Blog, Creative Shorts, New Writing

Natodola

 

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It was a biting mid-winter day. The journey began, clear and cold, as the train left London, but as it cut through the countryside, the skies clouded and by the time it arrived by the coast in north Wales, there was a sharp wind and an unrelenting slashing rain that came from black and blue thunder clouds.

The taxi driver looked away as Celebes exited the train station. She pulled her hood up and tapped on the window.  Begrudgingly, he lowered the window enough for her to say, ‘Natadola please’. He grunted, hit a button and the boot opened. Celebes let her one large suitcase drop into the boot with a thud, then lowered her backpack letting it slide in next to the dirty wheels.

The taxi was freezing, and the driver wore a coat buttoned up so high to his nose and a hat pulled down so close to his eyes that she couldn’t imagine how he could safely drive the car. Mum would not have approved. The driver tore through the countryside and puddles splashed up over the windscreen, the wipers not fast enough to clear the water as the taxi moved blindly through the narrow roads.

He turned down a wooded lane and came to an abrupt stop outside a large gate. Celebes sighed and said under her breath, ‘Christmas with Grandma Sia at Natadola’. It was clear that the driver was not going any further. Celebes could not remember exactly how far the Natadola was from the gate but if the driver would not go any further, she had no choice but to walk. Hauling her luggage out of the boot, she paid the driver and watched as he did a messy three-point turn that her driving instructor would have failed. The driver did not want to be here anymore than she did.

The black iron gate had rusted, and ivy grew wild up the large stone posts. A gargoyle sat on top of each post, resting on their haunches ready to pounce. Their stone eyes followed every movement.

Celebes approached the gate, pulling the case over the thick veins that crossed the pathway. She lifted the latch and pushed the gate wide enough to pass through.

The hill up to Natadola was steep. The closer she came to the clearing, the more the rain had eased to a misty drizzle. Seagulls squawked and circled above as she emerged from the wood. The top of the house, Natadola, was ahead.

There was no direct entrance for cars. No driveway to the front door. No dropping off point. Only side paths and roads. Celebes approached the house from the left side and stopped in front of the stone steps that led to the front of the house. Steep and narrow, moss grew along both sides the steps. The skeleton plants that grew along the bank did not offer any sense of welcome. About halfway up the steps, there was a small landing with two pillars of red brick and a smaller iron gate. Celebes balanced the suitcase on the last step and pulled the gate open. It scraped a well-worn track on the stone, and as she ascended the final few steps, Celebes pushed her hood back and Natodola came into full view.


All pictures and writing are my own unless otherwise credited. Permission must be obtained before any image reproduction and credit must be issued in any image reproduction or quotations. 


 

 

Blog, Creative Shorts, New Writing

To The Tower

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Lucy crept along the rough stones of the arrow loop. The light illuminated the stone wall but was blinding the closer she came to the narrow slit. The space was narrower than she thought towards the end; it was just big enough for her slim body. She had no idea how a grown man fit in the arrow loop to rain arrows down at the enemy. She paused, squatted down and leaned her head towards the opening as she lifted her skirt up and pushed it backwards. She squeezed in further.

‘What do you see? What do you see?’ her Clem asked from behind her.

‘Will you be quiet for just a minute.’ Lucy said craning her neck further towards the light.

‘Are they coming? They’re going to kill us all, aren’t they?’ Clem began to pace and down the walk between the castle walls, clenching and unclenching his hands.

‘I can’t…I can’t see enough.’ Lucy said.

‘They’ll break in…maybe from underground. Or swim the moat. Scale the batter at the bottom of the castle wall, shimmy up the stones and over the top and onto the wall walk and then boom…arrow after arrow…they’ll take down every defender until they get to us and…’

‘Will you stop talking. I can’t hear.’ She said calmly.

Clem stood still with his hands behind his back like his father, like he was in control. He looked down at the stones and counted them from one side of the wall to the other as his mother told him when he felt the panic rising. He had wished he had taken a knife from the kitchen and looped it in his belt like the men, but when he went to put his arm out, it froze to his side as if it was tied to his body with the strongest leather.

‘Nothing. There is no one attacking from this side of the castle. It must be from the other side.’ Lucy said as she crept backwards.  Stepping down on to the walkway, Lucy stood up straight and said, ‘Come on. Let’s run to the other side.’

Lucy grabbed Clem’s hand, her twin and Gemini, alike in many ways except she was older, but only by a minute or two which gave her a commanding nature. She was stronger, but only because she was taller. She was quicker, but only because she practiced racing against the fastest soldiers when she was allowed. She pulled him along the castle walkway. Lucy loved this part of the castle was because instead of filling the whole space in between the walls with rubble, they build a walkway halfway up, so you travel all around the castle walls and still be inside and access to the first level of arrow loops. Most of the men went up to the walk at the top of the castle to prepare for the attack. But a few stayed back and took up positions near Lucy and Clem.

A door crashed open behind them. Stopped abruptly, they held their breath and waited for the arrows to pierce their backs. Nothing. Strong fingers curled around their necks.

‘Lady Lucinda and Prince Clement. What do you think you’re doing?’ The hands shook their bodies and their heads wobbled in a strange detached way.

‘Nurse!’ They said in unison relieved and frightened at the same time. Clem was sure that being captured by the enemy would be far better than being caught by Nurse.

‘Nurse indeed. Your Mother will have your heads if you two are not upstairs in the tower immediately.’

Nurse pushed them through the door and up several flights of steps. Screams came from below. As they reached the tower, the noise below grew faint, and Nurse let go of them long enough unlock the large oak door to the top tower room with the key that always hung from her skirt.

‘Hurry.’ She said stepping aside.

They crossed the threshold. Mother turned to greet them, a sword in each hand.


All pictures and writing are my own unless otherwise credited. Permission must be obtained before any image reproduction and credit must be issued in any image reproduction or quotations. 


 

Blog, Creative Shorts, New Writing

Moon Shadows

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I rowed faster. The sun was setting and soon the reflection of the clouds on the river would dissipate and the darkening sky would meld with the blackening river. It would not be safe once the sky and river fused, where the clouds met clouds, and the sun met sun. The duality of the day would be released into singular Moon Shadows and the river was no place to be when the Moon Shadows reared their ugly heads. I rowed faster.

The bridge in the distance held hands with the sky and river, swinging between them like a child between its parents on a walk. More sinister with every passing moment, the bridge in the distance extended its fingers and each claw clung to the darkening sky above and the resistant river below.

I rowed faster. Light was not on my side. The ripples of the clouds reflected in the river giving a sense that in their whiteness, a goodness could see me across. But the river current grew strong with the setting sun and the cumulus clouds fractured into featureless horizontal threads and exposed the night seeping through from above. I rowed faster.

I blinked. It was a moment, but that was all it took. The sun fell behind the bridge and it amalgamated the sky and river. Blackness descended. I was alone on the river. There was no telling where I had started and where I was going. I stopped rowing.

The Moon Shadows would not be long. I pulled the oars out of the river and let them lay longways in the boat, resting against my legs and sat still not daring more than shallow breaths. I would have to wait until sunrise, until the Moon Shadows disappeared. The blackness eased slightly, and in the distance, a faint glow seeped through the stratus clouds. The moon. I crossed my arms as if I could hug away the Moon Shadows. Rising and falling with the flow of the river, I felt the boat shift. Who knew where I would end up?

Could I remain frozen, petrified, in one position all night and avoid the Moon Shadows? Would it be safer to continue rowing to the other side? Mother and Father would surely have said no.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimmer of the moon rising opposite to where the sun had set. This was it. The Moon Shadows would start to ascend. The air was still but river current swelled and the white caps formed catching the glimmer of the moon as they grew.

Everyone knew to beware of the white caps. Everyone knew. Yet, here I was. In between the white caps and the soaring Moon Shadows. Majestic and mesmerising yet malignant. Their deleterious effects well known; I would be lucky to see morning with only hint of madness on my soul.


All pictures and writing are my own unless otherwise credited. Permission must be obtained before any image reproduction and credit must be issued in any image reproduction or quotations.