Mike Hailwood Replica, in original red and green. I have a lovely picture of my own daughter as a tiny toddler sitting astride the 'Duc' with Uncle Tom proudly holding her still.  


Anyway, we had to stop in traffic for the zebra crossing and what should pull up and stop right beside us but a Ducatti 900ss Mike Hailwood Replica in original red and green. I was so excited, it felt like Tom was still with us and he is, I know it. He lives in my memories and in the pictures I hold dear. Thomas Charles was stubborn, sometimes irritating, lovable and charming, kissing many a young lady on the hand at totally the wrong time and he always had a eye for the girls, even whilst lying up in a hospital bed but he was my little brother and I loved him dearly as did all our family.

Actually, its been quite cathartic writing this, I've tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat and I can hear Tom calling to me, telling me, 'not to be such a sap!'



I'll always love and miss you Tom, until we meet again.

Dede x

Saturday 25 January 2014

International Writing Competition

Hi Guys,

Sorry if I've been a tad busy with the writing competition but I promise I'll get back to normal after Feb 1st! lol

Meantime take a look at this...

Yet another Press Release.

http://www.briefingwire.com/pr/meet-the-finalists-of-the-marsocial-author-of-the-year-contest

laters...........

Thursday 9 January 2014

Competition Time!


Hey Guys, 

I've been a tad busy lately and not posted for a while, however I want you all to know why I'm such a happy bunny.

I entered a competition at MARsocial and have actually got through as a finalist! I sent a link below if you want to take a look but I'll post the excerpt from the book I entered so you can read it for yourself.

If you like it please let me know. As you know the first two book(s) are available on Smashwords for free. All the books are available on both Amazon and Smashwords.

 
#MARSocial Author of the Year #Finalist. The Tessellation Saga, Prophecy’s Heir. By @Dede12012...marsocial.comThis is short synopsis from my Tessellation Saga Series. On Arotia, a prince is punished for using an outlawed form of magic, Blood Magic, his body is destroyed and his soul condemned to the void, ...

This excerpt is taken from Prophecy's Heir, the first book of The Tessellation Saga.

    The drizzle began to ease off as the wolf finally stopped above a small decline in the forest floor.  Bending almost double Jed placed his hands on his knees and threw up, his exertion making him sick; finally, with his stomach empty, he stood straight and stretched his back looking through a gap in the canopy high above him at the now clear sky, glad that at last the rain had stopped.  He had not had as much enforced exercise in years and was thoroughly exhausted, a gentle whine from Blue brought his gaze back to earth; the wolf was standing over something in the bracken.
    In the darkness before the dawn, the birds began to sing in praise of the new day.
    ‘Journey’s End!’  Jed exclaimed as he recognised what seemed to be the body of a girl.  More slipping than climbing down the wet muddy slope, he reached the body and tearing off his coat, he threw it to one side as the wolf turned toward the forest as if on guard.  The girl was lying on her side with blood still slowly trickling from a raw wound just below her shoulder and pooling beneath her.
    ‘She’s not dead boy,’ Jed said aloud, more to himself than to the waiting wolf, ‘but she ain’t gonna be with us fer long,’ he added, as he brushed away the myriad of tiny bugs already gathered and feeding off the nasty wound in her back.  Gently, turning her over, he noticed her extended belly.  ‘G’awd’s Strewth,’ he blasphemed, ‘she be young to be this way,’ tenderly; he brushed the hair from her face and covered her dying form with the blanket.  A soft moan escaped her lips.  ‘Miss… miss…,’ Jed began as her eyes fluttered open.  ‘I’ll stay with yer, you’ll no be alone…,’ he cuddled her to his chest as best he could, suddenly thinking of Mayan, his deceased wife, dying alone, scared and in such pain. ‘I’ll not let yer down agen…’ he said quietly as the tears began to roll down his face.
   ‘Please... please…,’ the girl struggled to speak startling Jed from his thoughts.  ‘Gath…,’ she whispered.       The wolf snapped its head around and stared intently at the girl.  ‘Save my baby, he wants my baby…,’ she pleaded as her life finally ebbed away.
The dawn had at last arrived bathing the scene with its promise of light and warmth and the day, one of the first nice days of the very late spring was going to be a good one as Jed held the dead body of the girl to his chest and wept into her hair.
    ‘Girl, I can’t save yer baby,’ he said quietly, ‘it be gone now… it be with you.’  The wolf howled as Jed wept with a prayer for her soul’s journey but just as he was about to put the body down he felt a violent kick in his stomach, in his astonishment he let the body of the girl fall to the ground with a thump.  The girl’s stomach was moving…  ‘The child be still livin’!’ Jed exclaimed hurriedly pulling aside her clothes and feeling her wet belly, the child inside kicked against his hand.  He reached for the girl’s wrist to feel for a pulse or sign of life as all the time her belly moved and kicked, the movements growing weaker and weaker as Jed worked on the mother.
    Taking his father’s knife he gently felt the sharp blade, I can do this… he thought, knowing he had birthed animals this way before, but then the mother’s were always alive, is this right?  He asked himself, the morality of the situation clouding his mind.
    ‘Blue, should I let the child go with its ma?’  He asked, wrought with indecision.  The wolf moved down beside the man it had already saved twice, it looked into Jed’s eyes and whined before gently licking his face.
    ‘SAVE IT.’ Jed heard.  Nodding silently, Jed gently sliced the dead flesh open, through the skin, through the muscle wall and into the womb.  He had to hurry, the child had no time, but still he took his time.  I will save this child… he thought as in his mind’s eye, he could see his dead wife smiling at him.  Discarding the knife, he reached between the bloody walls of the girl’s womb and felt for the infant.  It feebly punched at his hand.  Gently he pulled the small fragile body free of its mother’s corpse and tied off the cord attaching it to its dead mother with thread taken from the handle of his father’s knife.  Satisfied the knot was secure he cut the cord sharply, feeling the heat of the cord blood running over his fingers.  Holding the child by the ankles, he gently slapped its bottom; upside down, the tiny child still covered in blood and cream opened its eyes and screamed in anger.  Tears of laughter, sadness at the loss of the mother and joy of new life filled Jed’s heart as he gently wrapped the tiny gore covered child in his coat and placed the screaming bundle on the floor beside the wolf.
    ‘Watch the babe Blue, whilst I see to its ma,’ he said, as he tenderly began to cover the body of the young dead girl with the old blanket.  Noticing a small silver and crystal amulet around the girl’s neck, he removed it and put it carefully into his pocket, thinking to give it to the child later.
‘I got ter leave yer like this if I’m ter see ter yer boy, I’m sorry,’ he said as he brushed the hair from the girl’s face and closed the still open eyes.  ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t save you too, I’ll be back in a few days an’ I’ll bury yer proper like then,’ he said as he kissed the girl’s brow and reverently covered her face whispering a second prayer for her soul on its Final Journey.

So...

What do you think? Wish me luck it's the biggest competition of its kind anywhere!

Oh on another note, Hetty the hen has arrived and is comfortably ensconced in her new home. I'll post a little bit more about her in my next update! 

Now off to Zumba Zumba!

Byeeeee...........  til next time. :)

Thursday 19 December 2013

Christmas is coming ...

Hi guys...

So, three weeks of chest infection with two separate lots of antibiotics and still I have a snotty nose and a cough! Meantime I've helped my eldest move, become a dab hand with a hammer drill lost more than a few pounds lifting and shoving furniture and watched my grandson discover what a challenge stairs can be!
Such is life ...

All this and still 1500 words a day on The Tessellation Saga book 5!
I finally got our Xmas tree up today and at last feel like Xmas is coming.
Breaking news is...

Hubby has agreed I can get a chicken! Yeah

So, chicken house coming tomorrow, chicken (called Hetty) arriving Saturday and eggs soon after! Lol so excited.ill let you know.

Xxxxx pictures to follow! X


Wednesday 4 December 2013

The Tessellation Saga, book 4 Trail and Time

Hi again guys,

forgot to mention in my drugged up state that book 4 of the Tessellation Saga was published on Amazon a couple of days ago before the infection really kicked in. Take a look, gratifyingly I have already received a comment via the phone from an avid reader and she loved it. Nice one!!

Going again now, still feeling poorly.....................

Take a look...........


http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51VzOrqBpWL._AA160_.jpg

Bye............