tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58265191111039515242024-02-19T00:49:13.625-05:00Lisa ForgetLisa Forgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05403945102147940070noreply@blogger.comBlogger72125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5826519111103951524.post-50508396647430323632021-01-18T20:28:00.000-05:002021-01-18T20:28:29.848-05:00"Three Minutes" by Lisa Forget<p style="text-align: center;"> <span style="text-align: justify;">When my eldest daughter was studying social work in college, she met a 94-year-old man at a senior’s residence who told her that when he was 92, he died for three minutes.</span><span style="text-align: justify;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i><b>“When I died, it was like every dream I ever dreamed came back to me, all at once…”</b></i> he told her.<i><o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><o:p> </o:p>“Three Minutes” was inspired by those words.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-no-proof: yes;"><span style="text-align: justify;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrqY5OoPtrXNKjnZATSCb6O5emLkCO9TN_iCg_SfUauNwaV1Bkaoml968a5-ra_wM97S41pHUk7mcoKZ0jBMvh2xVBoolOROWgqqbOJELfUPKkVd9n6mifNnIrIPkUGotT0w6IVp04tco/s214/Screenshot+2021-01-18+201921+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="214" data-original-width="201" height="339" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrqY5OoPtrXNKjnZATSCb6O5emLkCO9TN_iCg_SfUauNwaV1Bkaoml968a5-ra_wM97S41pHUk7mcoKZ0jBMvh2xVBoolOROWgqqbOJELfUPKkVd9n6mifNnIrIPkUGotT0w6IVp04tco/w319-h339/Screenshot+2021-01-18+201921+%25282%2529.jpg" width="319" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 22.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">“THREE MINUTES”</span> </p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">By <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Lisa Forget<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><i><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Beep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Beep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Beep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span><span lang="EN-US">Beeeeeeeeeeeee…</span></i><i><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span lang="EN-US">“Doctor, we’re
losing her!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><i><span lang="EN-US">…eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><i><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><i><span lang="EN-US">“</span></i><span lang="EN-US">Nurse, hurry, get me the-”…<i>eeeeeep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><i><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ping.<st1:place w:st="on"></st1:place><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">The clouds are so white.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The air is so clean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m soaring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Up, up and away in my beautiful balloon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m singing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My voice is
flawless, pure and true.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The wind gusts
past me, blowing through my long, silky hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It tangles in the wind and I laugh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I love to fly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">I’m landing in green fields.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m in Ireland.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know how I know but I remember this
moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I imagined it once when I was
eight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I look down at my hands, ivory
skin glistens a youthful glow in the sunshine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I realize I am eight and I am immersed in something wonderful, a new
reality.<st1:country-region w:st="on"></st1:country-region><st1:place w:st="on"></st1:place><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">I jump from the wicker basket onto the ground.
Long, lime-coloured grass tickles my legs as I run through the velvet fields.
I’m anxious to reach the path leading to the castle sitting atop the hill in
the distance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People are waiting for me.
I hear them calling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I run faster.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">I’m falling. I land on a rock jutting out from
a cliff. I look down. Water crashes against craggy rocks. I push myself away
from the rock’s edge and lean against wet, pungent, black earth. I feel roots and
vines and both my hands grip on tight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
call out and hear nothing but the water below. I look up and know if I could
just climb the damp wall behind me, I’d find my family sitting fifty yards away
enjoying a picnic lunch on a blanket laid out on luscious green grass. I turn
quickly, praying I won’t slip and fall. I’m crying and calling for Daddy as I
reach for gnarly bits of root sticking out of the dirt. I try repeatedly but my
fingers slip and my feet never find purchase on anything solid enough to give
me leverage. I pant and begin to feel dizzy. The view pans out and I see
myself, alone on a jagged rock, one step away from death. I have lived this
moment countless times. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">I’m running again in the field where I landed
the hot-air balloon. There’s a light in the window of the castle on the hill. I
hear music. I hear singing. I smell Irish soda bread baking in a clay oven. I
veer left.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">I’m in a procession with a sea of beautifully
dressed children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mother made the
dress I’m wearing. It’s my Communion. We’re all God’s little children and we’re
going to make our sacrament together. I arrive at the altar. I’m wearing my
wedding dress. My mother made this dress, too. The church is filled with pink
roses and white baby’s breath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My true
love stands beside me. His feelings for me make him tear up. I smile. He takes
my hand and squeezes it. I look around. My family is there, as well as all my
friends who walked with me in the communion procession. They’ve been with me
forever it seems. I’m blissfully happy.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">I scream. I’m in unbearable pain. My insides
are on fire. It ends abruptly. I hold a wet, wiggly creature in my arms. It’s
warm and I want to hold it carefully so I don’t break it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I look down. My first-born is beautiful. Her
face changes and I see my second whose tiny perfect face morphs into my third
whose rosy cheeks look like strawberry ice cream. I feel warm and wet, just
like the angels in my arms. I’m bleeding and blood is dripping from the
hospital bed. There’s panic around me but I survive this ordeal as I’ve
survived many in my lifetime.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Drums are beating. The fields are drenched in
starlight. There are more candles in the windows. Someone is waiting; I think
it’s my prince. I have to go…soon.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">A whistle blows and a teapot is filled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hear a gurgle and smell fresh coffee. My
plate is full with date squares and shortbread cookies. My kitchen is abuzz
with laughter. I’m wending my way through the group of people standing around
my table and leaning against my counters. I don’t know any of them, yet I know
one day I will. I wander into the living room. There are musicians with guitars
and penny flutes and I hear a melody coming from the player piano.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t even know it still worked. I make my
way toward the music and stop to sing a verse of the lively folk song they’re
playing and then I turn, making my way out the front door. The musicians follow
me and we form a parade, and then we march out into the street. I’m in the
midst of a photograph I’ve seen before, in a book about the past. I’m waving at
myself.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">The parade marches on through the streets of
the bustling city. Everyone I’ve ever known, and thousands I don’t, have lined
the sidewalks. There are batons twirling in the air and trumpets blasting
familiar tunes. There’s cotton candy in a rainbow of colours and frothy drinks
being slurped up through foot-long straws. On my right, an elderly lady is
walking my dog, Sparky. I buried him in my back yard, under the maple tree,
when I was fifteen. He barks a happy hello to me. I say thank you to the lady
who’s walking him. I don’t know why I thank her, maybe it’s because the dog
saved my life once and I’m grateful someone is looking after him until I can do
so again. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">I hear my name being called and I realize it
wasn’t my given name I’d heard but “Grandma”, one of the many names people call
me. I turn toward the voice. It’s my grandson and he’s smiling at me. Standing
behind him is my sister, and behind her is my cousin, and behind him is my
teacher from first grade who is walking arm-in-arm with my best friend Sally.
As the crowd parts, I see my parents. The parade stops. I know now I must be in
Heaven because it’s the only place my mother and father and all of these
wonderful people could be. I change course, making my way toward them. They
lift their arms ready to embrace me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">I hear the music again, the music coming from
the castle. It makes me pause. I have tried to not listen to it but it is
hauntingly persistent. I will have to go and tell the people making such lovely
music to stop, that I’m busy at the moment. I make a sign to my parents but
they are gone. So is the parade. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">My feet are on soft soil. I am in front of the
castle. My prince is standing in the window; his face is that of my true love.
I’m wearing a fairy tale gown of lavender and iridescence that billows in the
heather-scented breeze. I am young. I am old. I am ageless. I make my way to
the entrance of the castle and as I reach for the door my chest bursts into
flames. My eyes widen and I am blinded.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">“She’s coming to…” I hear. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">I am struck dumb. I am lying on a cold surface
and my lips are sealed. I shake my head. I know my eyes are full, but of what,
I can’t say. I’m confused. Where am I?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">“In the hospital,” the voice answers. I must
have voiced my question aloud.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">“W..what happened?” My aged voice falters as
air passes, with much difficulty, through my dry throat.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">“You died, Mrs. O’Brien,” the doctor says,
adjusting the tubes taped to my wrist. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">“D..ied?” I ask.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">“You were gone for three minutes,” the nurse
replies, taking my hand in hers.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">It’s no wonder they’re touching me, to them I
must be immortal.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">“Th…ree?” My lungs won’t cooperate, giving me
only enough air to manage a couple of words at a time.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">“You rest now,” the nurse says. Your family is
here. They’ll be waiting for you when you wake up.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">“Yes,” I say, closing my eyes. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">I know what she says is true. What I want to
tell her is, they’re waiting on the other side as well, but I’m too tired to
force another word from my lips. I feel myself succumb to sleep. I welcome it;
embrace the warmth of the little spot in my mind where I’ll dream more dreams I
know will welcome me when it’s truly time to go.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"> </p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">~ (c) 2011~<br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
<u><o:p></o:p></u></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Lisa Forgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05403945102147940070noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5826519111103951524.post-4616779860228574652020-08-02T14:06:00.004-04:002020-08-02T14:09:22.229-04:00"Love Eternal" by Lisa Forget - chapters 13 & 14<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiQqAu3-_85nGKmPh6Fxd06-pow-oj6mm77GQ2WVdBy0KHagnpDSv0B1wMiNR0aiCTtsqFoP9lMPwL6TpLxiQJ6DqdL9JLdFHDUTK6eXW2urMesBcXJbeuI2LI2GF5ffxUrqCh1vA1B3o/s1600/celtic-woman-welsh-scottish-female-preview+edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="457" data-original-width="485" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiQqAu3-_85nGKmPh6Fxd06-pow-oj6mm77GQ2WVdBy0KHagnpDSv0B1wMiNR0aiCTtsqFoP9lMPwL6TpLxiQJ6DqdL9JLdFHDUTK6eXW2urMesBcXJbeuI2LI2GF5ffxUrqCh1vA1B3o/s320/celtic-woman-welsh-scottish-female-preview+edited.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<h3 style="line-height: 150%;">
</h3>
<h3 style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 150%;">Chapter Thirteen</span></h3>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>In the forest near Talgarth Castle, Wales<o:p></o:p></b><br />
<b>5<sup>th</sup> Century</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Dwynwen lost
consciousness during the last moments of Maelon’s assault against her. She did
not see the Prince’s vicious smile as he stood over her twisted body which lay
in a heap on the ground. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
He looked
absolutely pleased with himself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“You will not
forget this night, Princess. My regards to your betrothed…” he sneered,
disappearing into the darkness.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Moments later a
sudden rush of wind blew across Dwynwen’s breast. Her skin lay bare in the cold
night air, and she shivered. Opening her eyes, she looked down at her body and gasped.
Her tunic was torn and smeared with blood. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Pulling the fabric
closed, hiding her nakedness, she rose unsteadily to her knees. Weeping and
disoriented, she tried to stand, desperate to leave the woods and return to the
castle, but she ached from the force of Maelon’s violence and she stumbled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Her heart was
ripped to shreds by a man whose soul was black and evil. A man who lusted, and
who casted the illusion of love. She wondered if her father had sensed the
truth about him, and if that was the reason he had been so angry.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
In pain and deeply
ashamed, she let out a cry of despair. It would have gripped the soul of anyone
who heard it, but Dwynwen lay deep in the thick of the forest, where no one
could hear her cries or were too drunk to notice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Finding strength
deep within her, Dwynwen finally rose to her feet. She stumbled her way through
the shadows of the forest, flinching with every painful step. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
When at last she
reached the edge of the garden she saw the guards asleep by the far wall and
she slipped back into the castle. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Dwynwen moved
silently in the corridors, fearful she would be discovered. A rush of relief
raced through her when she pushed open her chamber door and found no one
waiting for her there. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
She quietly closed
the door and leaned back against it, catching her breath. The smell of Maelon’s
seed wafted up, sickening her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Tearing the tunic
from her body, she threw the soiled garment into a covered basket in the corner
of the room. A basin of water sat on the floor by the window and Dwynwen
plunged her hands into the icy water, desperate to scour all traces of him from
her body. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Bruises were
forming on her thighs and arms. For weeks, to come, they would serve to remind
her of the gravest error she had ever made. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
As she wrapped the
woollen cover around her aching body, she promised herself she would never
allow her father to find out what had happened to her, fearful of his rage and
of the consequences. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
As she lay on her
bed, listening to the fading sounds of the celebrations below, she prayed come
morning, she would know what to do.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
* *
* *<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
It was the break
of dawn when Dwywen awoke to the sound of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>the servant girl entering her chamber. She carried a torch ablaze with
the flame of the feast fires. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Dwynwen watched
her rekindle the fire in the hearth. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Will you need anything this morning?” the
servant girl asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“No. I thank you.”
Dwynwen brushed the hair back from her face.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Are you certain, my lady?” The young girl’s
expression made Dwynwen tuck her arms under the cover. She had seen the
bruises.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I am,” she said
in the most cheerful manner she could muster. “I am sure you are needed in the
kitchen. There will be many mouths to feed this morning.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“As you wish…” The
girl bowed and left, with a worried look sitting on her brow. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Dwynwen did not
waste a moment. Bolting from the warmth of her bed, she threw the torn and soiled
tunic from the basket straight into the fire.<o:p></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Chapter
Fourteen<o:p></o:p></span></h3>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Angel’s Cove, Newfoundland<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>1935<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“You’ve got
everything you need, I’m sure of it” Anne laughed as she watched Gwen struggle
to close the suitcase filled to capacity. “Although you might want to bring
along a little sun, I’ve heard it rains a lot over there.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“How would you
know?” Gwen asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I read it
somewhere,” she replied, lending a hand with the luggage lock.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Gwen smirked.
“I’ll pick up an umbrella when I get there.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“You’ll have to. There’s
no room in here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
A rap sounded at
the front door.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You finish up. I’ll get it.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anne said, quickly making her way down the
stairs.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Be nice.” Gwen
felt a sudden attack of unsteady nerves. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I will.” Anne
replied, then opened the front door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Good morning, you
must be Miss Reilly. I’m Liam Pryce.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Anne cleared her
throat, trying to hide her surprise at the sight of Mr. Pryce who did not look
like the old-uncle type she thought he'd be. The man wasn’t just handsome; he
could sell magazines with his looks alone. She stood speechless. Mr. Pryce
politely waited for an answer. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Miss Evans is
expecting me,” he prompted.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes, yes, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>of course. “She’ll be right down. Won’t you
please come in?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anne opened the door, inviting
him to step into the house. “I guess Gwen told you she and I are old friends.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“She did.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“She told me a
little about you, too. You’re younger than I expected,” she said. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Can I get you a cup of tea?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
As she descended
the stairs, Gwen could hear Liam decline Anne’s offer, explaining he’d
just finished breakfast.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Bea sent you off
with a hearty feast, I’m sure.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Liam glanced up at
her standing on the steps, and smiled. “That she did.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Look at you all
buffed, shined and dressed to impress.” Gwen teased.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Did it work?” Liam’s
gaze rested on Gwen.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Definitely a
snappy dresser, and she was right about your accent,” Anne said, taking in
Liam’s fine suit and shoes. “She said I’d like it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Did she? Well,
that’s a start.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“She also said you’re
sensible, and that’s what is most important. Gwen has a keen sense about
people.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Liam smiled, and Gwen
felt a rush of warmth color her cheeks.<b><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“That’s good to
know,” he said. “I’m happy to hear it.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“You’re an angel
for agreeing to keep an eye on the house, Anne.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Don’t worry about
anything. I promise not to kill the plants.” Anne’s smile gave way to a look of
concern. “You’ll be back in two weeks, right?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Gwen wanted to
share with her the things she and Liam had discussed. She wanted to tell
her about her dreams and about the pendant, but a practical girl like Anne
wouldn’t understand. She had to keep this one and only secret from her closest
friend, or risk worrying her even more. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyway,
how could she explain something she didn’t truly understand herself?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes, and I’ll
call as soon as I get there.” Gwen put her arms around Anne and hugged her. “I’ll
be sending postcards, too.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Always nice to
get something in the mail.” Anne quickly wiped a tear away from her cheek. “Have
a safe journey.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Liam picked up Gwen’s
suitcase. “Ready to go?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I think so,” she replied, sweeping a quick
look around for anything she may have forgotten. She patted her handbag where
her passport and a few of the photos she’d recently found were safely tucked
away in the side compartment. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I have a cab waiting
outside.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Goodbye Mr. Pryce.
It was very nice meeting you.” Anne looked at the young man intently. “I
trust you’ll take the very best care of Gwen.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“With my life.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Gwen didn’t miss
the note of sincerity in his statement. By the way Anne’s brow arched, neither
did she.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
As she stood by
the cab, Gwen’s gaze was drawn to her mother’s bedroom window. A flicker, like
a candle, reflected on the glass. She blinked and it disappeared. Her mind was
playing tricks on her, she thought, silently bidding her mother farewell as she
slid into the idling <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">De Soto</st1:place></st1:city>.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I need to leave
word with Reverend Matthews that I’ll be away.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“By all means,” he
replied, sliding in next to her. “Sir, we’ll be making a stop at the parsonage,
just off the main road, before we leave Angel's Cove.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Certainly, Mr.
Pryce,” replied the driver.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
As the car headed
down the dirt road, Anne waved from the porch. Gwen raised her hand in reply,
confident she’d be waiting for her when she returned.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
* *
* *<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
A few minutes
later, in hopes of avoiding a potentially difficult exchange with Reverend
Matthews, Gwen slipped a brief but detailed note into the mail slot at the
parsonage. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Then she slid back
into the cab and they veered toward route 100.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />Lisa Forgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05403945102147940070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5826519111103951524.post-36370444719628072512020-07-08T19:04:00.001-04:002020-07-08T19:13:53.821-04:00"Love Eternal" by Lisa Forget - Chapters 11 & 12<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiQqAu3-_85nGKmPh6Fxd06-pow-oj6mm77GQ2WVdBy0KHagnpDSv0B1wMiNR0aiCTtsqFoP9lMPwL6TpLxiQJ6DqdL9JLdFHDUTK6eXW2urMesBcXJbeuI2LI2GF5ffxUrqCh1vA1B3o/s1600/celtic-woman-welsh-scottish-female-preview+edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="457" data-original-width="485" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiQqAu3-_85nGKmPh6Fxd06-pow-oj6mm77GQ2WVdBy0KHagnpDSv0B1wMiNR0aiCTtsqFoP9lMPwL6TpLxiQJ6DqdL9JLdFHDUTK6eXW2urMesBcXJbeuI2LI2GF5ffxUrqCh1vA1B3o/s320/celtic-woman-welsh-scottish-female-preview+edited.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<h3 style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 150%;"><i>Check the blog archive on the right for previous chapters....</i></span></h3>
<h3 style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman", serif;">Chapter
Eleven</span></h3>
<div class="MsoFooter" style="line-height: 150%; mso-outline-level: 1; tab-stops: .5in;">
<st1:placename w:st="on"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Talgarth</b></st1:placename><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Castle</st1:placetype></b><b><span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 20.0pt;">, <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Wales</st1:country-region></st1:place></span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoFooter" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .5in;">
<b><span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 20.0pt;">5<sup>th</sup> century </span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 20.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“The sacred Three
to save, to shield, to surround, the hearth, the house, the household, this
eve, this night, O this eve, this night, and every night, each single night.
Amen."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
The prayer echoed
throughout the castle as the fire was ceremoniously dampened in the hearth of
the great hall.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Outside, the
bonfire burned brightly, and according to tradition, come morning, its embers
would be used to relight the fire of the great hall, symbolizing rebirth. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Dwynwen watched as
the anticipation and the merriment grew among the guests encircling the
impressive glowing tower of fire. Her own pulse quickened when Prince Maelon
wended through the crowd, making his way toward her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
As he approached
his eyes shifted to Dwynwen’s oldest brother Nectan standing beside her. He
nodded to him then stood before Dwynwen and took her hand in his. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Princess.” He bowed,
kissing the back of her hand, brushing his moist lips against her soft skin. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Dwynwen breathed
in his intoxicating musky scent as he lifted his head and their eyes met. An
exhilarating sensation coursed through her body. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
She bowed to him
and then he turned, continuing to round the great fire, determination in his
step. Dwynwen stood trembling as she watched the man she loved approach her
father standing twenty paces before him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
After witnessing
his fond regard for Maelon, Dwynwen was certain her father would consider the
prince a worthy match for her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Prince Maelon
bowed before her father. He inclined his head and Dwynwen saw him request a
private audience. Her father looked over at her. Dwynwen was startled when she
saw the flash of anger cross his face. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What have you done?” Nectan whispered when he
noticed his father’s reaction.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I did nothing,” she
replied. “Is there fault in finding true love, brother?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“There is when one
is already promised, sister,” he hissed. “You are not at liberty to avail
yourself to another. Do not think your actions over these past days have gone
unnoticed. Father reigns over this land. Do you not understand he sees and
knows everything?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Speaking with
Nectan was like hearing her father’s voice. The heir to the throne shared the
same mind as their father. Surely if he knew of Prince Maelon’s intentions, so
did her father. King Brychan was just and honourable. Although good-natured and
loving, making him angry could be deadly. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I must go to
them!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dwynwen fled from the feast fires
to join Maelon where she would defend their love and intentions.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
As she entered the
hall, the sound of raised voices came from her father’s council room. Both men
were adamantly making their point.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Father,” Dwynwen
stood in the doorway. “Please forgive us.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
The shouting
ceased when she entered the room. Her father whirled around, his face flushed, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a sure sign he was furious. Her heart was
heavy at the sight of him looking so upset.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“What is betwixt
us, our love for each other, although sudden, is a gift from above.” She tried
to be strong while she defended their love, but as she traveled across the
room, tears streamed down her face.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Please father… Allow me to tell you what is
in my heart.” She reached out for him but he didn’t take her hand.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“In this matter,
what is in your heart is of no importance. You are promised to a man who is, at
this moment, sailing the oceans securing your future kingdom.” Her father could
not look at her, his disappointment too great.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Father, I beg
you, please listen to me. I do not love the man of whom you speak. He is a
stranger to me, someone who could very well be dead.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Dwynwen tried to
picture the man she had met the day her father announced her betrothal. The
very day he had set sail for a voyage on the stormy seas eighteen moons ago.
Gone so long, surely she was the furthest thing from his mind.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Their betrothal
was the furthest thing from her heart.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I love the man who stands before you.” Dwynwen
kneeled before her father pleading with him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
The Prince could
not believe his ears. The thought he would not win the hand of this young woman
made something dark surface in his consciousness. Accustomed to taking what he
wanted, none dared refuse him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Your majesty,
although the man you speak of may be <i>great</i>,” he growled, controlling the
rage building in his chest. “I assure you there is none greater than the wealth
of my family and the prestige attached to our name.” His silky voice held venom
in its tone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
In two steps the
King stood nose to nose with Maelon.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“You may be
representing your father here among us, but you by no means are the same man.”
He glared at the young prince.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Based on his honour, I extended leniency when
you were bestowing attentions upon my daughter. I trusted no harm would come
from them. A passing fancy. How you have proved me wrong.” He spat. “You do not
know your place. Your arrogance astounds me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
The King swung
around and addressed his daughter. “You are promised to Liam apRhys.” He saw
the anguish in her eyes. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
It almost broke
him. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I have given him
my word upon his arrival, you will be wed.” His tone assured Dwynwen these were
his final words on the matter.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
He turned his
attention to the Prince. “A betrothal has previously been made, you understand
my situation.” Diplomacy rang clear in the room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It would be greatly appreciated if you would
leave the festivities, immediately.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
All things
considered, the Prince was extremely fortunate—graced by God and by the king’s
love for his favourite daughter—the verbal exchange with the King had ended as
it had. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Although arrogant,
the Prince was not daft, so with a bow to both Dwynwen and the King, he left
the council chamber. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Unlike his
entrance upon his arrival that first day in the great hall, his exit went
unnoticed as he disappeared into the night.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Overcome by sadness
and with a heart wrenching cry of despair, Dwynwen crumbled to the floor. The
King could not console his beloved daughter and so he sent for a servant to aide
her in retiring to her private chamber. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Anwylyd, my
darling child…” he uttered the endearment as he gathered her in his arms. “Liam
is a good man and he will care for you. Yours will be a most joyous marriage,
this I promise you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
He helped Dwynwen
to her feet when the servant arrived, then he returned to the festivities, his
expression void of any happiness. The laughter and music rising from the castle
grounds ensured him the guests were oblivious to what had taken place within
his council chamber. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
He exchanged a
knowing look with his eldest son as he took his place at the fire. Nectan
nodded, trusting his father had everything well in hand. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
The king stared
into the feast fires and prayed what he promised to his daughter was the truth.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
#<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>#<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>#<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Dwynwen obediently
went to her chamber accompanied by the servant. A kind and gentle woman, she had
tended to her and her sisters, since they were young girls. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“All will be well
in the morning.” Idelle promised as Dwynwen wrapped herself in the woollen
cover she gave her upon entering the room.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
She lay down on
her bed and willed herself to stop crying. Idelle sat beside her on a stool by
the bed. Dwynwen settled and her breathing calmed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I thank you
Idelle for staying with me,” she said, laying a hand on the woman’s knee. “I
wish to rest now,” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I will stay until
you have fallen asleep,” she replied, stroking Dwynwen’s hair, the sensation
causing her to close her eyes and lay still. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
After a time,
Idelle, convinced Dwynwen was asleep, finally left the chamber. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
With the door
closed and the sound of Idelle’s steps fading, Dwynwen ran to the window overlooking
the garden, longing to be in her prince’s arms once again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
She listened for
footsteps outside her door and peered out into the corridor. Confident, the
festivities had lured everyone outside, she left her chamber, slipping out of the
castle by the rear entrance leading into the garden. It had grown quite dark
and with no light to guide her way, she carefully searched the paths she and
Maelon had walked earlier this afternoon.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Behind the wall
surrounding the garden a dense forest loomed. It was the one which Maelon had
told her he had crossed to arrive at the castle. Knowing she must find him and
convince him she would change her father’s mind she entered the dark woods, spurred
by her fear of losing Maelon forever.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Successfully
averting the guards’ attention, Dwynwen slipped out into the garden. Moving as
quickly and as far from the castle as she could, she called out Maelon’s name. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Deeper into the
forest she ran, no longer aware of the shadows around her, only desperate to
find her love.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
As the moments
raced by, she began to feel a pain in her breast and slowed her pace to catch
her breath. The snap of a twig coming from behind her spun her around. Someone
stood amid the dark shapes looming through the trees. It moved closer and Maelon
came into view. Dwynwen’s heart fluttered and she darted toward him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Did you not think
to tell me of the arrangement you had with this, this, Liam apRhys?” he spat
the name as though it left a foul taste in his mouth. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
His angry voice
halted her steps. “I could think only of you,” she replied. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Do you play games
at the expense of my honour?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maelon
circled Dwynwen. A streak of moonlight across his face, his eyes flashed
furious. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I do not love
Prince Liam. I swear to you. I love you Maelon, from the moment I saw you. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wish to be yours.” Dwynwen reached out but
the prince did not take her into his arms as she had hoped. He grimaced at her
as though she was scarred by disease.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Confused by his
hostility, Dwynwen began to back away. No longer the gentle, charming man she
had given her heart to, a dark and dangerous man stood before her. Fear crept
into her heart. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I will not be
made a fool, Dwynwen,” he spat, his words like venom. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
An innocent soul,
Dwynwen could not know how well her handsome prince hid the demons deep inside
his black heart. She would soon find out as she met them face-to-face. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Determined no
other would have her, Maelon lunged at Dwynwen, first shredding her garments,
and then ripping the innocence from her body. Repeatedly he thrust into her, pounding
her tiny body into the damp forest floor as he crushed her will, her heart, and
finally charring her soul. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
On the
long-awaited night of rebirth, love turned to hate, joyous beginnings turned to
violent endings, and hope turned to despair. Denying her the tenderness of his
promised true love, he committed a violent and savage act upon her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Her cries went
unheard, her prayers unanswered. Prince Maelon left Dwynwen Brycheiniog broken,
her virtue lost in the dark forest of giant oaks. Alone, under the stars in the
darkness of the ancient woodlands, she hung on to life by a tiny silver thread.<o:p></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Chapter
Twelve<o:p></o:p></span></h3>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; mso-outline-level: 1;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Angel’s Cove<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; mso-outline-level: 1;">
<st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Newfoundland</span></b></st1:state></st1:place><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">1935<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Gwen didn’t know
what to say. Staring into Liam’s eyes, afraid her feelings might be written all
over her face, she turned away.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Should she tell
him of the dream where he reached for her? Where they reached for each other?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“What’s wrong,
Gwen?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Liam’s voice sent a shiver though
her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Nothing,” she replied,
stepping away from the tree. She cast her eyes over the brook, watching the
water trickle over the smooth pebbles at the bottom of its bed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Gwen, I have to
go and see the chapel,” he said. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I need
to know why it’s been haunting my dreams.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“So, you think it
exists?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I know it does.”
He bent down, picking up a dark grey stone out of the water.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“How can you be so
sure?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Sometimes, we
just have to have faith.” He studied the stone, rubbing his thumb against a
white vein running down the middle of its smooth surface. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“My mother used to
say the same thing,” Gwen mused.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“What about you?” He
threw the stone back into the brook. It left a ripple in the water. “Do you
have faith, Gwen?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I’d like to think
I do.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Then come with me.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">‘You must follow your heart…’</i> Her
mother’s voice resounded, the words from her letter echoing in her head. Could this
be what her mother meant?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was it
possible she could have known she’d need a little push somewhere down the road?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Gwen looked into
Liam’s warm brown eyes, searching for reasons to doubt.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Follow your heart.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“When do we
leave?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
* *
* *<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
The next few hours passed in a
flurry of activity. When she awoke this morning, she never would have believed
how the events of the previous day would so drastically change her life.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
A knock sounded at
the front door.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“You’re back already?”
she said, opening the door. “Lia-”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Where have you
been?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve been worried sick!” Anne flew
into the house, her fair skin flushed as she brushed past Gwen. She whirled
around, her hands fisted on her hips with her toes tapping an angry rhythm on
the hallway floor. Her temper reared its dark Irish head, staring out at her
from deep emerald eyes. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I’m so sorry Anne.
I meant to call you. I had to go out this morning. I took a ride to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Placentia</st1:place></st1:city> and stopped in
for a tea at Mrs. Barter’s.” In all the excitement, Gwen hadn’t given thought
to how she was going to explain a trip to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Wales</st1:country-region></st1:place> to her over-protective best
friend. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“<st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Placentia</st1:place></st1:city>! Why…oh, never mind. I thought I’d give
you some breathing room. I understood your going to see Reverend Matthews
yesterday without me, but when I didn’t hear from you this morning I dropped by
to see if you were okay.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I’m sorry. You
have every reason to be upset with me. I should have called.” Gwen followed her
into the kitchen. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes, you should
have.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I had some things
to take care of, is all.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“What things?” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anne filled the kettle and set it on the stove.
“I would have gone with you.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I’ve got some of
Mrs. McNally’s soda bread in the pantry.” Gwen said, trying to avoid having to
explain. She placed the soda bread on the cutting board and began cutting thick
slices for each of them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Hmm. Distracting
me with food.” A hint of a smile sat on her lips. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“All right. I’m just happy you got some fresh
air.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Gwen wondered how
long Anne’s smile was going to last, once she found out about Wales. “Yes, the
fresh air was good.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Gwen felt Anne’s
eyes on her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“What?” she asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You look nice,” Anne replied. “There’s
something, I don’t know, different about you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“No there isn’t,”
Gwen turned and placed the soda bread on the table, avoided Anne’s inquisitive
regard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Ah…yes.” Anne
placed her hand on Gwen’s shoulder. “There is.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“All right. I have
something to tell you,” Gwen said, breathing in a breath of courage.. “First, I
want to say I’m not crazy…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Anne turned to look
at Gwen, whose brow had narrowed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“All right, I’m
listening” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Let’s sit down.”
Gwen pulled Anne toward the table. “Should we wait for the tea?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“It must be bad
news if you’re stalling.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“No, it’s not bad
news. It’s rather good, actually.” Her mother always said there was nothing
better than the truth. “I’m taking a trip.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Really?” Anne’s eyes
widened. “Where to?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Well… this is
going to come as a surprise but I’m going to <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Wales</st1:place></st1:country-region>.” She braced herself for the
impending barrage of questions.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“<st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Wales</st1:country-region></st1:place>?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anne shifted to the edge of her seat. Her
eyes as round as saucers. “What’s in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Wales</st1:country-region></st1:place>?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“There are some
friends, well no, more like relatives there.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Well, which is
it?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Both.” This was
going to be harder than she thought. Anne didn’t like wishy-washy answers. The
protective side of her wouldn’t like the idea of Gwen traveling with a stranger,
not one bit.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I had a visit
from a friend of my mother’s family yesterday who invited me to visit. Seeing
as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">somebody</i> told me to take some time
off to put my affairs in order.” She cocked her head in Anne’s direction. “I
thought it could be a great time to reconnect with my family.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
She’d rehearsed
her speech several times last night, knowing she’d have to.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“So, when are you going on this trip?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
leave tomorrow morning.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“That’s sudden.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anne’s protective radar was on alert. “What’s
the rush?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Well Mr. Pryce
had his plans already booked and I decided to join him.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mr. Pryce</i>?” Anne jumped up out of her
chair, hands on her hips. “Who is he?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Liam Pryce. He’s
very nice. I think you’d approve of him; he’s a very sensible sort.” Anne was
making her nervous, her words sputtered out of her mouth with lightning speed. “He’s
Welsh. You’d like his accent.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“So… let me get
this straight. A Welsh man with an accent came to visit you yesterday, invited
you to go back home to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Wales</st1:country-region></st1:place>
with him and you’re going?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“When you say it
like that, it sounds ridiculous.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Well this is rather
impulsive of you, isn’t it?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I know this isn’t
like me, Anne. I don’t usually do things on a whim.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“No you don’t.
Although in the past I have encouraged you to.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Well right now I can’t
tell if you approve of my spontaneity or not, but it's leaning toward…not. Can
you please sit down?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anne blew out a breath and shook her head as she
plopped down in the chair. “Is he good looking at least?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Her question
surprised them both, making them snort out a laugh.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Come to think of
it, he is good looking.” Gwen admitted. “Does it make you feel better about it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Well, it helps”
Anne squeezed Gwen’s hand. “It sounds exciting, taking off and seeing a bit of
the world. You and your mother talked about travelling all the time.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Gwen flinched a
little at the mention of her mother. “We did.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You know I’m overprotective. I can’t help
myself. I am like your older sister.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“You’re only a few
months older.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“True but I learned
a lot in those few months.” Anne chuckled as she lifted the whistling kettle
from the stove. “Gwen, you deserve to do something wonderful, something to take
your mind off things. What can I do to help?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I was about to
dig Mom’s suitcase out of her closet.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“You go get
started and I’ll make us a tea,” she said. “I’m having strawberry jam on these
gorgeous slices of soda bread. How about you?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes, please!” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
* *
* *<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Gwen found the
suitcase on the floor of her mother’s closet. A little dusty, it had been left
unused for a long while. It was in good condition and would do just fine. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
A wave of grief
overcame her as she looked around her mother’s quiet room.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I’m taking your
advice mum,” she whispered. “I just hope I’m doing the right thing.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Gwen picked up the
leather-trimmed Eveleigh by the handle, swept her gaze around the room one last
time as she stood in the doorway, and then shut the door. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Why don’t you bring the mugs up here?” Gwen
called down the stairway.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Good idea, you’ll
need my help accessorizing.” Ann quipped from the kitchen.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
After packing
Gwen’s bag, Anne agreed to a sleep-over, just like when they were little girls.
Their giggles drifted off a while later, both falling into a deep sleep. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
The pendant
glinted in the moonlight atop Gwen’s jewellery box and she didn’t dream.<o:p></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />Lisa Forgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05403945102147940070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5826519111103951524.post-90302453339672860892020-07-01T23:52:00.000-04:002020-07-08T18:53:41.400-04:00"Love Eternal" by Lisa Forget - Chapters 9 & 10<br />
<h3 style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 150%;">Chapter Nine</span></h3>
<div class="MsoFooter" style="line-height: 150%; mso-outline-level: 1; tab-stops: .5in;">
<st1:placename w:st="on"><b>Talgarth</b></st1:placename><b> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Castle</st1:placetype></b><b><span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 20.0pt;">, <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Wales</st1:country-region></st1:place></span></b><b><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
</div>
<div class="MsoFooter" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .5in;">
<b>5<sup>th</sup> century </b><b><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 20.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">The days of the May celebrations were coming to
a close. </span>The guests made
their way onto the castle grounds as the time for the lighting of the bonfires
approached. Servants milled about the castle preparing to dampen the fires in
the hearths that would be relit, come morning, using the feast fires from the
night’s celebrations. The time-honoured ritual celebrated new life and the hope
for a prosperous year.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Dwynwen’s
thoughts, however, were consumed by Maelon’s plan to ask for her hand. She
could not contain her excitement, her movements restless and rife with
anticipation.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Not only would the
traditions be honoured symbolically but if all went well with Maelon and her
father the King, they would also be a true celebration of new beginnings.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Anxious to see her
prince before the lighting of the fires, she parted from the company of her
sisters to seek him out from among the guests. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
After searching
for some time through halls and chambers, and being unsuccessful, she made her
way back toward her group of young companions, her step slow with
disappointment. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
She wended through
the castle corridor, her eyes on the stone floor when large hands slipped about
her waist, pulling her into a small dark alcove. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Dwynwen gasped,
but the hand clamped over her mouth stifled her cries.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Hush Dwynwen,”
Maelon growled, his voice deep and seductive. She felt his breath on her neck, melting
her back into his embrace. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I count the
moments until we are together, my love,” he whispered into her ear, his kisses
trailing down the side of her neck, “my Dwynwen.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“My heart beats for
you, my prince,” she said, trembling and breathless.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Look for me
across the glow of the feast fires. I will be admiring your beauty from there,”
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maelon turned her around in his arms, and
even in the dark his gem-like blue eyes pierced through her. “And imagining
your lips on... mine.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
The prince leased Dwynwen
and she fell to her knees. She looked up, only to see that he had disappeared
from the dark corridor. Righting herself against the wall, she steadied her
breath before she crossed the great hall and joined the crowd forming outside,
around the great wooden structure, set to burn throughout the night.<br />
<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<h3 style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Chapter
Ten</span></h3>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Gwen awoke the
next morning exhausted from a restless night. Tossing and turning into the wee
hours of the morning, she’d dreamt about people and places she’d never seen
before. A jumble of images, she couldn’t remember much of what she’d dreamt
except for the chapel. When she closed her eyes she could still see every
detail. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Shoving the
journal into her satchel on the way out the door, she raced to the side of the
house, pulling her bicycle from the garden shed. To reach the inn she’d have to
ride clear across Angel’s Cove and into the neighbouring town but it would be
worth the time and effort. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
She wasn’t through
with Mr. Pryce, not just yet.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Slinging her
satchel over her shoulder she mounted her bicycle and headed to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Placentia</st1:city></st1:place>.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
* *
* *<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
The rich aroma of
chocolate wafted from the kitchen window greeting Gwen when she arrived at the
Traveller’s <st1:place w:st="on">Inn</st1:place>. Her mouth watered as she
stood by the gate and realized, in her haste, she hadn't eaten breakfast.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Surrounded by budding
bushes and a little white fence, the two-storied, red-bricked inn boasted a
wishing well on the front lawn where a hand-painted sign informed passers-by of
the Breakfast Nook’s business hours. Picturesque, the property was just the
sort of place you’d expect to find when visiting the Cape Shore of Newfoundland.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Although lovely,
Mr. Pryce seemed a little above this quaint type of inn. Then again, perhaps he
appreciated simplicity.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Gwen leaned her
bicycle by the gate, walked up the paved path, and entered the inn. Her stomach
grumbled as she neared the source of the delicious aroma. She tapped the silver
bell sitting on the desk in the empty foyer and a moment later, a woman poked
her head out from behind the kitchen door.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Miss Evans!” Mrs.
Barter pushed back the kerchief slipping from her hair and stepped out into the
foyer. “What a pleasure it is to see you. What brings you all this way this
fine morning?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
The friendly Mrs.
Barter along with her husband owned and operated the Traveller’s Inn. They
recently celebrated their fortieth wedding anniversary. Gwen remembered seeing
the announcement in the church bulletin. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“It’s so nice to
see you again, Mrs. Barter.” Gwen said. “I came by to see one of your guests.
Mr. Pryce.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Mr. Pryce?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mrs. Barter looked surprised. “I’m sorry but he’s
not in at the moment. He went out early this morning.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Oh, I see.” Gwen
replied, unable to hide her disappointment.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Well now, he did
say he’d be back, only he didn’t say when.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Perhaps I could
leave him a note?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“You could. But I
have a wonderful idea.” she said, untying her white apron from her waist. “I
was just taking out muffins from the oven. It’s a new recipe. Why don’t you
sample one with me. Maybe he’ll return by the time we’re done having a cup of
tea. If not, you can leave that note.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“It does smell
wonderful, Mrs. Barter,” Gwen noticed a smear of flour on the woman’s rosy
cheek. She couldn’t help but smile. It reminded her of her own mother covered
from head to toe in flour and batter when she lost herself to a baking spree.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
The woman smiled
back. “Lots of chunks of chocolate, with bananas and walnuts.” She laughed. “I
love anything with nuts!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“And I love
anything with chocolate. It sounds delicious.” She thought better of seeing Mr.
Pryce on an empty stomach. She’d need all the energy she could muster. “I’d
love to.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Come and join me
in the Nook.” Mrs. Barter said leading the way into the room off the entrance.
She turned in the doorway, taking Gwen’s hands, “Such sad news about your dear
mum. My condolences, dear.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Thank you, Mrs.
Barter.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gwen smiled,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>imagining the grey-haired woman cuddling her
grandchildren, of which she had many, giving every single one of them the
softest caresses.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Oh, for Heaven’s sake, you’re all grown up
now. I insist you call me Bea. Have a seat. I’ll be right back.” Mrs. Barter
disappeared into the kitchen.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gwen took a seat by the window overlooking the
little brook flowing behind the inn. Mr. Barter didn’t see her sitting by the
window as he tending some Boxwood bushes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
She’d been here
before with her grandmother. The room was as cozy and warm as she remembered
with upholstered chairs in a deep burgundy fabric and small wooden tables set
under the windows. A fireplace graced the middle of the main wall, where a fire
burned.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Bea returned
carrying a large wooden tray. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Oh, it looks so
good.” Gwen’s eyes lit up at the sight of the plate of warm muffins on the tray.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I think you’ve
worked up an appetite peddling from such a distance on that fine bicycle of
yours,” Bea winked. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I have.” Gwen
smiled as she spread a little butter on her muffin. “You know, I haven’t been
here in such a long time, Mrs., er… Bea. I’m happy my business brought me by
the <st1:place w:st="on">Inn</st1:place>.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“So am I. Now, is
Mr. Pryce a friend of yours, dear?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bea
asked sipping her tea, with what Gwen though was a twinkle in her eye. “Definitely
a handsome lad with a good head on his shoulders.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“He’s a friend of my mother’s family,” she
replied matter-of-factly, trying not to react to Bea’s observation of Mr.
Pryce. She continued to drink her tea, hoping there’d be no more questions
about him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Really?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wondered if he knew anyone in Angel’s Cove,
he sure was curious about the place. Well-mannered and pleasant, though,
despite the sadness in him. I gather he came in for the funeral?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Bea’s innocent
question rekindled Gwen’s fragile emotions. “Yes,” she said, swallowing her tea
while she tried to stop the tears from forming. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Oh my, Gwen, I’m
so sorry for prying. I really do have to learn to control my curiosity.” She
reached over and put her hand on Gwen’s. “Why don’t you take a little walk around
the gardens out back? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s lovely out
there. I’m sure it’ll help you change your mind a little while you wait for Mr.
Pryce. I’m sure he won’t be very long; he’s checking out this afternoon. You’d
probably like to say goodbye before he leaves.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Bea began clearing
up their plates, stacking them on the tray.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“He’s leaving today?” This news was
unexpected. Didn’t they have things to talk about?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Didn’t he say she was the only one who could
help him?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“It’s what he said
yesterday.” Bea took the tray back into the kitchen, returning a moment later. “When
he gets back, I’ll let him know you’re here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Are you sure you don’t mind?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An anxious feeling came over her at the thought
of his leaving without having a chance to clear things up.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Not at all.” Bea
nodded toward her husband still out in the garden. “You can see if old Mr.
Barter is doing a good job cleaning up the brush out there.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Gwen chuckled. “He
seems to be doing a fine job.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“That’s what he’d
like us to believe.” Her eyes softened as she looked at her husband. “He’ll be
in soon enough, on the hunt for something to fill his belly.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Well, he’s in for
a treat.” Gwen stood up and took out her change purse from her satchel. “Thank
you very much for the delicious breakfast.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Oh, no you
don’t!” Bea clasped her hand around Gwen’s wrist. “You were my official taste
tester, and such wonderful company. Breakfast’s on me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“How kind of you,
thank you.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Now, go and enjoy
the sunshine. It’s a beautiful day.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gwen picked up her bag and slipped out into
the garden as Mr. Barter lumbered up the path, making his way back into the
inn.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Good morning Mr. Barter.” Gwen held the door
open for him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Oh, Miss Evans,
what a lovely surprise.” He smiled, lifting his nose in the air. “My, it smells
good in here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Tastes good, too.”
Gwen smiled.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I’m sure it does.”
He patted his belly, a big grin stretched across his face. “Didn’t get this manly
figure from eating lettuce.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Gwen laughed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Mr. Barter paused
in the doorway.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“We’re so sorry to
hear about your mother. You let us know if there’s anything we can do for you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Gwen nodded.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
* *
* *<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
She wandered from
the inn to the garden. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The pea-gravelled
path was lined with bushes ready to flower and show off their colours. A
birdbath stood in the center of a circle of red tulips, where a few sparrows splashed
about without a care in the world. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Gwen breathed in
the fresh spring air. She loved this time of year.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Walking along the
path she followed the brook trickling over multicoloured rocks scattered along
its banks. A perfect spot awaited her by a large Maple tree where the morning
sun warmed a patch of soft grass at its base. Gwen sat down, drawing her knees
to her chest. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
She slipped the
pendant from around her neck and laid it in the palm of her hand. Turning it
over, she brushed the pad of her thumb across the inscription, lingering on the
name.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Liam.</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Reaching into her
satchel she took out the journal and pulled out the condolence card marking her
page. She stared at the bold elegant signature.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Liam Pryce.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
She leaned back
against the tree, looking up at the cloudless sky. Holding the condolence card
in one hand and the pendant in the other she listened to the peaceful sound of
the brook babbling a stone’s throw away and closed her eyes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The screech of a crow in the branches of the
oak tree jolted her. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">She looked around knowing there was only one
place to go.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Following the dirt path under her feet, she
ran toward the safe haven awaiting her in the clearing. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">No one followed her but somehow it didn’t
make a difference in the dense forest—a place where you didn’t want to linger.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">As she pushed aside a heavy branch blocking
her way at the forest’s edge, the clearing appeared like salvation before her.
The chapel’s soft warm glow sent a wave of relief through her, as though she
was returning home from a long journey.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">She ran to the chapel and opened the door. A
single candle flickered in the dark where a man kneeled by the wooden altar in
prayer. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Without warning, a gust of wind blew the
door open with such force it knocked over the vigil light as it carried her
inside the chapel.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Startled, the man turned toward the door
looking past her into the night. The expression on his shadowed face made her
look behind her. Outside, a dark and ominous storm loomed, completely
enveloping the chapel. From out of the storm’s center, a large, black hole
opened and a deafening, thunderous roar shook the walls.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The force of it threw Gwen to the floor,
holding her down against the stone, making it impossible for her to move. The
storm raged as crosses, candles and benches flew through the air crashing against
all four walls. She was certain she would be buried alive under the rubble sure
to crumble at any moment. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">She summoned all of her strength, turning
her head as she remembered the man at the altar. The sound of his laboured
breathing came from somewhere to the right of her. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Pinned to the floor, he lay face down with
an arm outstretched, reaching for her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">She forced her arm to move up from her side.
It scraped along the cold damp stone floor. The man did the same. Both were
determined to defeat the invisible force holding them against their will.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">They were strangers seeking the reassurance
of one another’s presence in the face of danger. As their hands touched a
thunderous crash resounded and the storm began to diminish. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Their fingers entwined and the rage died
completely. The darkness lifted and the force no longer crushed them, freed
from its hold.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
man lifted his head and turned his gaze toward her. Gwen met the stranger’s
eyes and was taken aback by the pain filling them. Only, she’d seen the man
before, his name was Liam Pryce!<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Good morning,
Miss Evans.” Gwen’s eyes flew open as she heard his voice. Mr. Pryce stood by
the brook, a few feet away from her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Where am I?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>she asked, startled.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“You’re in the garden
of the Traveller’s <st1:place w:st="on">Inn</st1:place>, and I must admit, I am
a little surprised to see you.” He closed the distance between them. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“How long have you
been standing there?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She felt
uncomfortable knowing that in her dream only a moment ago, their hands had been
entwined. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“A few minutes,”
he said. “Are you all right? You seem upset.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes,
I…I’m fine now,” she stammered, avoiding his eyes while hoping he didn’t
possess the ability to read her mind.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“May
I ask why you’re here?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I came to show
you something.” She stood up, brushing off bits of grass from her skirt. “It’s
my mother’s journal. I found it while I was looking through some of her
things.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
The condolence
card fluttered out of Gwen’s hand and as she handed Mr. Pryce the leather-bound
journal, he bent down to retrieve the card from where it had landed at his
feet. He rose, examined the card, and handed it back to her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“And obviously, I also found your condolence card.
That’s how I knew where you were staying,” she said. “Thank you for the flowers.
They’re our favourite.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I know,” he replied,
opening the journal.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“How—” Gwen didn’t even want to ask how he knew.
She was baffled enough as it was. “Never mind. I think I came across one of the
names you mentioned yesterday.” She stepped closer to Mr. Pryce, pointing to
the page where she’d found the origin her family’s surname. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Brycheiniog. Yes,”
he said, thumbing through the pages of the book. “But it’s of royal origin and
not commonly used today. Brecon is the popular version of the surname.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
His voice seemed
to be coming from far away. “That’s what is says in the journal.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gwen shook her head trying to clear the foggy
feeling overcoming her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I thought you
said you didn’t know anything about your family?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I don’t. It belonged
to my mother. I didn’t even know she kept a journal.” She stepped back to lean
against the tree, then took a deep breath. “You were right.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Right about what?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
She held out the
pendant letting it dangle from her hand. “My mother left this to me. It belonged
to my grandmother.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I knew it.” Liam slowly
moved toward Gwen who placed the pendant into his trembling hand. He took out
his pendant from beneath his shirt. “Do you realize, Miss Evans, these two
pendants have not been together since the fifth century?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“The Fifth
century? How is that even possible?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Liam Rhys had
them commissioned as a gift to Dwynwen in the fifth century.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“How do you know
this?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“We know that Liam
Rhys loved Dwynwen Brycheiniog.” Mr. Pryce was as white as a ghost, gasping for
air, he could barely speak. “The twin pendants…were a token…of his love for
her.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Mr. Pryce, you should sit down. You don’t
look well.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I don’t
understand…” He steadied himself against the tree. “Do you hear?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Hear what?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“That sound. It’s
like music…” He held his head in his hands. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I thought I was
the only one who heard it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
He looked up and
his eyes met hers. “The sound has been with me for as long as I’ve worn the
pendant, but right now it’s stronger…louder.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Please.” He thrust out his arm. “Take it.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Gwen took her
pendant from him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Were you wearing
the pendant yesterday when we spoke?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>His heart raced as he watched her fastened the pendant around her neck.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes.” She
admitted “I should have told you…” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Leaning against
the tree, the colour returned to his face.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“When you fainted
I thought it was because I had upset you. Now, after what I just experienced,
I’m not sure that’s the only reason.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“What do you think
happened?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I don’t know, but
perhaps holding both pendants causes some kind of… reaction.” He stared out
pensively into the garden. “Maybe they <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>hold some kind of a power.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Her hand went to
the burn mark on her chest. “Have you ever felt anything… strange aside from the
humming noise?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
"Why, have
you?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He pushed away from the tree, no
longer needing it for support.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I’m having more
dreams than ever before,” she said. “Last night, when I awoke from one, the pendant
was glowing.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Mr. Pryce didn’t
respond.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“You think I’m
crazy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No, I don’t,” he replied. “I’ve felt some
very strange things myself. It’s the reason I’m here” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“What do you
mean?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I came to find
you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">because </i>of my dreams. They’ve
haunted me and finally, led me to you.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“What dreams?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
His gaze locked on
Gwen. “A young woman runs from out of a dark forest. Her clothes are bloodied
and torn and she’s crying. She enters a chapel in a clearing.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“A chapel?” Gwen
whispered.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“ Yes, but each
time I attempt to follow her in, the doors are barred shut. I can hear her but
I can’t get to her. She doesn’t answer when I call out offering my help. I know
she’s in danger and my only thought is to save her.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“You’re trying to
save her?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes, the woman’s
running from something and she’s trying to get to it. In the dark<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>of the forest, the chapel seems to—” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Glow?” Gwen finished
Mr. Pryce’s sentence, a chill running through her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes.” He looked astounded.
“How did you know?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’ve seen it.” She shook with disbelief. “I
saw the chapel, the woman, the blood, all in a dream. We dreamt the same dream?”
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I don’t-” Mr.
Pryce let out a slow laboured breath and grimaced, rubbing his chest. “I had no
idea it could be possible.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Are you all
right?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the sight of the pain in his
face Gwen’s instincts sparked, making her reach out to him. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I’m fine. It’s
nothing.” He straightened up and continued. “I’m convinced everything is connected
to these pendants.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Why?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gwen asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
have my theories,” he replied, looking away. “How many times have you had these
dreams Gwen?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Every day since I
put the pendant on.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Mr. Pryce’s eyes
narrowed. “Are you-”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Is it true,
you’re leaving today?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gwen asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His jaw clenched. “I am.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Why? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I shouldn’t have
come.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“You said we
needed each other, it was a matter of life and death. Now, you’re just
leaving?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“You don’t
understand. Yesterday, I doubted everything those messages led me to believe. I’m
not sure what I expected to find, but I didn’t feel you…” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I was an ass.” She
interrupted. “I didn’t know how to react. I was scared, confused.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“You were right to
be wary. You are grieving. And, you don’t even know me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I could have
handled things differently.” Gwen said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Mr. Pryce shook
his head. “I should have.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Well, things are different
today.” Gwen smiled.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Mr. Pryce studied
Gwen’s face, and his expression softened. “It would appear so.” He returned the
smile as he handed the journal back to her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
A warm rush of relief
flooded Gwen’s body as she slipped the journal into her satchel. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“To be clear, I
can’t pretend to understand all of this.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“God knows I can’t
either Gwen, but you are the woman in those dreams. You are the one.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
When Mr. Pryce spoke
those words, something stirred in her soul.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<br />Lisa Forgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05403945102147940070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5826519111103951524.post-56563659050053388882020-06-25T10:45:00.000-04:002020-07-08T18:51:35.350-04:00"Love Eternal" by Lisa Forget - Chapters 7 & 8<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Chapter Seven<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
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<st1:placename w:st="on"><b>Talgarth</b></st1:placename><b> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Castle</st1:placetype></b><b><span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 20.0pt;">, <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Wales</st1:country-region></st1:place></span></b><b><o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>5<sup>th</sup> century </b><b><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 20.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Maelon’s
kiss left Dwynwen breathless. When the Prince released Dwynwen from his arms he
whispered, “You’ve bewitched me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Dwynwen
felt the heat rise in her cheek, and lowered her eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Look
at me, princess.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Dwynwen
met the prince’s stare. "I am bound by your beauty,” he said, his eyes drinking
in every detail of her face. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maelon gathered her into his arms and Dwynwen
lost herself in his touch, his kisses, so ardent they made her light-headed and
giddy. Undeniably irresistible, this handsome man with his sweet words and strong
embrace made her feel special. How could she not succumb to his magic? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Was
this love? Could it happen so fast?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">To
be the object of such passionate desire never knowing how she had longed for it.
Dwynwen nestled her head against Maelon’s chest, listening to his steady, quick
breath. “I have never been happier than at this very moment.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Fate has shone her bright light upon the
earth so I may follow it and find you.” Maelon’s grip tightening about her
shoulders. “On the last evening of the celebration, once the feast fires have been lit, I shall
speak with your father to ask for your hand.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Dwynwen
gasped.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Maelon
brought her delicate fingers to his lips. “If you will have me.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Torn
by her feelings for Maelon and her obligations, which she tried to push from
her mind, Dwynwen stood speechless. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“You
are silent. Have I mistaken…?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
leaned forward, silencing the prince with a kiss. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“You
have not mistaken my feelings for you,” she whispered against his lips. In that
moment, Dwynwen could do nothing but give Maelon her heart. “Speak with my
father.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Maelon’s
eyes widened and a smile lit up his face. “You are beautiful.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">He
caressed Dwynwen’s cheek. “I would like nothing more than to stay here in this
garden and admire you until the sun rises, alas, I think it is time to return
to your father’s celebration.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“We
have been gone for some time,” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dwynwen
replied. “My sister must be looking for me.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Ah
yes, your sister.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We would not want to
worry her.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The
prince led the princess to the entrance and they re-entered the castle, one after
the other.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Once
Dwynwen slipped back into the great hall she quickly met her youngest brother who
was seeking her advice on how best to approach the daughter of one of the
visiting noblemen. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">A
moment later, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the prince entered with
confidence, holding a cup of wine in his hand. Leaning against the far wall, he
sipped his drink in an unhurried manner. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Maelon
and Dwynwen’s yes met from across the room. His gaze caressed her slender figure.
Dwynwen’s cheeks flushed as her brother tirelessly chatted beside her unaware
that she was mesmerized by the regal figure staring at her from across the room,
and did not hear a word he saying to her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Maelon
Daffrodil appeared to Dwynwen to be as calm as the seas of summer, while her
own heart beat as wild as an unexpected winter storm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Chapter Eight</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">After
shelving the items she’d purchased from Mr. McNally, Gwen wandered up to her room
slipped into a flannel nightgown and curled up on her bed. Pulling her knees
close to her chest, she took out the condolence card from Mr. Pryce, studying
it as she hummed a melody to herself, a wordless tune her mother sang to her
when she was a little girl. Although, she didn’t know the name of the haunting
melody, it always comforted her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">On
the night table beside the bed lay her mother’s journal. She never would have dreamed of reading her
mother’s private musings, but now she felt it might hold some information that
could be important. She tucked the card into the journal and tentatively opened
the book to the first page dated September 1, 1915.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Flipping
through the pages, Gwen was surprised to find that the journal contained not
only personal thoughts and ideas, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>but accounts
and details about her ancestors, he Brecons. She noted their arrival to Canada
in 1842, and listed several births and deaths. Her mother had a talent for
drawing and in the middle of the journal she had sketched a beautiful oak tree.
On each of the branches, names were scripted in her fine hand. However, the
sketch seemed unfinished as there were many branches with no name or
information. In that moment, Gwen promised herself that one day she would
complete the work her mother had begun so many years ago, once she’d done some
of her own research. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Brecon,” she read aloud from the explanation
in the journal’s pages which cited the name originated from the fifth century
Welsh king, known as Brychan of Brycheiniog. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Bra-hi-nee-ock.”
When she said it aloud, the unusual name tripped over her tongue, and she realised
it was the same name Mr. Pryce mentioned earlier. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">According
to notes in the journal, it was also the origins of her mother’s maiden name. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
turned the gold pendant in her fingers, her brain wrapping itself around the
discovery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was it a coincidence, or was
it possible he was telling the truth and the two families were connected, as
far back as the firth century? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Gwen
wondered that if it were true, what could be so urgent that after all these
years Mr. Pryce should come all the way from Wales to make his claim. What
could be so important? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
closed the journal, returning it to the night table, pondering the question as
she glanced out the window.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">It
had grown dark, the sun, only a memory now, had given its place to the light of
the moon. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The weight of the events of
the day, and the questions conjured up from reading through the journal, had
suddenly made her feel drained of energy and she fought back a yawn. She
settled herself under the covers of her bed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I
miss you mum,” she said, and then drifted off to sleep.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Running through the trees, fleeing
from a dark and unseen force, she desperately tried to keep her feet from tangling
with the linen fabric of the shift that whipped and stung her bare legs.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The moment she thought she could go
no further, the trees opened upon a small clearing. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Time itself ceased ticking and everything
stilled around her.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She slowed her pace, walking
tentatively into the clearing, before her, an ancient stone chapel glowed a
bright light, its warmth emanated from within, beckoning her to come near. With
each step she took, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the air began to vibrate
until the night was filled with a resonance both eerie and beautiful. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The music encircled her as she stood
frozen on the steps of the stone building, unable to move, unable to breathe.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Images flooded her mind, bringing
her to her knees. The feeling that she unworthy of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>experiencing such beauty and holiness
overcame her. Then suddenly, the thought of others finding out the truth made
her gasp for breath. Her mind reeled with fear and confusion.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">What truth? she whispered.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She attempted to form a
comprehensible explanation from the barrage of images, but none came. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She lifted her eyes to the sky and
filled her lungs with a cleansing breath. The images faded and her thoughts
became clearer.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was a place of refuge; she could feel it
in her soul. But where was she and why was she here? <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Shaking off the feeling of
unworthiness, she regained her courage and moved closer to the chapel, drawn to
it like a cold body to a warm fire. An overwhelming sense of peace washed over
her as she touched the aged wood of the chapel door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The need to anchor herself, to surrender and
become one with this holy place was greater than she could understand. As her
fingers reached for the latch, the peaceful feeling that had enveloped her was
obliterated by the violence of hands appearing from out of the dark, tearing
her away from the warm light. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">A scream escaped her throat as she
fought the hands that gripped her. She begged to stay in the light. She
struggled against the force holding her back from her holy refuge, vehemently
denouncing the evil dragging her back into darkness of the forest.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The rustling of leaves and the snap
of branches ceased.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All was quiet for a
brief moment, and then her cries rose as the sound of linen being ripped to
shreds echoed in the dense air.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“No!”
Gwen awoke with a cry that mirrored the one she’d heard in her nightmare. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Gasping
for breath, she looked down to where a scorching heat seared through her chest.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The
pendant glowed orange.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />Lisa Forgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05403945102147940070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5826519111103951524.post-3954546884383200642020-06-23T13:16:00.003-04:002020-07-08T18:46:50.443-04:00"Love Eternal" by Lisa Forget - Chapters 5 & 6<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Chapter Five<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Dwynwen was enjoying the company of
her dear friend Enide when the stranger arrived. Dressed in a crimson tunic and
black cloak embroidered in gold flowing from his shoulders to the floor, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>his regal and self-assured manner commanded
her attention as he entered the great hall. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one would dare challenge his lineage, the
mark of his heraldry sat bejewelled and fastened on his right shoulder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The
eyes of everyone present focused on the stranger, yet intent on paying his
respects to his host, the young man did not acknowledge them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Dwynwen
stood with her gaze fixed on the fair-haired young man, and like the rest of
the women in the room, she had fallen under his spell. He crossed the hall in
tempo with the beating of her heart.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">No
sky could compare with the colour of the prince’s eyes, of this Dwynwen was
certain. His strong facial features were framed by soft wisps of his hair, the
colour of sunlight. An imposing figure, he stood a hand taller than her father and
his shoulders spanned two hands broader. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">He
came alone with no accompanying entourage, a fact which left Dwynwen puzzled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Who
is he?” Enide whispered as the stranger approached.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I…I
do not know.” Dwynwen stammered. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">As
he passed by the place where she stood, the young man turned, his lips curved
into a smile as his gaze met hers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Dwynwen
gasped. Had he truly given her his attention?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She lowered her eyes to the floor and swallowed. Enide reached out and
squeezed her hand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I am Prince <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Maelon,</span> son of King Dafodri</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 150%;">l</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">.”
She heard him say. “My father sends his deepest regrets. He is unwell at present
and unable to make the journey. I have the honour of representing him this
evening.” His voice held the power to mesmerize and seduce. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“You
are most welcome here at Talgarth.” King Brychan motioned to an empty seat by
the hearth. “Join us.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Prince
Maelon, smiled, pleased at the invitation. A servant offered a cup of wine to
the young prince. Lifting the vessel to his lips, he emptied the contents in
one swallow and sat down with the group gathered at the King’s side. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Is
he not the most handsome man here?” asked Dwynwen’s youngest sister, swooning
behind her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yes.”
Dwynwen replied in a hushed and breathless tone as she studied the contours of
the prince’s face. “He is.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Glanced
back at the prince, she saw him engaged in conversation with her uncle. The
older man seemed taken with him, laughing and patting the young man on the
shoulder, as though they were old friends. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Throughout
the evening the Prince demonstrated his easy manner, from the humble servant,
to the king. A cup of wine in hand, a witty tale on his lips and a gleam of
mischief in his eye, in the short time since he had arrived, the prince had charmed
all in attendance. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
hoped his popularity would not oblige him to sit with her father and his
councilmen for the duration of the evening.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
dare say Prince Maelon is one of the most intriguing men I have ever seen,”
Enide whispered as they bowed to their dance partners.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Indeed.”
Dwynwen replied as she was led once more in the dance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">#<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>#<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>#<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The
Prince observed the young women celebrating in the great hall. The one whom had
stood out from the moment he’d arrived was, at present, standing much too far
away for his liking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She’d
been observing him as he had made his introduction to the king. The manner of
concern and admiration she displayed toward the older man with whom he spoke,
was befitting of a close relation. She surely must be one, of the reputed many,
of his children. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">He
felt her gaze upon him, as she studied him as well. They acknowledged each
other with a nod, and the experienced prince knew the blush that rose on her
cheek confirmed a mutual attraction. No doubt it would lead to an evening of
stolen glances. Prince Maelon would ensure</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">,
over the next days of celebration,</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"> it would also lead to much more.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">*
* * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">As
the festivities continued, Dwynwen felt the prince’s presence, as she danced
with cousin Ifor, and as she mingled among the guests. Moving about the great
hall she felt his eyes upon her, as he watched from the shadows. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Later
in the evening, while with a group of her sisters, Dwynwen shivered as the
prince’s hand slid up her hip and rested on her lower back. He stood close to
her, while he distracted her sister.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
caught his eye and the look she saw there made Dwynwen’s heart race. She let
out a burst of nervous laughter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Are you all right, sister?” her sister
Ceinwen asked,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Please excuse me,” Prince Maelon said before
kissing Dwynwen’s hand. He turned, bowed to Ceinwen and then he left.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Dwynwen
watched as the prince exiting through the doorway across the room <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yes.
I am… well,” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dwynwen replied, avoiding
her sister’s observant gaze for she would surely know she did not speak the
truth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">For
she was not well at all. She was in complete danger. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>falling in love.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The
moment the thought crossed her mind, a group of men by the hearth began to
sing, Dwynwen heard her father’s deep bass voice booming over the others. He
motioned for Ceinwen to join him. She had a lovely voice, pure and true. The
tone of her light descant joined her father’s, dancing above the ever-rousing
chorus. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Dwynwen
stood back and glanced across the room. The Prince stepped out of the doorway,
motioning to her to follow him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
quietly stole away from the great hall.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">*
* * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Leaving
the guests and the festivities behind, they rushed out into the garden.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Dwynwen
slowed her step a few paces away from where the prince waited under the
majestic oak.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I
should not be here alone with you,” she said, breathless.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Oh
no.” The Prince took Dwynwen’s hand, pulling her closer to him. He stared into
her eyes. “You certainly should not.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The
heat in Dwynwen’s cheeks rose when the prince traced her lips with his finger. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her heart beat a frantic tattoo. She closed
her eyes as she tried to steady herself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Let
me see you, my beautiful princess.” He lifted her chin. You have taken my
breath away.” Nervous, Dwynwen pulled away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Are
you frightened of me?” he asked, breathing the words into her ear.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“No.”
She avoided his gaze.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Then
why do you look away?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He cupped her
face.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I
feel strange.” Her eyes focused on his chest. “My heart beats fast, I cannot
breathe.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Your
words fill me with… joy,” he said as his fingers traveled across her brow, her
cheek. “I cannot think of my life without your beauty in it.” His hand rested
on her slender neck. Dwynwen swayed into his embrace. The prince swung her
around, pressing her back against the oak tree.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I
am yours,” he said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Dwynwen
gasped as the bark cut into her delicate skin forcing the air from her lungs. She
stared into Maelon’s striking blue eyes. She had never been this close to a
man. His breath was ragged, and coming fast, his gaze unfocused and his hard
body aroused. Surprised by her reaction of desire, and the unexpected feeling
of anticipation making her light-headed, Dywnwen did not struggle to pull away
from Maelon, she was captivated. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Hidden
from view by the large tree, the Prince brushed his lips against hers. Dwynwen
arched into him. He savoured her lips gently, but quickly his kiss grew deep
and passionate, allowing the prince to taste her innocence. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Time
stood still for Dwynwen as the prince held her in his arms, aware only was she,
of the fire burning in her heart.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Chapter Six<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">After
leaving the parsonage, Gwen strolled toward McNally and Son, the local grocery
store on Main Road. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A bell sounded her
arrival. The portly proprietor turned with a smile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Well
good morning to ya. Gwen.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mr. McNally’s
Irish brogue rang thick. He put down the box of supplies he was shelving. “How
can we help you today?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I’ll
take a pint of milk.” Gwen stepped over to a small pile of baskets placed near
the entrance,“and I’ll look around for the rest.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“All
right. Here you go.” He placed the milk on the counter and his expression
softened. “She was a good soul yer ma. If we can help ya in any way, be sure to
let us know.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Thank
you.” Gwen replied. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Mr.
McNally returned to stocking the shelves. Gwen wended her way through the shop
filling her basket.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Mrs.
McNally appeared from the storeroom in time to ring up Gwen’s purchases. A
boisterous and charming woman in her mid-fifties, Gwen always thought that she
resembled the Campbell’s soup girl from magazine advertisements. They exchanged
pleasantries and Mrs. McNally echoed her husband’s sentiments while adding a
loaf of soda bread into the paper bag, free of charge. After paying for her
purchases, Gwen headed for the door, promising she would stop in the following week.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The
scent of spring wafted on the warm breeze greeting her as she stepped onto the
sidewalk, her face warmed by the sunshine, she walked straight into Mr. Pryce’s
broad chest. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Let
me help you,” he said, saving the grocery bag from tumbling out of her arms. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“You
disappear, and now you’re following me?” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her tone accusatory.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“No,
of course not.” he replied, but the glint of sun shone so bright Gwen couldn’t
tell if he was smiling. “I had upset you and thought it best to leave.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Do
you always barge into people’s homes, upsetting their lives?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I
did not<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">barge</span></i> into your home. You invited me in.” He turned,
gripping the bag, and began to walk away. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Where
are you going?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I’ll
help you home with these.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I
don’t need help.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yes,
you do.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Who do you think you are?” She followed after
him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I
told you my name,” he replied, looking straight ahead.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yes,
but <i>who</i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>are you?” she asked
again, trying to keep up with his long strides.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“If you hadn’t fainted earlier,” he said, abruptly
turning to face her. “I would have told you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Well
tell me now.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I
am a descendant of Liam ap Rhys, who was a great friend of Dwynwen of
Brycheiniog.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“How
nice for you. And you think that’s supposed to explain everything? I won’t
apologize for what happened earlier, now tell me how any of that has anything
to do with me?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Did
you hear anything I said?” He shook his head as though she was daft and then
pivoted, making his way down the street. “It has everything to do with you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I don’t understand. I don’t even know Dwynwen
of Bri..Bri…” she stuttered, struggling to pronounce the Welsh name while keeping
up with his long strides.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Brycheiniog.
Don’t insult me by claiming you’ve never heard of your ancestor.” He gave her
an accusing glance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
realized they had an audience. Mrs. Lindsay and her eldest daughter Jean were
watching them from across the road. Gwen waved. The women returned the gesture
and hurried into the bakery. Jean took one last glance over her shoulder before
she followed after her mother.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Gwen’s
eyes darted back to Mr. Pryce, her voiced lowered. “Yes, I am telling you I’ve
never heard of those people. You seem to know more about my family than I do.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“That
is ridiculous. I can’t believe that a per—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“The
family I know are dead, Mr. Pryce.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Her
words silenced him. After a thoughtful moment he said, “A person should know
their family’s history. They have a right to this knowledge.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Well,
I wish I did, but I unfortunately don’t have the luxury,” she said affronted. “I’ll
be frank with you Mr. Pryce, your arrogance is irritating.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“My
arrogance?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He cocked his head. His eyes
glittered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I’m
sorry that I don’t know anything about what you’re saying, however ridiculous that
may sound.” She ripped the grocery bag from his arms. “What I do know is your request
to go to Wales is ridiculous!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Flustered,
she spun on her heel, leaving him to stare after her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">He
watched her set off down the road, her gait determined and furious. Her long
wavy tresses bounced with each step. She didn’t look back to give him another
fiery glare or she would have seen him gaping at her, with his hand running
through his hair, and a ghost of a smile on his lips. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">*
* * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Gwen
marched down the long road, mumbling to herself, as the thick paper of the
grocery bag crackled under the force of her grip. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“What
an arrogant ass.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">When
she reached her house, she ran up the porch steps and fumbled with her keys,
nearly dropping the groceries as she opened the door. She looked over her
shoulder at the empty street. A part of her, she was ashamed to admit, had hoped
he’d follow her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Why
couldn’t she have controlled her temper? Then again, how dare he come and put
all these ideas in her head, making her think about him?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
closed the door with her hip and stomped to the kitchen. Placing the bag on the
table she paced around the kitchen mumbling as she vented her frustration at
being an emotional mess. What kind of person acted like this, after having
buried her mother only a week ago? It was a time for grieving and healing not a
time to be selfishly thinking about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Liam
Pryce.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Handsome,
irritating…Welshman who intrigued her since the day in the cemetery, which was
utterly, and unforgivably, crazy. Was her grief to blame for making her imagine
how wonderful it might feel to have his arms around her while standing at the
top of the Snowdonia mountains, even thought she had no idea what they looked
like?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Arghhh…
madness!” Gwen growled, fisting her hands.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Wait a minute.</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Was
she truly entertaining the thought of going to Wales with Liam Pryce, of
exploring the family connection he claimed they shared? Did men like Liam make vulnerable
women confused and illogical?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Gwen
had no idea. She was no expert on men. The only one she was remotely interested
in was the man Liam had mentioned earlier, John Allen. An old friend from
school and nurse Nancy Allen’s younger brother. They’d gone out on a few casual
dates last fall and planned to go to the Spring Social in a few weeks. John had
never sparked anything other than friendship, a far cry from the feelings
racing through her blood for Mr. Pryce.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
breathed a heavy sigh, regretting having stormed off this afternoon. Wasn’t
finding out more about him one of her goals when she’d set out today. What did
he think of her?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She wondered if she’d
ever see Liam Pryce again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Drifting
into the parlour, she returned to where her life had taken a strange turn this
morning and she looked up at her grandmother’s portrait. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“What
am I supposed to do, Nan?” she asked aloud. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Shaking
her head at the realization that she was talking to herself, she got up and
moved over to the window where the bouquet of roses drooped. They were wilted
and forlorn. <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
tip of a white envelope poked out from the baby’s breath. Gwen slipped it from
its hiding place, pulled out the card and her breath caught in her throat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Dear Miss Evans, my deepest sympathy on the
loss of your beloved mother.” </span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Signed, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Sincerely,
Mr. Liam Pryce.” <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
had assumed they were from her mother’s friends. Never did she think otherwise.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The
sentiments were written on a note card from The Traveller’s Inn, in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Placentia</st1:city></st1:place>, one town over. She
should have guessed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Rereading
the card several times and absently touching where the ink met the paper, Gwen
stared at Mr. Pryce’s elegant handwriting. The card clearly indicated where he
was staying. Gwen looked back at her grandmother’s portrait and smiled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I
guess I’ve got my answer.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Mr. Pryce would be receiving a visitor, bright and early
tomorrow morning. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />Lisa Forgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05403945102147940070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5826519111103951524.post-5003360625298798472020-06-23T11:42:00.001-04:002020-06-23T11:43:01.001-04:00"Love Eternal" by Lisa Forget- Chapters 3 & 4<br />
<h3 style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Chapter
Three<o:p></o:p></span></h3>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoFooter" style="line-height: 150%; mso-outline-level: 1; tab-stops: .5in;">
<st1:placename w:st="on"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Talgarth</b></st1:placename><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Castle</st1:placetype></b><b><span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 20.0pt;">, <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Wales</st1:place></st1:country-region></span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoFooter" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .5in;">
<b><span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 20.0pt;">5<sup>th</sup> century </span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 20.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Dwynwen
was greeted by a familiar melody as she descended the stairs of Talgarth castle.
The May carol rang from the harp in the great hall and she could not help but
hum along in harmony.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Since
the break of dawn, the castle was alive with the sound of servants preparing
for the feast of Nos Calan Mai, the eagerly anticipated celebration of
fertility and new life. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She
peered into the great hall before joining her family standing near the main
entrance decorated with branches of draenen wen, laden with plump, red berries.
The tapestries had been cleaned and now adorned the stone walls aglow from
thrushes lit and hung about the room. The fire roared in the hearth filling the
room with warmth and a sweet, fruity scent . <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I was beginning
to wonder what was keeping you.” Ceinwen whispered. “Father requests we be
ready for the arrival of our guests,” her sister said, gesturing toward their
father arriving from his council chamber in his festive robe and tunic.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Come.” Dwynwen
took her sister’s hand scurrying over to him, placing a kissed on his cheek. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“There you are,”
he said. “My two beauties.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Delicate features,
radiant complexions with sparkling eyes, his daughters warmed his heart with
their love of life.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I am truly
blessed.” King Brychan of Brycheiniog turned to his family, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>waiting by his side. “Let the merriment
commence!” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
The doors opened
and visitors from the bordering kingdoms of Dyfed and Glywysing entered Talgarth
castle. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Within moments, cups and
trenchers were filled to overflowing, and conversations regarding the sporting
games and the choosing of the May King and Queen could be overheard. Eager to
participate, many young women hoped to be crowned May Queen. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Go.” King Brychan
addressed his children, a cup of mead in his hands. “Enjoy the festivities.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“You are most
gracious, father.” Nectan, the king’s eldest son, bowed and then offered his
arm to his sisters.“ Come, I will escort you.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
With eyes aglow
with excitement, Dwynwen and Ceinwen followed their father on the arm of the
heir to the throne.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoFooter" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
“Dwynwen,
Ceinwen!” The voice of their cousin Ifor echoed above the music. “May we have
the pleasure of your company for the next dance?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoFooter" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
“You
haven’t promised it to anyone else, have you?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>His twin brother Tomos asked, stepping in their path.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoFooter" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
“How
could we?” Ceinwen smiled, turning to greet her cousin.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoFooter" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
“We
promised the first dance to you.” Dwynwen added. “If we may, dear brother?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoFooter" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes,
of course.” Nectan nodded. “Ifor, Tomos, I am very pleased to see you again.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoFooter" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
“We
are, as well.” The brothers replied.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoFooter" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
The
sisters took their cousins’ proffered hands and joined in the dancing where the
pipers delighted the guests with a quick melody. The sisters were fluid
dancers, and the foursome danced throughout the night. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Dwynwen’s sweet
smile captivated the hearts of many young men, as they longed to steal her away
from her dancing partners, but none more than the regal one who had been
watching her every move. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He decided she
was by far the prettiest of all the women in the room. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
She was perfect,
and in so being, she would be his. <o:p></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 150%;">Chapter Four<o:p></o:p></span></h3>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Gwen’s eyes sprang
open. She pushed herself up from the cushions of the settee in the parlour. She
felt her hair falling loose against her shoulders, no longer tied back. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“What happened?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“You fainted.” Mr.
Pryce turned from the window, the gold pendant that had been swinging like a pendulum
in his hands, stilled. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“How do you feel?” Mr. Pryce asked. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I don’t know. How
should I feel?” Annoyed, she padded the cushions, searching for her hair clip.
“I’ve never fainted before.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“You’ve been
through so much, you said so yourself. Perhaps more than I’d imagined.” He slid
the pendant back into its pouch. “Now that you are recovered, I will take my leave
so you may rest, Miss Evans.” He took his hat and make his way to the front
door. “I shouldn’t have come. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
apologize for adding to your burden.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“But—" Bewildered,
Gwen stared at the door, wondering what exactly had happened in this morning
and how, in only a few moments, her simple life could be filled with so many
questions. She sprang to the window but Mr. Pryce was nowhere in sight. She
threw open the door and dashed down the porch steps. Turning in a circle, she
glanced around, but the man had disappeared, just as he had a few days ago.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Only this time she
knew who he was.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Liam Pryce.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Leaning against
the post, the things he’d said to her came flooding back. Nothing made sense,
but neither did mysterious whispers and humming noises. Could they all be
connected? She had to find out more about Mr. Liam Pryce from Wales. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A stranger in a small and protective town like
Angel’s Cove didn’t usually go unnoticed, especially if he had been asking
making inquiries. Her most reliable source of information was sitting in the
front office of the parish parsonage, and she had an appointment with him this
morning. Running back into the house, she gathered her things and left,
slamming the door on her way out. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Mr. Pryce felt the
vibrations of the front door banging shut, and Gwen’s determined footsteps
descending the stairs, as he leaned against the side of the Evans’ home.
Catching his breath and bracing himself against the pain in his chest, he
waited until Miss Evans’ footsteps faded before venturing back out onto the
road.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
* *
* *<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Gwen. I’m happy
to see you,” Reverend Matthews said as he opened the door.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I’m sorry I’m
late.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“No, you’re right
on time,” he replied, leading her to his office. “Please excuse the mess.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m attempting to do some filing.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
She noticed papers
strewn across his desk. The paperwork her mother usually took care of, no doubt.
The reverend looked tired. His face looked older, his eyes, dimmer. Gwen
wondered when he’d hire a replacement. Her heart ached at the thought. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Let me clear a
spot,” he said, straightening up his desk. “Here, sit down.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Thank you.” She took
a seat in front of his desk. “I’m so grateful for your help.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Your mother was… well,
you know.” He slid some files into the top drawer of his desk and sat down in
his chair. Swallowing hard he looked up. An unguarded truth about how much he
loved her mother, shone in his eyes, confirming what Gwen had always suspected.
“I’m happy to help you, in any way I can.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You were special to her as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hope you know that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
The reverend,
lowered his head and nodded. “Thank you for saying so. Should we get started on
this paperwork?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Of course. But
before we do, I just wanted to tell you that I had a visitor this morning, a
man from Wales claiming to have known my mother’s family.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“From Wales?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Liam Pryce,” Gwen replied. “Have you heard of
him. He says our families are somehow connected.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I can’t say that
I have.” He looked puzzled. “Is he a relative?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“No, I don’t think
so.” She took the pendant from around her neck and placed it on the desk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Look at what Mum left me. Her letter said it
had been in her family for years, but I’d never seen it before. Mr. Pryce had
one exactly like it.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“It’s a Celtic
cross, a common religious symbol,” the reverend said, shrugging. “Perhaps it’s a
coincidence that they look similar.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“There are exactly
alike, and both have an inscription on the back.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
The reverend
turned the pendant over in his hands.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“According to Mr. Pryce, it’s written in
Welsh, and it says ‘a cross to guide us and a never-ending circle to bind us
forever’. His pendant had the same inscription. It can’t be a coincidence.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“That does seem odd,”
he mused. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“And this last word here, is
that your grandmother’s name?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Mr. Pryce said
the name actually belongs to one of our ancestors. That a connection exists because
of the name, and the two pendants” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I’m sure he
intended to only offer his condolences and used the pendant as a way to start
conversation.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He handed the pendant
back to her. “Perhaps he’s a history and genealogy enthusiast.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“He did seem to
know a lot about that sort of thing, but he didn’t stay long so I didn’t get a
chance to ask,” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>she said, deciding
against telling him what they had actually talked about. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“So, you haven’t heard gossip about a stranger
in town and where he might be staying?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“No, I’m afraid not.”
His brow furrowed. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Is everything all
right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was the visit unpleasant? Did he
try—?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Oh no. Nothing
like that. I guess I was just caught off-guard about the pendant, especially
since Mum never mentioned it before. I’d be interested to know more.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Well, your mother kept a lot of things to
herself, so don’t be vexed about that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I’m not.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“And, I’ve haven’t
really been out this past week, so I’ve not heard anything, but Mrs. Reilly
might know. She knows everything.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gwen chuckled. “I’ll ask her, when I visit
Anne later.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Well now my
curiosity is piqued,” the reverend said, sliding a folder across the desk. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Gwen opened the
folder and took the pen the reverend offered to her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“So is mine,” she whispered.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />Lisa Forgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05403945102147940070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5826519111103951524.post-68982723729924741692020-05-13T08:00:00.000-04:002020-06-25T10:45:40.397-04:00"Love Eternal" by Lisa Forget -- Chapter 2<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Despite getting
very little rest over the course of the weekend, thanks to strange and vivid
dreams, Gwen was determined to keep her Monday morning appointment with Reverend
Matthews. He expected her at his office to sign final papers, and settle her
mother’s affairs. However hard it would be, she had to cope with her grief and face
things head on to take care of what needed to be done. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tucking her handbag under her arm, Gwen opened
the front door only to be met by piercing black eyes. “Oh, my goodness, it’s
you!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“My apologies,” the
stranger from the cemetery said. “I was just about to knock.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You startled me.” The man who’d been appearing
in some of those strange dreams she’d been having, was now standing right in
front of her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“You remember me.”
His eyes searched her face.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I…I was
distraught at the time, but of course…I mean yes, I remember you from… the
other day.” The heat rose in her cheeks and her pulse quickened as she gripped
the door, trying to make sense of her reaction to a man she didn’t even know. “Can
I help you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Actually, I think
you’re the only one who can.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
She glanced past
him, scanning the road in front of her house. “Is someone hurt?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“No, it’s nothing
of that nature,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s that… you’re the only one who
can help me. Actually, I believe we’re destined to help each other.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Destined? I’m sorry Mr…?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Pryce.” He tipped
his hat.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Mr. Pryce,” she
repeated, noticing his accent but unable to quite place it. “I don’t understand.”<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Our meeting one
another has been a long time in coming.” He raised his hand to his brow, wiping
what looked to be a nervous sheen. “I’ve been looking for you for months.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Looking for me?” His
words should have raised some sort of alarm; but when his eyes again met
hers,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gwen was distracted by how they weren’t
black, but a beautiful warm brown, flecked with gold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A gust of wind blew through the open door,
making her shudder. “Whatever for?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Could you spare a
few moments to speak with me?” Mr. Pryce held on to his hat, as the wind seemed
determined to blow it away.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I have an
appointment this morning Mr. Pryce. Couldn’t you just tell me why you’re here
and why you’ve been looking for me?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“It’s complicated
and a mite unbelievable. If I don’t have a few moments to explain properly, I
may make such a mess of this that you’d be inclined to order me off your
porch.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I just might do that anyway.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">“Yes, of course, and that would be completely
understandable,” he said with a tight-lipped smile. He nodded and then let out
a breath. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It would seem…I can’t live
without you.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“W-What?” She
sputtered. “You’ve definitely mistaken me for someone else.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Believe
me, I’m not mistaken.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Oh, you are, Mr.
Pryce, and if you’ll excuse me, I really have to go.” Gwen reached out to close
the door, but Mr. Pryce caught her hand with his.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Please give me a
chance to explain, Miss Evans.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
She went still. “How
do you even know me?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“This isn’t how
I imagined it would be. I’m sorry.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Imagined<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">what</span></i>
would be?” Gwen wondered if he meant the tingling sensation emanating from
where his hand touched hers. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I don’t want to
frighten you. I promise, I mean you no harm.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
She pulled her
hand from his grasp, looking him squarely in the eye. “I’m not afraid.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Then you’re
braver than I.” His eyes were filled with an emotion Gwen felt was surely too
intimate to be appropriate.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Why are you looking
at me that way?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You don’t know how important this moment is
for me. Please, allow me just a few moments.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
His sincerity rang
true, Gwen thought, and hadn’t she, only a few days ago, wished for a few more
moments to find out more about him? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I’ll give you ten.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I’ll make them
count.” Mr. Pryce crossed the threshold and entered the house. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
* *
* *<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“You have a lovely
home.” Mr. Pryce’s gaze shifted to the portrait above the piano. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“That’s my grandmother
in the painting,” Gwen said, glancing up at Nan’s youthful, oval face. Her fine
features framed by rich caramel coloured hair, a shade darker than Gwen’s but
wavy and long like hers. Her almond-shaped, ocean-blue eyes looked out from
under her long, dark lashes. They held a playful sparkle, and in Gwen’s
opinion, her grandmother’s most striking feature.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“You look like
her.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Nan used to say the women in our family had a
strong resemblance.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Is that so?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Gwen watched Mr.
Pryce carefully as he took in his surroundings then turned back to her. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Please tell me why you’re here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yes, of course.” He placed his hat on the
table by the settee. “I’ll begin by saying that our story began many years
ago.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Our story? We’ve
only just met.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That
may be true but you might say I’m an old soul.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“And
how does that have anything to do with me?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Well,
I believe you are an old soul, as well.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
still don’t see how our souls have –”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That’s
why I came here. To invite you back to my home in Snowdonia.” The light in his
eyes shone hopeful. “Where I believe everything would make sense.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m stunned. Why would you come to Angel’s
Cove thinking I’d go back with you?” Gwen’s eyes followed him as he began to
pace back and forth.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Seeing the look of distrust in your eyes, I’m
asking myself the same thing,” he replied. “After all this time, planning what
I was going to say to you, I realize that I’ve gone about this all wrong. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I should have written to you. Introduced
myself. Perhaps explained in a letter. I can’t blame you for thinking I’m out
of my head.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“It’s not that I
think you’re crazy, only believing I would follow a stranger to wherever it is
that you come from is—”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Wales.” Mr. Pryce
stopped pacing. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“You’re from Wales?”
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes, I live there
with my family. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You have ancestors from
there as well.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
A memory flashed
in her mind of Nan recounting how their ancestors, the Brecons, had come from
Wales.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Although you don’t
know it yet, we are connected, you and I.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Gwen stared at Mr.
Pryce, her brows knitting together. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I swear it’s the
truth. I know everything would become clear if you return with me to the
Snowdonia Mountains. I’m certain of it.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“How can you possibly think I’d go with you to
Wales and why would I want to?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
A bead of
perspiration ran down in his brow. “Because our families share an intimate
history.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“For Heaven’s sake, I don’t even know you!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Miss Evans,
you’ve only given me ten minutes to convince you…” He ran his hand through his
hair, struggling for the right words to say. “Our history binds your family and
mine in a way that we cannot live one without the other.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“There you go again
with that!” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I understand
you’ve-” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“You don’t
understand anything about what I’ve gone through, Mr. Pryce.” She gripped the
back of the chair. “I don’t know what you’re really looking for by coming here.
I have no fortune hidden away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t
know much about the history of my family, but I can guarantee I’m not the
person you cannot live without.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Miss Evans, I’m
not looking for money. I would never take anything from you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Well I wanted to make
it clear, since we don’t know each other.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“But I do know you,” he replied. “You were
born January 25<sup>th</sup> 1914, the only child of Catherine Brecon and
Thomas Evans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’ve lived in this town,
in this house, all of your life.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Gwen’s eyes
narrowed. “Facts easily obtained if one knows where to look.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“You were an
excellent student, you’re an asset to the hospital, you attend church every
Sunday, and you’re very well liked, especially by someone named John Allen.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Was it her
imagination, or did his jaw tighten when he mentioned John’s name? “John’s just
a friend.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Anne Reilly, the
woman who consoled you in the cemetery, she is your closest childhood friend.” The
details were becoming more personal.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Obviously, you
have me at a disadvantage, and I don’t like it. How you were able to get people
to tell you these things about me, confounds me.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I didn’t. They
only confirmed what I already knew. I told you, there’s a connection. You hold
the key to everything.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“What key?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Mr. Pryce reached
into his cloak, pulled out a black leather pouch and placed it in Gwen’s hand.
“Open it. The contents might help explain.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
His fingers
brushed her palm, sending a shiver up her arm. Gwen stared at the pouch for a
brief moment before untying the leather thong and emptying its contents into
her hand. She bit the inside of her lip to hide her surprise. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
In her palm she
held the same gold pendant as the one her mother left to her, the same one hidden
beneath her blouse. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
A soft vibrating
hum resonated. Her eyes darted to Mr. Pryce, wondering if he could hear it,
too.<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“It’s beautiful,”
she whispered. “Does it belong to you, Mr. Pryce?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes. There’s an engraving
on the back.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Gwen turned the
pendant over, staring at the familiar intricate artwork. The engraving was
etched exactly the same with one difference.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Dwynwen,” she said aloud. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes. And there is
the first bit of evidence I have to prove our families are connected.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“How so?” she
asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Dwynwen is your grandmother’s name. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The engraving reads ‘A cross to guide us and a
never-ending circle to bind us, forever’. It’s a promise. A vow. Made to
Dwynwen. The first in your family,” he said, gesturing to the portrait on the
wall. “Those who came after were named for her, your great grandmother
included.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“What are you
talking about?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Dwynwen, she had
a pendant just like this one. You have seen it, I’m sure.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Mr. Pryce, I’ve never seen anything like it.”
The pendant, like her lie, weighed heavy on her chest. “You claim to know all
about my family, yet…” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Miss Evans, it is imperative that I return
home as soon as possible. Your coming to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Wales</st1:country-region></st1:place> is a matter of life and
death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Doesn’t the engraving, and its
message help convince you I’m connected to your family?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“How could you
possibly think such a thing?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are
no facts, no proof, only a name, which convinces me of nothing. You may know
things about me, and the ability to find out more when you came to Angel’s
Cove, but you can’t possibly know about the rest of my family. And if my
grandmother did own a pendant like this, how would you know?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Because, I do,
Miss Evans.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That’s
not the right answer. A matter of life and death….really!” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gwen grumbled as she marched to the front door
and threw it open. “Your time is up, Mr. Pryce.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Mr. Pryce was on Gwen’s
heels and when she turned, he caught her hands once more.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“What are you
doing?” she asked, feeling something like an electric shock pass between them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I
didn’t come all this way to give up so easily. I know Dwynwen had a pendant
just like this one.” He stared down at the pendant still clenched in Gwen’s
fist. “I believe your mother gave it to you.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
He knew about the
pendant, the twin of the one in her hand!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But how?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Damn it! Damn him!<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Gwen pulled away
from him, steadying herself on the banister of the staircase by the door, “All
right, you won’t tell me how you know all these things, but maybe you can
answer one question.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“If I can, I
will.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Who is Liam?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Mr. Pryce stood
unblinking for what felt to Gwen like an endless moment. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I am.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Gwen gasped for
breath as the walls closed in on her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Gwen, are you all
right?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The man with the name that had
only hours ago, echoed in the silence of her mournful home, called out to her
as she felt her body sink to the floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Mr. Pryce caught
her in his arms, the pendant slipped from her grasp, falling onto the floor,
where it landed with a soft thud.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />Lisa Forgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05403945102147940070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5826519111103951524.post-40266442489865943542020-04-30T00:20:00.003-04:002020-07-08T19:11:56.715-04:00"Love Eternal" by Lisa Forget --Chapter 1<span style="font-family: inherit;">I hope this message finds you and your family well in </span>these strange and uncertain times.<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">While our priority is to stay safe, we also need to take care of our mind and soul, especially when our world is looking and feeling so much different.</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Many people are keeping sane through music, writing, painting, dancing, baking, cooking, gardening, etc, etc, and generously sharing their talents and know-how. It's so wonderful and entertaining!</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">For me, music is what keeps me happy, but I also love to write. I've tucked away several unfinished stories over the years, which I came across in my isolation clean-up. I was reminded of how much I enjoy writing and it had me thinking, I should really get back at it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">There's no time like the present! </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I think I'll start with "Love Eternal" (originally titled "Bound"), which was my very first story written about 10 years ago. It's a (paranormal) romance rooted in the legend of St. Dwynwen, the Welsh patron saint of Love.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">My idea is to rework the story chapter by chapter and share those chapters here, one at a time. I think this process will help me type "The End" once and for all on this tale! (shout out and thank you to author Kelley Armstrong for generously sharing her brand-new story online - two chapters a week! Her wonderful chapter-by-chapter idea inspired this project.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
I hope you enjoy.....<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>LOVE ETERNAL</b></span><br />
<b style="font-family: inherit;">Chapter one</b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwIlUYfb50JtvDK59xBB_ornOFLJ4XkZNshoWNICKTaUWfCbsq7u2h2o1ve5RMtWI5Cbxo2Oqmv7hgXuuKJtbxRA2sJqGp7Lny6hCz-4QfUJRLRUv0fIYJuWtYTYYBlZACt23o5D3r0hY/s1600/celtic-woman-welsh-scottish-female-preview+edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="457" data-original-width="485" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwIlUYfb50JtvDK59xBB_ornOFLJ4XkZNshoWNICKTaUWfCbsq7u2h2o1ve5RMtWI5Cbxo2Oqmv7hgXuuKJtbxRA2sJqGp7Lny6hCz-4QfUJRLRUv0fIYJuWtYTYYBlZACt23o5D3r0hY/s320/celtic-woman-welsh-scottish-female-preview+edited.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span>
<b>Angel’s Cove, </b><b>Newfoundland</b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<b>1935<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Until we meet
again,” Gwen whispered, placing a pink rose on her mother’s coffin. As the
casket was lowered, she closed her eyes, and beautiful memories flooded her
mind, making her heart ache. A tear slipped down her cheek and her thoughts
drifted to a place far from Angel’s Cove, a place she visited only in her
dreams, where strangely, she found comfort. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
The grave-side service
ended with a final, “Amen.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Gwen opened her
eyes with a start. Reality gripped her. She began to tremble and her world
began to spin.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Gwen!”
Reverend Matthews' voice rang like a distant echo. His gentle hands
closed on her shoulders, pulling her back from the earth’s edge.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Breathe, Gwen.
Breathe.” Anne urged, sharing a worried look
with the reverend. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I’m sorry,” Gwen cried.
“I didn’t mean to--”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Shh…” Reverend
Matthews gathered her into the crook of his arm. “There’s nothing to be sorry
about.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“She’s all right,” Anne assured the people who
had gathered behind her. “Let’s give her some room.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Why don’t we get back
to the house.” Mrs. Reilly rallied the concerned friends and neighbours. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Good idea, mum,”
Anne agreed, leading everyone away from where Gwen was weeping in Reverend
Matthews arms. “Time to set out the food and put the kettle on.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Murmurs of “yes,
yes, of course”, “poor soul”, and “such a shame” drifted on the breeze as people
exited the cemetery. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“You’re going to
be all right Gwen.” The reverend assured her. “I promise.”</div>
<div class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Gwen had known Reverend Matthews all her life. He was
more than just a trusted friend; he was the closest thing to a father-figure
she’d had in her life. He’d loved her mother. Always had. This day was
difficult for him, as well.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I know.” Gwen agreed.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Should we go?”
the reverend wondered. “Follow the others?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I’d like to sit here
a little longer.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I can stay with
you if you’d like,” he replied, handing her a handkerchief.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I think I need a
few minutes, alone.” She wiped her eyes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Of course.” The
reverend nodded. “Anne will walk back with you when you’re ready?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes, she will.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“All right. Maybe
I should check in on Mr. Brady on my way back to the house.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“That would be
nice of you.” Gwen looked up; her eyes glistening. “Mum used to do that.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“He was so fond of
her,” the reverend replied. “And of you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Gwen smiled behind
her tears. She knew the old Irishman well, having tended to him at St. Jude’s
hospital where she’d been nursing for over a year. “Tell him I’ll visit soon.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“You are so like your mother.” The reverend sighed,
leading Gwen to the bench by the path. “Don’t stay out here too long, you’ll
catch a chill.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Gwen nodded as the
reverend made his way down to the cemetery gate. He stopped a moment to speak
with Anne before leaving the cemetery and heading to Mr. Brady’s cottage.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
The April wind caressed
Gwen’s cheek as it gusted by. She breathed in the cool air, and then let it out
slowly, willing it to calm her. Wrapping her shawl tighter around her
shoulders, she listened to the wind whistling through the branches of the
budding maple trees that lined the path. The breeze scattered old, dead leaves
across the cemetery, sending a single leaf floating in the air. Gwen watched as
the lone leaf danced on the wind and landed at the foot of a grove of Ash trees,
reminding her she was alone, too. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
A quiet rustle
sounded, and Gwen lifted her eyes. A man
appeared across from where she was sitting, silently watching her. Spellbound,
Gwen couldn’t look away. In those moments, a hush settled around her, as though
the volume button on the world had been lowered. When the stranger stepped from out of the
shadow of the trees, something in the way he moved sparked an odd, yet familiar
feeling. It was like a sense of relief, and it came over her instantly. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Who are you?” Gwen
whispered, struggling to remember when or where they’d met. Trying to
understand why seeing this man would make her want to walk over to him and bury
her sorrow in his embrace.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
The stranger’s
stare was unwavering as he stood across the path. His dark eyes were half-hidden by the brim of
his hat, and the cool wind made his coat billow. He looked like a mysterious,
imagined hero from a novel.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
When the man moved
suddenly toward her, Gwen’s heart raced. <span class="apple-style-span">For a moment, she wasn't
sitting in a graveyard mourning her mother; but standing in a place where the sun-filled sky warmed her skin and the
scent of the sea floated in the air.</span> Her lips parted at the same
time as the stranger began to speak, but before he uttered a word, Anne called
out, “Are you ready Gwen?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Startled, Gwen’s eyes darted to where her
friend was walking toward her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Y-yes. I’m coming,”
she quickly replied.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Gwen glanced back
across the path but the spot in front of the grove was empty. The man had
disappeared.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Anne wrapped her
arms around Gwen’s waist as she followed her gaze. “What is it?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
The trees bent
gently in the wind. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Nothing.” The cool
air once again stroked Gwen’s cheek but it did not offer comfort, instead it
left a <span class="apple-style-span">feeling of
emptiness</span>. “It was nothing.”
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Anne pulled Gwen
close. “Come,” Her tone was as gentle as her touch. “I’ll make you a nice cup
of tea.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
When they reached
the wrought-iron gate Gwen glanced back. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Two men stood
holding shovels. Without a word they began to fill her mother’s grave.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
* *
* *<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoFooter" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Mum has
everything under control.” Anne announced, nodding in the direction of where her
mother was bustling about the kitchen with the ladies from the church auxiliary
group.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Sit.” Anne lead Gwen to the settee. “I’ll be
right back.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
As she waited for
Anne to return, the odd encounter with the stranger entered her mind. She would
have appreciated a few more moments to find our who he was and why he was there,
but she couldn’t think more on it now as friends from the community came to
offer their condolences. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Gwen lost herself
in the quiet chatter of the members of the Angel Cove community gathered in the
parlour. The friends who had embraced her mother in the spring of 1913, the
year she’d returned home from England, widowed and pregnant. The community who helped
her mother piece her life together, ensuring she had everything she needed for
the new baby who would arrive the following January. Nan had also worked her
magic, securing her daughter the position of church secretary to Reverend
Matthews. No, she wasn’t alone. These people were like family and all she had
left.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“This is nice,” Reverend
Matthews whispered, taking a seat beside her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“You’re back,”
Gwen smiled.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Glancing around
the room the reverend nodded at a small group of people standing by the buffet
table. “Catherine would have been very happy to see everyone gathering to
support you during this…” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“They’ve been so
kind,’ she replied. “And Mr. Brady?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Just a stomach
upset. He’ll be fine,” the reverend reassured, the corners of his lips rose at
the mention of the Irishman’s name. “He says you have <i>the gift</i>.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“What <i>gift</i>?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“He insists that
the other day you healed him.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Gwen chuckled; the
idea absurd. “Antiseptic salve and good bandaging works wonders on nasty cuts.”
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Well, his hand is
healed and he’s convinced it’s your doing.” The reverend smiled, resting his
hand on hers. “He thinks so highly of you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Gwen nodded, not
trusting her fragile emotions enough to respond.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Have you eaten
anything?” he asked, changing the subject.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I’m not hungry.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“You need to keep
up your strength,” he chided. “I’ll get you something.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Kind and gentle,
Reverend Ian Matthews was a good man. Gwen noticed his eyes sparkled when he
laughed, especially around Catherine Evans. No matter how hard the matchmakers
tried, Gwen knew there could never be anyone but her mother for this man, even
though, faithful to the memory of her deceased husband, she could never fully give
him her heart.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Ann’ll be over in
two shakes with something for our Gwen.” Mrs. Reilly said, tucking an errant
strand of hair behind Gwen’s ear. “Come to the kitchen with me Reverend. You
need a cuppa tea yourself, and maybe some of those little pinwheel sandwiches
you like.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Reverend Matthews
grinned at Gwen. “Can anyone say no to the likes of that tiny woman?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Many have tried,
few have succeeded,” Mrs. Reilly declared over her shoulder.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
* *
* * <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Are you sure you
don’t need me to stay with you tonight?”
Anne asked for the third time. “You shouldn’t-” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I’ll be fine
alone.” Gwen insisted.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I know you’re
strong, and you’ll be fine in time, but I don’t want you to even think about
coming back to the hospital until you are good and ready. They owe you for all
those extra hours you’ve worked. Take them.
Put things in order. We’ll manage.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Gwen nodded. “That’s
probably best.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Good.” Anne
cupped Gwen’s face in her hands. “I’ve already told Nurse Allen.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Gwen’s eyes
widened. “You’re incredible.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I know. Now if
you could just spread the news to some eligible young men, I’d appreciate it.”
She placed a kiss on Gwen’s forehead.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Gwen dear, you
look exhausted,” Mrs. Reilly said, collecting her things from the kitchen
table. “Get yourself to bed.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes, off to bed
with you.” Anne insisted. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. I put the bouquet of roses
in a vase beside the piano. I’ll see you in the morning.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“What bouquet?”
Gwen asked, but the women had already left, and the empty house echoed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Wandering back
into the parlour she cast a wistful glance at the pink roses on the piano her
mother loved to play. Gwen moved closer. Her mother’s hymnal lay open to psalm
twenty-three. “My soul he doth restore
again,” she read the line softly. “If
only.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
That night, as Gwen
lay cocooned in the warmth of her mother’s quilt, she cried herself to sleep,
and dreamed she was floating in the ocean under a bright orange sun. Her long
honey-coloured hair moved around her shoulders like golden seaweed. Gwen could
see her mother standing on a sandy beach in the distance, wearing a big floppy
straw hat. A beautiful majestic mountain loomed behind her. Her mother was smiling
and waving, and calling out to her. Gwen strained to hear what she was saying, but
the sound of the ocean filled her ears.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i>Liam.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“What?”<i> </i> A wave suddenly rose,
pushing Gwen underwater. She fought against the force of the wave until she burst
free from the ocean’s grasp.<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Mum?” Gwen cried,
gasping for air as she woke from her dream. “What did you say?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Her hope-filled
question echoed in the silence. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
* *
* *<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
The next evening, Gwen
found the courage to open the envelope Reverend Matthews had given to her before
he’d left the wake. “<i>Your mother asked me to give this to you</i>,” he’d
said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
She slowly unfolded the vellum
writing paper and read her mother’s message.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i>Dear Gwen, <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i>You were my
gift from Heaven and brought such joy to my life. I am so proud of the person you have become and the person I
know you will be. Live every day to the fullest. </i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i>Enjoy every opportunity. Don’t be afraid to follow your dreams. </i><i style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Take chances and follow your heart.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .5in;">
<i>The key in this
envelope opens a little box on my bookshelf. It’s been in my family for a very
long time and now, it’s yours.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i>I know you will
have an eternity of happiness and love. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i>Remember, I’ll
always be with you.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i>I love you with
all my heart.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i>Forever, Mum<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Gwen could barely
see the last beautifully penned lines from the tears welling up in her eyes. After
reading the letter again she took the key from the envelope, and stepped over
to the bookcase. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Reaching up to the
top shelf she found the small wooden box, slipped the key into the lock and opened
the lid. Inside, wrapped in a silken cloth, was a gold pendant and chain. It
wasn’t an ordinary or delicate type of pendant, but one similar to those she’d
seen in old books about Celtic lore. Tracing the beautiful symbols with her
trembling finger, she admired the intricate knot-worked cross and circle in her
hand. There was an engraving etched on the back of the pendant.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .5in;">
She drew in a
sharp breath. “Liam.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .5in;">
The name she’d
heard echoed in her dream was etched in the pendant. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .5in;">
“Where did this
come from?” She turned the pendant over repeatedly in<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
her hand, “and why have I never
seen it before?’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i>“It’s yours,
Gwen.” <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Startled, Gwen
glanced around the room. “Hello?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
When no one
answered, Gwen lowered her head. <span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">“It’s your
imagination,” she murmured to herself.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
Breathing out a weary
sigh, Gwen carefully clasped the gold chain around her neck. The precious
metal felt warm against her breast and it shimmered against her skin.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
With
the pendant held tightly in her grasp, Gwen settled herself into the armchair by
the window, lulled to sleep by a soft, melodic hum resonating in the air. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
Lisa Forgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05403945102147940070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5826519111103951524.post-22053952623762351612015-08-02T12:54:00.000-04:002015-08-02T13:14:37.314-04:00A Production Assistant - I hope to never live without one again!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia3NH1YXF3VQErGAU_ZkOIa3cW_SeJeP_ieNgFalPH5Ztm4O-joiTHVhxTGR44Uoh14eqJAW1ngFhhyFUQWMg7HV5BZNqFpbctRo4Dog2rnbEuqF2HPIe94Evq35hmMz6zTHA0xEVpqdk/s1600/trevor+barrette+-+workshop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia3NH1YXF3VQErGAU_ZkOIa3cW_SeJeP_ieNgFalPH5Ztm4O-joiTHVhxTGR44Uoh14eqJAW1ngFhhyFUQWMg7HV5BZNqFpbctRo4Dog2rnbEuqF2HPIe94Evq35hmMz6zTHA0xEVpqdk/s400/trevor+barrette+-+workshop.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Trevor Barrette, himself a multi-talented actor, singer, writer, director, producer and I'm sure so many other things as well, accepted to be our Production Assistant for our workshop and presentation of Danny Boy.<br />
<br />
What a lucky day that was....<br />
<br />
A good friend of both my co-creator Chris Barillaro, and our workshop director Jonathan Patterson, I had no idea how much I would come to appreciate this wonderful and talented person, and his dedication to our project.<br />
<br />
I woke this morning with the plan to devote my day to working on the show. With coffee in one hand and laptop in the other, I set myself up on our deck, ready to "get down to it", when I opened up my inbox to find GOLD!<br />
<br />
By gold, I mean all the notes and changes that transpired during the workshop process.<br />
<br />
As a writer, you hope to capture all the subtle adjustments to your script while the actors, director and musical director are working on the stage in front of you, but in the moment, moved by seeing the script & score come to life, it wasn't always the case. My script may be all marked up with notes, but the details Trevor sent is making my job a lot easier!<br />
<br />
This might be part of a very long list of what a Production Assistant does, but from someone who has never worked with a PA, this information is... invaluable.<br />
<br />
Thank you Trevor!<br />
<br />
And congratulations on...<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
The Montreal Fringe Festival </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
2015 Frankie Awards</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxas_AhmRb9l6riAXXslGSMJ2KsJ6_2rBYxjW9pTfXpJGB0ZEvkRU4o2AHkSiEzBiLWNlK_odq9izMkY83pmmLEXs9SsUo1lAEYKZghd21Cb0nyp9a82ki4SKuFWkzjvRO2xjj_DTIjnk/s1600/Capt+Aurora+Frankie+Awards+2015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxas_AhmRb9l6riAXXslGSMJ2KsJ6_2rBYxjW9pTfXpJGB0ZEvkRU4o2AHkSiEzBiLWNlK_odq9izMkY83pmmLEXs9SsUo1lAEYKZghd21Cb0nyp9a82ki4SKuFWkzjvRO2xjj_DTIjnk/s320/Capt+Aurora+Frankie+Awards+2015.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b>Most Promising English Company </b></div>
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<b>(Segal Centre for Performing Arts</b>)</div>
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Captain Aurora: A Superhero Musical </div>
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(Kaleidoscope Theatre Montreal)</div>
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book, music, lyrics by Trevor Barrette</div>
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orchestrations by Chris Barillaro</div>
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vocal arrangements by David Terriault</div>
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directed by Trevor Barrette</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
Be who you are. Do what you do. Make it matter.<br />
Have a beautiful Sunday,<br />
Lisa<br />
<br />
<br />Lisa Forgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05403945102147940070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5826519111103951524.post-55387293573483113652015-08-01T01:45:00.004-04:002015-08-01T02:54:30.805-04:00August 1st 2015It's been so long since I've updated this blog.<br />
<br />
I can't believe how much time has passed and how many things have happened since the last time I was here.<br />
<br />
While taking little breaks from working on the edits of our new musical, Danny Boy, I've been coming upon files I had backed up on usb keys and various clouds. Wow! With DB being my main focus for the last 3 years I'd forgotten the number of works-in-progress I had stored! I've been reading through some of them and it's funny to realize I have reoccurring themes. Some of which crept into Danny Boy! LOL! My husband Shawn believes all that writing was to prepare me for DB. I think he's right.<br />
<br />
Here's one of those little files I came across, it's something I wrote while on the metro one evening. There were a couple of interesting people on that metro ride that sparked the idea. I filed it away as a potential start to the first chapter of a YA (young adult) story.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2P919znYPaLbHZoZxDXmB7Z6sz6fFsEpmXX4qewutwtv9dJEC9qs7JYDp3GN2mb2METmM3AIiTKcoX5rXQ232le-8qbYTPRILshkO5QfRIoHXBi2Rbbbv7y-j_6i4fjZdgxyuBnu4QAk/s1600/evil_eye_by_worrystonekey-d33dyea.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2P919znYPaLbHZoZxDXmB7Z6sz6fFsEpmXX4qewutwtv9dJEC9qs7JYDp3GN2mb2METmM3AIiTKcoX5rXQ232le-8qbYTPRILshkO5QfRIoHXBi2Rbbbv7y-j_6i4fjZdgxyuBnu4QAk/s400/evil_eye_by_worrystonekey-d33dyea.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><b><i>Descendant</i></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><b><i>By Lisa Forget</i></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">When I looked up from whipping Donkey
Kong’s ass on my new iPhone app, one stood to the right of the me, the other to
the left.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">They weren’t standing right beside me. I stood in
the middle of the subway train. They stood at the opposite ends.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I knew what they were, sergeants in God’s
army. If they were human, I’d think them twins. Thick, shoulder-length hair,
high cheek bones, square jaw, regal nose, they were a cross between Michael
Hutchence and Jim Morrison —two famous, dead rock stars.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I scanned the people on the train, looking
for the one they’d come for. You can’t always tell which ones are monsters. You
have to get a really good look at their eyes. Which is hard to do when people
have a tendency to avoid, at all cost, meeting the gaze of strangers.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I took another glance at the angels. The
one to my left was looking through the window, checking out the train next to
ours, the one to my right was doing the same thing out the back.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">He turned to catch me staring. I held my
breath. Angels don’t appreciate when they’re recognized. I was terrified how
he’d react.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">His lips curved, and then he winked at me.
My eyes widened. I’d never been winked at by an angel before. I didn’t have
another second to ponder the fact, when we arrived at Montmorency station, and
the doors slid open.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">My winking angel’s eyes darted to something
behind me. There wasn’t a need to turn around, whatever these two angels came
looking for, had just stepped onto the train.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">No, I don’t have eyes in the back of my head,
just a third one, in the center of my brain.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Some consider it a gift—I think it’s a
royal pain in the ass.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">However, I opened it up to get a better sense of what stood behind
me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><i>Chaos</i>.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I shut my eyes, all three of them. I hadn’t
prepared myself for the intensity of the evil that had entered.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I lifted my head and peered up at my winking angel. If
I’d thought he looked intimidating before, I’d been only half-right. Now, with
my consciousness heightened, I saw really saw him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">You can bump up the word soldier to
warrior, the kind you’ve seen in epics set in ancient times, when men did
everything without the aid of machinery, creating hard, thick bodies able to defend
their clans with their bare hands.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The angel’s jaw clenched when he felt my
eyes on him. Throwing a reluctant glance my way, I understood his message. <i>Say nothing. Do nothing. Don’t move.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Yeah, right, I got it, but I had to know
what we were up against. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Don’t worry.” I mouthed, lowering my head.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Right at that moment, a woman stood up,
vacating the seat beside where I stood. </span>I lowered myself into it, glancing over at
the crowd by the doors.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">A young dark-haired man stood in their
midst. He turned and glared at me with his glinting, dark eyes. I couldn’t look
away, even though I wanted to with every ounce of my will. Our gazes were
fused, we were joined, the devil and I and he proceeded to read me—mind, heart,
and soul.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I didn’t want him inside my head, but as long as
he was busy with me, he was leaving everyone else alone. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The entire time we’d locked gazes, I didn’t
breath. Terrified, my heart beat a frantic rhythm against my ribs, as he probed
me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Descendant, what are you doing? A voice
whispered in my ear. “Your talents lie wasted.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Even if I could look around, I had no need,
no one else heard the devil speak.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“I have no talents,” I bluffed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“False modesty does not become you Anna.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“I have no interest in what you’re
referring to,” I said, my manner bold, countering how freaked out his speaking
my name made me feel.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Yet, here you are, sitting between two
angels and me, knowing exactly who and what we are.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“I don’t know you.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Stop pretending, Anna. We’re having this
conversation —in your head, remember?” He paused, his eyes widened, ever so
slight. “I know everything about you.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“No you don’t.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“It is how I knew where you would be
today.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“You came looking for me?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">A grin slid across his lips like a snake. "</span>I came to see if what the prophets said
was true.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Prophets? What prophets? What would they
have to say that concerns me?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The devil laughed. </span>“Can it be you have no knowledge of your
heritage? Your destiny?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">My body broke out in a cold sweat. My hands
tingled. My stomach knotted. I felt sick and faint.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Ah, yes. I understand,” the devil said.
“Someone has gotten to you first.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">My arms wrapped around my middle and I bent
over, my eyes still locked with the evil one standing across the train.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“My attention was called elsewhere. I’ve
been occupied: war, disaster, blood, and hunger, all demand so much of my time.
I waited too long to make contact.” His hand swept through his thick, black
hair. “However, we have much to discuss. You and I will speak again—in
private.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">We reached the next stop. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The doors slid open.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The devil released me. Our bond severed, I
slumped. As my body slid off the seat, the angels held me by the arms.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I looked up. Their faces radiated a warm light. Behind
them, the people in the subway had disappeared, replaced by sunlight and a
field of wheat.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f1f1f1; color: #888888; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #f1f1f1;">(</span><span style="background-color: #f1f1f1; color: #888888; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;">Evil eye by WorryStoneKey)</span></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
I'm looking forward to getting back to the stories filed away. You never know, I just might finish them!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>Be who you are, do what you do, make it matter</i>Lisa Forgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05403945102147940070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5826519111103951524.post-2144356873047228712014-09-12T22:20:00.001-04:002014-09-12T22:20:02.449-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYtLekl8oLStQ5K8yemiGHHrnnzVRt7OxY5LNEjiUKeFfmK3YGCw6gEMN-8qQByD4Q3ZMPur3bbEHDBrnAUzFMdrPQQd0ZtpZYMO5SpQ2geD0iwEvLg8Ty2LUAK6RlPsOiJg24_clT5Sw/s1600/Collages5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYtLekl8oLStQ5K8yemiGHHrnnzVRt7OxY5LNEjiUKeFfmK3YGCw6gEMN-8qQByD4Q3ZMPur3bbEHDBrnAUzFMdrPQQd0ZtpZYMO5SpQ2geD0iwEvLg8Ty2LUAK6RlPsOiJg24_clT5Sw/s1600/Collages5.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Lisa Forgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05403945102147940070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5826519111103951524.post-7175626553534752362014-08-26T22:51:00.001-04:002014-08-26T22:57:07.206-04:00"Danny Boy" kicks off the 7th edition of THE NEXT WAVE Festival of new musicals We're thrilled that our musical, DANNY BOY, will kick off THE CENTRE FOR EDUCATION AND THEATRE IN MONTRÉAL (CETM) 7th edition of<br />
<br />
THE NEXT WAVE / NOUVELLE VAGUE<br />
<br />
Festival of new musicals<br />
<br />
SEPTEMBER 25 – 28, 2014<br />
<br />
AT CALIXA-LAVALLÉE – Salle Paul-Buissonneau<br />
<br />
3819 Calixa-Lavallée, Montreal<br />
<br />
AND AT THE LION D’OR – The ‘Lionceau’ Room<br />
<br />
(enter through the Au Petit Extra Restaurant)<br />
<br />
1690 Ontario East, Montréal<br />
<br />
A world-class collection of performances, educational presentations and special events for musical theatre lovers and practitioners, as well as newbies to this unique artistic discipline.<br />
<br />
INFO : info@cetm.ca<br />
<br />
514 504 9339<br />
<br />
2014 SCHEDULE<br />
<br />
CALIXA-LAVALLÉE<br />
<br />
THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 25<br />
7:00 à 8:30 p.m.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPDFAQIah3uHigJmOc1-jupWKaU4hIgUnUJO0Nra_0e1MTultFrjmvtkrU_bqxEN_i4_NOJg9Rls_5Jhk_sZFCapllSh63JgHRG2kQ-vGaWQdrBANRMhDoKIxIrnKK1CaaqkfXxsrsLFQ/s1600/danny+boy+poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPDFAQIah3uHigJmOc1-jupWKaU4hIgUnUJO0Nra_0e1MTultFrjmvtkrU_bqxEN_i4_NOJg9Rls_5Jhk_sZFCapllSh63JgHRG2kQ-vGaWQdrBANRMhDoKIxIrnKK1CaaqkfXxsrsLFQ/s1600/danny+boy+poster.jpg" height="216" width="320" /></a></div>
DANNY BOY<br />
BY LISA FORGET AND CHRIS BARILLARO (Montreal)<br />
<br />
A love story that bridges the gap between Ireland and Canada during the era of arranged marriages.<br />
<br />
Come and hear musical numbers, see Irish dances and take a look behind the scenes with the Montreal-based creators of this new musical comedy with melodies that will stir your sou<br />
<br />
<br />
We hope to see you there!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Lisa Forgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05403945102147940070noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5826519111103951524.post-31060434571654115002013-04-25T07:00:00.000-04:002013-04-25T07:00:15.214-04:00Girls & Monsters - An interview with Author Anne Michaud<br />
<div class="WordSection1">
<div class="MsoNormal">
She who likes dark things never grew up. She never stopped
listening to gothic, industrial and alternative bands like when she was
fifteen. She always loved to read horror and dystopia and fantasy, where doom
and gloom drip from the pages.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt092jDGHL4c9WxY_H2Y5USPSindmbZARd_DjW2GFstwo139PuONv7GS2Jn3CeU5skPuxNhvMe6sE-3o-KfdCbk0riDXRZS6e28lFt9MY6C8t_AhtKxLKexKpzDxuQFE17b0wrMziAc5E/s1600/Anne_Michaud.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt092jDGHL4c9WxY_H2Y5USPSindmbZARd_DjW2GFstwo139PuONv7GS2Jn3CeU5skPuxNhvMe6sE-3o-KfdCbk0riDXRZS6e28lFt9MY6C8t_AhtKxLKexKpzDxuQFE17b0wrMziAc5E/s320/Anne_Michaud.jpg" width="207" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She, who was supposed to make films, decided to write short
stories, novelettes and novels instead. She, who’s had her films listed on
festival programs, has been printed in a dozen anthologies and magazines since.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She who likes dark things prefers night to day, rain to sun,
and reading to anything else.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She is Anne Michaud....</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="Contenudetableau" style="line-height: 16.5pt; margin-bottom: 14.15pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Lisa: Welcome to my little corner of cyberspace Anne!!! I'm in the throes of reading your book. I'm loving it! Creepy, thought-provoking,enjoyable morsel of literature. Tell me, what sparked the idea to write Girls and Monsters?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Contenudetableau" style="line-height: 16.5pt; margin-bottom: 14.15pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Anne: I had a bunch of short stories either rejected by
magazines or that were supposed to be part of anthologies that never saw the
day, so instead of having them locked up in my computer, I decided to expand
them into novellas. Actually, I got the idea after writing Misery of Me
(Tattered Souls volume 2, Cutting Block Press), since I loved writing novellas,
I decided to changed them all and group them into one collection.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Contenudetableau" style="line-height: 16.5pt; margin-bottom: 14.15pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Lisa: An ingenious way for us all to enjoy your dark tales - all nestled between two covers.</span></div>
<div class="Contenudetableau" style="line-height: 16.5pt; margin-bottom: 14.15pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Now, the "Girls" of Girls and Monster face some pretty scary creatures, tell me what monster do you fear
most?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Contenudetableau" style="line-height: 16.5pt; margin-bottom: 14.15pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Anne: Man. After wars, rapes,
murders, hate and abuse, I think Man is the biggest monster of them all. What
we can do when we're angry, how easily we can turn into monsters ourselves,
this is what truly frightens me.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 16.5pt;">Lisa: No truer words could ever have been uttered.... How about </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 16.5pt;"> the tales told in this collection of dark
fiction, were any inspired by strange, yet true, events?</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Anne: Well, Death Song and We Left at Night were both
dreams I had a couple years ago, which makes them true in my life. I had a
crazy neighbor growing-up, so the monster in A Blue Story wasn't hard to find.
Black Dog was inspired by my first time in London living there, where I stayed
in a youth hostels with a Churchill statue across the street. And Dust Bunnies
is a mix of The Cure's Lullaby and Christiane F's (young Berliner prostituting
for heroin), which could be considered true events – and sad, for sure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Lisa: And would you say</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> there's a message, in the stories featured in
Girls and Monsters, that you hope to get across to your readers?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Anne: YES! Girls can be strong, can fight, don't need
boys or adults to be in charge. Girls don't have to conform to society's
perception of what they can and cannot do; they can be whatever they want. I
want the girls who read this to understand we all make mistakes, we can all be
weak at times, but in the end, we can kick butts.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Lisa: GIRL POWER!!! LOVE IT!! Any
plans for Girls facing other supernatural entities?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: HI; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">anne: Of course, dear friend. I'm finishing up a soft sci-fi
collection of novellas called Girls & Aliens, and the next one will be
Girls & Ghosts. Dark and creepy would best describe these collections,
methinks.</span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: HI; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Lisa: Can't wait!</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: HI; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">Well Girls and Boys....</span></div>
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She blogs <a href="http://annecmichaud.wordpress.com/">http://annecmichaud.wordpress.com</a></div>
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She Facebooks: <a href="http://www.facebook.com/annecmichaud">http://www.facebook.com/annecmichaud</a></div>
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She tweets @annecmichaud</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDlCPL_RwXhClWtY_NeB2_HhbOvvl2JV_9xIEKaDA12JxXO1qx28K2HtWCk_PGjCk5FLsjIXb_rUJKo2z38UUT0GGVuja9xFIi1mSRDmu9neJhyv5QgLZVrEdDqnybpwOq-JJFojEc_14/s1600/G&MBANNER.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDlCPL_RwXhClWtY_NeB2_HhbOvvl2JV_9xIEKaDA12JxXO1qx28K2HtWCk_PGjCk5FLsjIXb_rUJKo2z38UUT0GGVuja9xFIi1mSRDmu9neJhyv5QgLZVrEdDqnybpwOq-JJFojEc_14/s400/G&MBANNER.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Buy GIRLS AND MONSTERS on Amazon: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CCQ1Q6W">http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CCQ1Q6W</a></div>
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Girls & Monsters Goodreads page: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17335353-girls-monsters">http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17335353-girls-monsters</a></div>
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<b>ATTENTION.....ATTENTION......THERE'S A GIVEAWAY!</b>!!</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNbrs45EzKIwen1GgPu23-0WzsaGTfB2IQmaE3MNQnVh4QV9EKUfMctjOrrzJRLIsW5zJZ4BRqqtDIEA1y6YaS1JtLxhDTCob9IrzW-5Y0WXQ0G16xJKwyGvmYwu7NElN_ktiNBv5_Dq8/s1600/Skellies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNbrs45EzKIwen1GgPu23-0WzsaGTfB2IQmaE3MNQnVh4QV9EKUfMctjOrrzJRLIsW5zJZ4BRqqtDIEA1y6YaS1JtLxhDTCob9IrzW-5Y0WXQ0G16xJKwyGvmYwu7NElN_ktiNBv5_Dq8/s320/Skellies.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Giveaway Softcover copy + The Monster Collection Skellies,
5 pieces handcrafted by the author: </div>
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** Giveaway link for people on Wordpress:
http://www.darkfuse.com/contact/view.php?id=10891" </div>
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The winner will be announced during the LIVE CHAT on release
day, April 30<sup>th</sup> at 9PM east <a href="http://www.darkfuse.com/events.html"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">http://www.darkfuse.com/events.html</span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Thank you so much Anne for dropping by and allowing us to be part of your BLOG TOUR! </span></b></span><br />
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<br />Lisa Forgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05403945102147940070noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5826519111103951524.post-10387204154315855492013-02-09T14:21:00.000-05:002013-02-09T14:21:01.591-05:00Girls & MonstersI can't believe it's been so long since I've posted! Things have been crazy hectic yet creative and positive, but more about that in another post...<br />
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This post is dedicated to a writing friend of mine with a collection of dark novelettes scheduled for release mid-April. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ60Q9sB25yAGfu0NJP451JFKqUN7ZIDxFeFy7W7M6nL_ipRqR6M616b8uaN7W9H30P514HTpzgck0fa_KGmZydpuUGGRMaSlj3Xo9hlwXW7hpuilINOwKENe-iVx284seDbnBcIYUGIU/s1600/girls&monsters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" jea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ60Q9sB25yAGfu0NJP451JFKqUN7ZIDxFeFy7W7M6nL_ipRqR6M616b8uaN7W9H30P514HTpzgck0fa_KGmZydpuUGGRMaSlj3Xo9hlwXW7hpuilINOwKENe-iVx284seDbnBcIYUGIU/s640/girls&monsters.jpg" width="401" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><strong>A giant spider, a killer mermaid, a mad neighbor, zombies and a very dark soul - monsters, everywhere. </strong><br />
<strong>Wanna see what girls can do to them? Check out this collection of 5 dark novelettes.</strong></td></tr>
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<em><strong>Death Song Excerpt </strong></em></div>
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<em>Something catches in the back of my throat. I </em></div>
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<em>hide my face in my hands to quiet the sobs. But then, </em></div>
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<em>something ain’t right. Air moves around me and I </em></div>
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<em>stop. I look between my fingers, but the blur of my </em></div>
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<em>tears thickens everything: the bathtub, the towels, </em></div>
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<em>and someone on the floor. </em></div>
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<em>A woman’s in here with me, door still closed and </em></div>
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<em>locked. An exhale, like after a deep swim, and a smell, </em></div>
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<em>like the swamp close to my empty home. A chill runs </em></div>
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<em>down my back, I wipe my eyes, rub and scratch them </em></div>
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<em>to see more clearly. And I do. </em></div>
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<em>Two gray hands scratch the floor tiles, nails green </em></div>
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<em>with algae, putrid flesh sagging on her legs, arms </em></div>
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<em>and torso, hair so long and wet and heavy, it drags </em></div>
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<em>her down. Diluted, impossible to focus on, like little </em></div>
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<em>waves rippling over her body from head to foot, seaweed </em></div>
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<em>in the water. Scales and fins, mermaidlike, little </em></div>
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<em>knives, those are. And they scrape the floor, like a </em></div>
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<em>fork on a plate. It’s her—Limnade. </em></div>
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<em>She opens her mouth of scissor-teeth and the rotten </em></div>
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<em>smell of fish wraps around my throat like two </em></div>
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<em>hands trying to choke me. </em></div>
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<em>“You can’t be…” I don’t finish my breathless </em></div>
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<em>thought and jump backward, knocking over the dish </em></div>
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<em>of decorative soaps. Blurry waves, vision impaired, </em></div>
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<em>out of focus, unreal. She crawls toward me, eyes unblinking, </em></div>
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<em>lethal, hands inches from me: my legs refuse </em></div>
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<em>to move, as my body feels like stone. Frozen, </em></div>
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<em>hypnotized, a statue. Then I hear something coming </em></div>
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<em>from within her… </em></div>
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<em>A melody, reminding me of something lost, tickles </em></div>
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<em>my ears. It drags on until the sweetness turns sickly, </em></div>
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<em>vibrating into a full-on super-scream, hyenalike, </em></div>
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<em>enough to pop my ears and make them bleed. Her </em></div>
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<em>large mouth deforms her face into one gap of black, </em></div>
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<em>the cry so high and strident, I scream from the pain. </em></div>
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<em>Limnade stares at me, everything but her fades </em></div>
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<em>away—Jo’s nice bathroom, Jo’s new life, Jo himself— </em></div>
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<em>none of it matters anymore. Her fingers brush my </em></div>
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<em>forehead, they’re cold and sticky like clams. And I let </em></div>
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<em>the darkness take me away. </em></div>
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<strong>About the Author:</strong></div>
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She who likes dark things never grew up. She never stopped listening to gothic, industrial and alternative bands like when she was fifteen. She always loved to read horror and dystopia and fantasy, where doom and gloom drip from the pages. <br />
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She, who was supposed to make films, decided to write short stories, novelettes and novels instead. She, who’s had her films listed on festival programs, has been printed in a dozen anthologies and magazines since. <br />
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She who likes dark things prefers night to day, rain to sun, and reading to anything else. <br />
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She blogs <a href="http://annecmichaud.wordpress.com/">http://annecmichaud.wordpress.com</a> <br />
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She tweets @annecmichaud <br />
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Goodreads: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17335353-girls-monsters" target="_blank">http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17335353-girls-monsters</a> Please don't be shy to click 'want to read'<br />
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I can't wait to sink my teeth into these juicy stories....<br />
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Review to come!<br />
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Lisa Forgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05403945102147940070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5826519111103951524.post-69932516632060445242012-10-06T08:01:00.000-04:002012-10-06T08:01:28.137-04:00In Concert...17 days to go!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
As I type this, I realize I'm filled with a sense of satisfaction at the fact that I accomplished what I set out to do earlier this year - compile and arrange a list of great songs I love to sing, engage wonderfully talented musicians and invited guests, put them together (all with the invaluable help of my accomplished musical director/arranger Chris Barillaro) to perform on the stage of Montreal's quintessential cabaret/concert/show venue - le Cabaret Lion d'Or!</div>
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At the moment, it's all I can think, talk, worry about!</div>
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October 23rd, 2012. Seventeen days to go!</div>
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(Well, that and going to see Barbra Streisand!! 11 days to go...)</div>
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Producing this type of show is something I've wanted to do for SOOOO long. I'm finally able to dedicate time and energy to making it happen and I couldn't be more thrilled....and nervous.</div>
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During this time of shameless (yet necessary) self-promotion, I've been reminded how loved and supported I am by my family Shawn, Caitlin, Emily, Megan, and Chad, as well as dear friends Millie, Elizabeth, Donna, Nae and Terry (and others, like the UIS) who would promote this concert through a megaphone at the top of Place Ville Marie - if it wasn't illegal - to ensure all of Montreal knew about this event! </div>
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I am blessed and so grateful. Thank you.</div>
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I can't wait for this evening at the Lion d'Or, when I'll spend a couple of hours performing the songs I love and sharing the special ones that changed my life.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbRYdLR7EZEQ7zwtTYwGbX2yQ4_ZmMCnUZPdd2gVpTDLP6XaTsv735kP59GayAsGV99Id5lnosjnB7qw9vIOLiGDbG2E8nlDS0Av3vGJprzdx24rbvbtqxjQlg8VugJbRdbokwTu15elk/s1600/publicity+poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbRYdLR7EZEQ7zwtTYwGbX2yQ4_ZmMCnUZPdd2gVpTDLP6XaTsv735kP59GayAsGV99Id5lnosjnB7qw9vIOLiGDbG2E8nlDS0Av3vGJprzdx24rbvbtqxjQlg8VugJbRdbokwTu15elk/s640/publicity+poster.jpg" width="425" /></a></div>
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Lisa Forget - In Concert</div>
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Original cast member of Canadian productions of Les Miserables, Napoleon, and Jeanne La Pucelle, Montreal songstress Lisa Forget takes you on a musical journey with selections from the Broadway stage, the Hollywood screen, as well as chart-topping favourites.</div>
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Accompanied by a five-piece ensemble under the direction of Chris Barillaro (Schwartz's: The Musical, Altar Boyz, Guys and Dolls), Lisa is joined by special guests, fellow musical theatre performer, Frayne McCarthy (Les Miserables, Napoleon, Jeanne La Pucelle) and singer/recording artist, Christine Forget (Christine Forget, Love and Other Silly Things).</div>
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On the stage of the Lion d’Or –Montreal’s quintessential cabaret venue – this evening, filled with beautiful ballads, swinging jazzy standards, and Broadway showstoppers, will delight and entertain from the moment the lights go up, until the last curtain falls.</div>
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October 23rd, 2012 - 8pm</div>
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1676, rue Ontario Est (corner Papineau)</div>
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Montréal H2L 1S7</div>
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Metro: Papineau</div>
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<a href="http://www.cabaretliondor.com/">www.cabaretliondor.com</a></div>
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Tickets are 25$ (plus $1.95 service charge) and available online at <a href="http://www.lavitrine.com/activite/Lisa_Forget">http://www.lavitrine.com/activite/Lisa_Forget</a></div>
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or contact me by leaving a message in the comments section</div>
Lisa Forgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05403945102147940070noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5826519111103951524.post-23747885219146593572012-08-09T12:31:00.003-04:002012-08-09T12:33:39.079-04:00What is she doing now??<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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With my Cirque du Soliel project wrapped up for the summer, I now have some time to be doing things I'd put on that virtual back burner.<br />
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First off, enjoying some time with my daughters and my husband. I'm blessed. They keep me entertained, exasperated but feeling oh, so alive!<br />
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I'm having a blast posting the<a href="http://www.bleedinginkanthology.wordpress.com/" target="_blank"> Bleeding Ink Author Spotlights</a>, as one of the three Ink Babes. I encourage you to check out today's spotlight as well as the past spotlights. There's a new author spotlight every three days right through to September 5th. If you post a comment (even just a hello or word of encouragement) you have a chance to win a copy of the anthology, <a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/178855" target="_blank">Bleeding Ink - A Collection of Dark Tales.</a> <br />
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We Ink Babes are grinning deliciously from ear to ear about the reviews coming in at Smashwords about this collection. "...creepy and wonderfully dark." "A must read!" <br />
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On August 2nd, Tammy Crosby and I (2 of the 3 Ink Babes) did a internet-radio interview with Jay Faulkner, on <a href="http://www.followingthenerd.com/" target="_blank">Following the Nerd Radio</a> all about Bleeding Ink. Broadcast live from Co. Down, Ireland, this was a so much fun for me personally, as those of you who know me understand how much I love the Irish people (as they are such an important part of my life here in Montreal), the idea that my feet have never touched Irish soil, yet my voice resonated in the cyber air above it, sent a thrill right through me, I'm sure I babbled like a nervous fool! LOL! A podcast of the interview should be posted sometime soon. I haven't heard it yet, but look forward to it.<br />
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I'm working on the last draft of my novel, <strong><em>Bound,</em></strong> which I plan to submit to my publishers, <a href="http://www.museituppublishing.com/" target="_blank">MuseItUp</a>, in the fall. (where you'll find my short-stories, <em>Deathly Quiet,</em> and <em>Leapling</em>) <br />
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And then there's the big project I'm working on - <strong><em>Lisa Forget - In Concert. </em></strong>It's something I've been wanting to do for so long. I've taken the first steps by securing musicians, 2 guest artists and contacting the venue. I'm looking at late-October. Plans will be solidified by this time next week. I'll be sure to let you all know, here, and on other social networks. <br />
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Perhaps you might like to join me for what I promise will be a night filled with beautiful music.<br />
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Before I sign off, this would probably be a good time to mention that on <strong>September 15th</strong>, I will be inducted in the <strong><em>Pointe St-Charles Hall of Recognition</em></strong> for my involvement with the community. I'm absolutely delighted by this honour taking place at the YMCA Pointe St-Charles. Tickets are $35 with funds going to scholarships awarded at the event. Four other people/organizations - including Aces Footfall - will be inducted as well. If you're interested in attending, just let me know and I will pass your ticket purchase request to the committee.<br />
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I wish you all a wonderful day and rest of the week.<br />
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May your muses inspire....<br />
<br />
Lisa<br />
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<br />Lisa Forgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05403945102147940070noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5826519111103951524.post-6266770099188257242012-08-04T07:51:00.000-04:002012-08-04T07:51:37.035-04:00The Prince and the Pauper TONIGHT!<div style="padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
Good Morning my Blogger Buddies!</div>
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Le Prince et Le Pauvre is a show I was introduced to while working on The Great American Trailer Park Musical. </div>
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I had the wonderful opportunity to perform one of the songs from the show at an event hosted by <a href="http://www.cetm.ca/" target="_blank">CETM (The Centre for Education and Theatre in Montreal)</a> the organisation behind <a href="http://www.montrealnextwave.com/" target="_blank">The Next Wave Festival</a></div>
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A presentation of this delightful musical is being presented tonight at L'espace Libre at 8:15pm, as part of the festival's August line-up. </div>
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I'm posting this very nice review the show got in New York City, sent to me yesterday by my dear friend, CETM's very own director/producer/performer Stephen Pietrantoni. </div>
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To obtain more information on Le Prince et Le Pauvre/The Prince and the Pauper, click <a href="http://rtstesting.info/the-prince-and-the-pauper/" target="_blank">HERE</a></div>
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Be sure to check the <a href="http://www.montrealnextwave.com/" target="_blank">Next Wave Festival link</a> for their full August theatre schedule.</div>
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">New York City Review by Oscar E. Moore</span></strong></div>
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<em>Based on Mark Twain’s story of switched identities and performed in French with simultaneous English translations of dialogue and songs projected on a Samsung monitor, Le Prince et Le Paurve (The Prince and the Pauper) is a charming, tuneful and most satisfying surprise at the Midtown International Fringe Festival.</em></div>
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<em>A beautiful yet simple production, an Oliver! meets Les Miz - Le Prince et Le Pauvre boasts an incredibly melodic score played to the hilt by an on stage orchestra of five which includes Piano (David Terriault), Violin (Vincent Kim), Clarinet (Emilie Chamberland), Keyboard-percussion (Chris Barillaro) and by favorite French horn (Fanny Ladouceur).</em></div>
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<em>The music, orchestrations and original stage direction by Julien Salvia are quite amazing for this low budget production that unfortunately played a mere three performances at the June Havoc Theatre as part of the Festival.</em></div>
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<em>Le Prince et Le Pauvre has also been performed in Paris where it won the prestigious “Marius Award” for Best “family-oriented” Musical 2008 and also at the Centre for Education and Theatre in Montreal. A very well deserved award, I might add.</em></div>
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<em>The English adaptation by Michael Conley is based on the book and lyrics by Ludovic-Alexandre Vidal which adheres closely to the original text by Twain hitting all the major plot points in this two hour musical that has an excellent ensemble.</em></div>
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<em>London. 1549. St. George’s Day. Henry VIII’s son Edward (Emilie Allard) accidentally meets Tom Canty (Caroline Mailhot) a poor beggar who has an abusive father (Simon Chausse) and a loving mother (Nathalie Niesing). It’s incredible how much the two young ladies look like one another playing the two young men and both singing magnificently and believably becoming the two who want to discover how the other lives.</em></div>
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<em>There is the villain of the piece, Lord Hertford (Serge Turcotte) Edward’s uncle who hopes to make a puppet of the boy once he becomes King having himself made guardian of the young boy. His silly lackey, Gustave (Alexandre Leveille) manages to be both stupid and sincere, turning in an almost show stealing performance. </em></div>
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<em>Richard Nicolas Villeneuve as Miles Hendon is searching for his long lost love Edith (Genevieve Bastien) who wields a wicked rolling pin saving the day. He meets and befriends Edward posing as the beggar boy delivering his songs in a robust tenor while Ms. Bastien adds some flirty humor to the proceedings.</em></div>
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<em>It was a brilliant move to cast two ladies in the leads as they are terrific and believable with strong voices. It was wonderful to be able to care what happens to them, despite the translations sometimes going haywire. It was an easy pleasure to follow the story line enacted by an expert cast with a score that could one day become a classic</em>.</div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Source: </span><a href="http://oscaremoore.com/le-prince-et-le-pauvre-%e2%80%93-francecanadaunited-states-co-production-at-mitf"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">http://oscaremoore.com/le-prince-et-le-pauvre-%e2%80%93-francecanadaunited-states-co-production-at-mitf</span></a></div>
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I encourage you to support Montreal theatre. We have an ocean of bilingual talent in this corner of the world, let's get out there and see it!</div>
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Save me a seat, will ya??</div>
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Later,</div>
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Lisa</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">USA performance/marketing/other credits</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.midtownfestival.org/" style="background-color: #f7f7f7; color: #5f5f5f; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: x-small;">www.MidtownFestival.org</span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Katie Rosin</span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" target="_blank"><span style="color: #0066cc; font-size: x-small;">917-438-9223</span></a><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">For information, tickets, discounts and more text KAMPFIRE to 99222.</span><a href="http://kampfirefilmspr.com/" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: x-small;">kampfirefilmspr.com</span></a><br />
<a href="http://facebook.com/KampfirePR" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: x-small;">facebook.com/KampfirePR</span></a><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">KampFIRE up your audiences!<br /><br />nytheatre cast podcast: </span><a href="http://www.nytheatrecast.com/pcast/nythpod320.mp3" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: x-small;">http://www.nytheatrecast.com/pcast/nythpod320.mp3</span></a><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: x-small;">Media Kits:</span><a href="http://bit.ly/KampfireMediaKits" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: x-small;">http://bit.ly/KampfireMediaKits</span></a><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></b><span style="font-size: x-small;">(please note new address) </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Photos:</span><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/kampfirefilms" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: x-small;">picasaweb.google.com/kampfirefilms</span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Kampfire Calendar</span></div>
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<b style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.google.com/calendar/embed?src=p8q2b51cr602lp9icac5oj4knc%40group.calendar.google.com&ctz=America/New_York" style="color: #1155cc; font-weight: normal;" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: x-small;">https://www.google.com/calendar/embed?src=p8q2b51cr602lp9icac5oj4knc%40group.calendar.google.com&ctz=America/New_York</span></a><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></b></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>Lisa Forgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05403945102147940070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5826519111103951524.post-51805236644632697842012-07-22T12:13:00.001-04:002012-07-22T19:03:37.084-04:00Take a Sunday Cyber Stroll to Bleeding Ink...<br />
Hey my Blog Peeps,<br />
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Just wanted to let you know that we Ink Babes are doing an Author Spotlight from now until the end of summer at<a href="http://www.bleedinginkanthology.wordpress.com/" target="_blank"> Bleeding Ink</a>.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJH3sEULMW0pFXiGKBXo5ndVqBA76BPf3WjK2CNNjK6ASlSZt3BkSDTzjUA011JlsIrfYSMRTO-wz7LmZkc6hRsgMhffX44ZW0Q9M5v3y7Js5vruuY7-rfu39ew5PEitBoNdEZ1XgMlbw/s1600/bloodychairspotlight11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJH3sEULMW0pFXiGKBXo5ndVqBA76BPf3WjK2CNNjK6ASlSZt3BkSDTzjUA011JlsIrfYSMRTO-wz7LmZkc6hRsgMhffX44ZW0Q9M5v3y7Js5vruuY7-rfu39ew5PEitBoNdEZ1XgMlbw/s1600/bloodychairspotlight11.jpg" /></a></div>
We invite you to stop by and meet some of the contributing authors of our collection of dark tales. Leave a comment for a chance to win a copy of the anthology.<br />
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It's a beautiful day, isn't it?<br />
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I spent the morning at Parc de la Cite here on the South Shore of Monteal, where I cheered on my sister Christine as she ran the 5K in the Dix30 run. At 28 mins and change, she beat her own time by3 minutes!! Proud of you sister-mine!<br />
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Hope you're all enjoying time with family and friend on this glorious Sunday. I'm just about jump into the pool. See you later!<br />
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Ever Yours,<br />
Lisa<br />
(for The Ink Babes)Lisa Forgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05403945102147940070noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5826519111103951524.post-77899670701932682002012-07-10T15:53:00.000-04:002012-07-10T15:53:03.591-04:00Bleeding Ink....Available now!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNREQkFGxeQepHjt6TYwq4x1_6XIzUIZqOZLIk8oMf5VNYUiae78ZMTpfhj61BpTWXT-p9V5_nKqoEzoa-Bla7NMrlCLscyVvgeeFBiGIqKjqK5ce2S8QxPu8P7bXhjwRtCgnUpM5ztAQ/s1600/BLEEDING_INK_COVER_ARTjpg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNREQkFGxeQepHjt6TYwq4x1_6XIzUIZqOZLIk8oMf5VNYUiae78ZMTpfhj61BpTWXT-p9V5_nKqoEzoa-Bla7NMrlCLscyVvgeeFBiGIqKjqK5ce2S8QxPu8P7bXhjwRtCgnUpM5ztAQ/s1600/BLEEDING_INK_COVER_ARTjpg.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="font-size: x-large;">AVAILABLE NOW!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">60 Dark Tales penned by 40 authors</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Including</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">the following tales</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">written by Lisa Forget:</span> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Blood and Ecstasy</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">For the Love of Grace</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Friday's Child is Doomed to Misfortune</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Green with Envy</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Initiation</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Next of Kin</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Old Man Winter</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Your Writer's Soul Cannot Resist</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Purchase your e-copy for $1.99 </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">at </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">www.smashwords.com</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">(turn off "adult filter" to search for and view Bleeding Ink) </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>Lisa Forgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05403945102147940070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5826519111103951524.post-73898956212593069452012-07-05T12:00:00.000-04:002012-07-05T12:00:01.719-04:00Bleeding Ink - A Collection of Dark Tales PUBLISHED TODAY!!!<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Hear Ye! Hear Ye!</span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Ink Babes Press Announces</span></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">the release of</span></span></b><b style="background-color: white; color: black;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></b><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<span style="background: white;"><br /></span> </div>
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<br /></div>
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This compilation of paranormal, supernatural, dark and twisted works will have you looking over your shoulder and sleeping with the lights on! With over 60 stories from 40 authors and containing short stories and poetry, this book offers something for everyone.</div>
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Edited by the Ink Babes, namely, Pat Hollett, Lisa
Forget, and Tammy Crosby, Bleeding Ink - a Collection fo Dark Tales will thrill
you, confound you, and have you sitting at the edge of your seat with
deliciously dark stories - penned by some of today's most talented and witty
writers, novice and veteran alike - leaving you breathless, in bloody stitches,
or scared half to death! </div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;">Available at Smashwords</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;">www.smashwords.com</span></div>
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(note: As this is rated "Adult Content" you
must deactivate the "Adult Filter" to view in Smashwords)</div>
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<![endif]-->Lisa Forgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05403945102147940070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5826519111103951524.post-28460029398418569382012-07-03T13:17:00.001-04:002012-07-03T13:17:41.035-04:00Where are the Clowns? Send in the Clowns....Gosh, I miss chatting with friends and keeping up-to-date with everyone on
Facebook and Twitter and here on my blog but a few things have kept me from my normal
routine...namely....<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_ZHfyL8j97386YynqKWO49RHHR2vrQSyMeC3dCf7bEw-wk4ZDuENkC2nySMUdUiEPQ2P9UkHheWdBl8Fwdj9j-ijyhTdlFgBu-g_wZ44ryL3LOVIelYG1q9uzhPbrU7jYkvbB5s__rjM/s1600/cirque-logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="146" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_ZHfyL8j97386YynqKWO49RHHR2vrQSyMeC3dCf7bEw-wk4ZDuENkC2nySMUdUiEPQ2P9UkHheWdBl8Fwdj9j-ijyhTdlFgBu-g_wZ44ryL3LOVIelYG1q9uzhPbrU7jYkvbB5s__rjM/s200/cirque-logo.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I've been under contract with the <b>Cirque du Soleil's</b>
Logistic Department, dividing my time working on various Merchandising
and Costume projects, while brushing shoulders with clowns and other performers in the hallways! It was supposed to be for 6 weeks. I've been there 7 wonderfully exciting months!<br />
<br />
When I'm not working or doing Mom Things (like chauffeuring & refereeing sibling squabbles) I'm collaborating on <b><a href="http://www.bleedinginkanthology.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Bleeding Ink - a Collection of Dark Tales</a></b> anthology with two friends and fellow <a href="http://www.bleedinginkanthology.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">InkBabes</a>, Pat Hollett & Tammy Crosby. The editing is completed, now we're preparing the anthology for publication and distribution. Release date to follow.<br />
<br />
<b>"Bound"</b> Those
who beta read my full-length manuscript have asked me to stop procrastinating and get it published. So, I'm
working on it - and by that I mean doing the last edits...finally!<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.sliceofvegas.ca/" target="_blank"><b>One Night with You - a tribute to Elvis Presley</b></a><b>,</b>
is another project keeping me busy.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV6FKWaExVtE0MU0UkC2kul4O10bSYLCu15CGwkZ2aiDY_IZMqWW2UoFUuxfKr9G0Tk5e60JG3VERkbZoVid6ZcO3FwfeOjSOlWIV_sarN9NV0a5dmZQUpzmWB31_6MN-slcMe7s5lRTU/s1600/554609_458886180803671_827412663_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV6FKWaExVtE0MU0UkC2kul4O10bSYLCu15CGwkZ2aiDY_IZMqWW2UoFUuxfKr9G0Tk5e60JG3VERkbZoVid6ZcO3FwfeOjSOlWIV_sarN9NV0a5dmZQUpzmWB31_6MN-slcMe7s5lRTU/s320/554609_458886180803671_827412663_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
With an ensemble of 11 musicians
including "Elvis", scheduling rehearsals and performances can be tricky,
but worth all the effort. We just played Calistoga Bar and Grill and had a blast! Looks like we'll be taking the show on the road, heading West soon.<br />
<br />
Authors I've recently read:<br />
Kelley Armstrong, Jim Butcher, Charlaine Harris, Maggie Shayne, Christine Feehan, Christina Dodd<br />
<br />
I picked up the Twilight Saga again.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF6_tyQLxuT70-z8wF8fnPS-hllgRkvkB7TKnUxnbYEYkgVzGl2G6svJVgkB3QYbwShM8c_JK1SPKgxJ6sAyvsKdmW-brQw0ae6C2paX7XUlr9d8g4Mx0dS5p1vmPUqvto_dDwb-N0Tx4/s1600/twilight.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF6_tyQLxuT70-z8wF8fnPS-hllgRkvkB7TKnUxnbYEYkgVzGl2G6svJVgkB3QYbwShM8c_JK1SPKgxJ6sAyvsKdmW-brQw0ae6C2paX7XUlr9d8g4Mx0dS5p1vmPUqvto_dDwb-N0Tx4/s200/twilight.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
Guilty pleasure or light summer
reading, call it what you will. All I know is I find it as entertaining
(and addictive) as the first time! Edward Cullen....*sigh* LOL!<br />
<br />
Books I can't wait to get my hands on:<br />
Thirteen by Kelley Armstrong<br />
Iced by Karen Marie Moning<br />
<br />
That's about all the news in my corner of the world - for now.<br />
<br />
When we release our anthology, I plan on inviting some of the contributing authors to have a chat.<br />
<br />
May your muse continue to inspire great things.....<br />
<br />
Yours,<br />
LisaLisa Forgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05403945102147940070noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5826519111103951524.post-88107985360255462162012-02-24T06:00:00.001-05:002012-02-24T06:00:13.111-05:00LEAPLING - Release TODAY!<div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Thrilled!</span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9InmObgC65rjMjWPjGKmMsxd0f7AnA0XLgFl_Vm6hUGv-AHNjT4ys6dW_eePheJ8lxS_v-t-z8UdB772F8s-4ZRnZg-lwPYF1Kzjc_gu0q07Bq3udSHbb5yLh9DQ6difJ3OX0gbVaoC8/s1600/leapling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9InmObgC65rjMjWPjGKmMsxd0f7AnA0XLgFl_Vm6hUGv-AHNjT4ys6dW_eePheJ8lxS_v-t-z8UdB772F8s-4ZRnZg-lwPYF1Kzjc_gu0q07Bq3udSHbb5yLh9DQ6difJ3OX0gbVaoC8/s320/leapling.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div>That's how I feel about today's release of LEAPLING, my Young Adult Fantasy (with a side of Sci-Fi and a dash of romance) short-story.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Edited by Christine I Speakman and Ellee Braun, with cover-art by C.K. Volnek, this is my second work published with Canadian publishing company, MuseItUp.</div><div><br />
</div><div>February 29th is five days away, but you can find out how important the date is to Leapling, Evey Jones, by clicking <a href="http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/index.php?page=shop.product_details&flypage=flypage.tpl&product_id=372&category_id=64&option=com_virtuemart&Itemid=1" target="_blank">here</a> My publisher, Lea Schizas, is offering a special release-week special!</div><div><br />
</div><div>Oh, by the way...</div><div><br />
</div><div>Sometimes, when receiving submissions, we receive the strangest cover letters. You might like to visit the <a href="http://bleedinginkanthology.wordpress.com/2012/02/24/dear-inkbabes/#comment-147" target="_blank">Bleeding Ink</a> site where we've posted an example of one.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Lisa</div><div><br />
</div>Lisa Forgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05403945102147940070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5826519111103951524.post-26926302964447293292012-02-01T13:41:00.003-05:002012-02-01T13:54:25.933-05:00LEAPLING being released this month!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzNmWq645m5WsZz8eUROs_MNFmxmGMLA7ggpZj5zXPUd9uJH_qAgW2rd8OC7VCyZfrtZ_Wsv-vHT4ophVVP5mwkrNhNSLQd19Jijczx9dHxMcKHEFUQEg7zDDzRFfmiCnea0JfPn6Czfw/s1600/Leapling_cover%5B2%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzNmWq645m5WsZz8eUROs_MNFmxmGMLA7ggpZj5zXPUd9uJH_qAgW2rd8OC7VCyZfrtZ_Wsv-vHT4ophVVP5mwkrNhNSLQd19Jijczx9dHxMcKHEFUQEg7zDDzRFfmiCnea0JfPn6Czfw/s320/Leapling_cover%5B2%5D.JPG" width="213px" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><a href="about:blank" name="OLE_LINK2"></a><a href="about:blank" name="OLE_LINK1"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-CA"><strong><em><span style="color: #bf9000; font-size: large;">Every Leap Year, I celebrate my real birthday. </span></em></strong></span></span></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-CA"><strong><em><span style="color: #bf9000; font-size: large;">Every time, it’s a near-death experience. </span></em></strong></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-CA"><strong><em><span style="color: #bf9000; font-size: large;">Apparently, it’s my destiny. </span></em></strong></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-CA"><strong><em><span style="color: #bf9000; font-size: large;">Destiny sucks.</span></em></strong></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">I'm thrilled to show off the gorgeous cover of my YA story LEAPLING - being released this month at </span><a href="http://www.museituppublishing.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #f1c232;">MuseItUp Publishing</span></a><span style="color: #cccccc;"><span style="color: #f1c232;"> -</span> </span></span></span></span><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">created by the talented </span><a href="http://museituppublishingcovers.blogspot.com/2012/01/leapling-by-lisa-forget.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #f1c232;">C.K. Volnek</span></a><span style="color: #f1c232;">.</span></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-CA" style="color: #cccccc; font-size: 13.5pt;">I had the pleasure of working again with </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Content Editor Christine I. Speakman </span></span></span><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-CA" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">and Line Editor Ellee Braun.</span></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-CA" style="color: #cccccc; font-size: 13.5pt;"><strong>Here's the blurb:</strong></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-CA" style="color: #cccccc; font-size: 13.5pt;">Fifteen-year-old Evey Jones is a Leapling — born on the leap day in a leap year. As she approaches her sixteenth birthday, she fills her journal with the strange and deadly things that have happened to her every February 29<sup>th</sup>, including her encounter with a Shadow, a terrifying creature haunting her dreams since she was a little girl. As she faces her fears, Evey finally finds out why she’s been plagued with near-death experiences every Leap Year, and discovers the role she's expected to play when an alien race puts into action their plan for the birth of a whole new world on Earth — that is, if she’ll except her destiny and Adam, the alien prince who comes along with the deal.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><br />
Here's an Excerpt:</div><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-CA" style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"></span></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span lang="EN-CA">...My mind began to slip into blackness.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-CA">I am about to die. </span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span lang="EN-CA">From a distance, I heard a roar. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span lang="EN-CA">My attackers must have heard it, as well, because my body stilled. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span lang="EN-CA">Then my mind cleared, and silence replaced the angry whispers filling my head. Pain no longer gripped me. My body relaxed. I floated on calm waters. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span lang="EN-CA">I’d been rescued. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span lang="EN-CA">When I opened my eyes, a brilliant burst of colors reflected in the mirror on the far wall, blinding me. I blinked, and two figures came into focus. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span lang="EN-CA">The first was me. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span lang="EN-CA">The second was a winged creature cradling me in its arms, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span lang="EN-CA">murmuring something unintelligible in soothing, melodic tones.</span></div><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><em>LEAPLING</em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">by Lisa Forget</span><br />
Available at MuseItUp Publishing February 2012<br />
<br />
Also Available at MuseItUp, Amazon, Kobo, Smashwords and other online booksellers:<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>DEATHLY QUIET</em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em></em></span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>Thank you to everyone's words of encouragment! </strong></em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>They mean the world to me!!</strong></em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>Lisa</strong></em></div><span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: #cccccc;"></span></div>Lisa Forgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05403945102147940070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5826519111103951524.post-27922224966736762502012-01-20T12:13:00.002-05:002012-01-20T12:23:53.655-05:00What Are You Reading?I love books. The smell of them, the feel of them in my hands as I lose myself in their contents... I sleep next to a pile teetering on my bedside table.<br />
<br />
I've also grown attached to my Kobo (eternally grateful Christy!). The e-reader offers me hours, days, months of reading pleasure all tucked away in its tiny, portable electronic body.<br />
<br />
At the moment I'm reading submissions to our dark fiction collection - <a href="http://bleedinginkanthology.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Bleeding Ink</a> - and loving it! There are loads of talented writers out there with wonderfully creative imaginations. Our "inbox" at InkBabes is like a box of assorted chocolate, every bite a delicious surprise! (Keep them coming!) <br />
<br />
Now, about those stories I'm addicted to...<br />
<br />
Let's start with <a href="http://www.karenmoning.com/kmm/" target="_blank">Karen Marie Moning's</a> Fever Series. I've read this series at least 5 times. When I'm in the mood to visit Dublin, Ireland, fight the Unseelie and deny my feeling for the Alpha males of all Alpha males - Jericho Barrons, I head to my bookshelf and take out DARKFEVER, BLOODFEVER, FAEFEVER, DREAMFEVER and SHADOWFEVER and binge! Dreamworks Studio recently picked up the series so I look forward to seeing this world come to life.<br />
<br />
Then there's The Sookie Stackhouse Series by <a href="http://charlaineharris.com/" target="_blank">Charlaine Harris</a>. If you don't already know, it inspired HBO's True Blood. I've devoured this series several times as well. Book number 4 is beginning to fall apart. It's Eric Northman all the way for me, ladies!<br />
<br />
Now slide your eyes up the map of North America....right up to Ontario, Canada. That's where you'll find one of my favourite writers, <a href="http://www.kelleyarmstrong.com/" target="_blank">Kelley Armstrong</a> - author of the Otherworld, Dark Powers, Darkness Rising & Nadia Stafford Series, and coming soon - Omen & Shadows and The Blackwell Pages. I love her writing style and the woman amazes me! She's a true supporter of aspiring writers and so very generous with her fans. <br />
<br />
I can pick up any book from any one of the above mentioned authors and I"m guaranteed to be entertained and taken on a thrill ride!<br />
<br />
Others author who lure me into their worlds:<br />
J.R. Ward,Larissa Ione, Diana Gabaldon, Kate Morton, Jane Austen.....and a new fav <a href="http://www.jim-butcher.com/" target="_blank">Jim Butcher</a> who writes The Dresden Files.<br />
<br />
Books I've read recently:<br />
Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children <br />
The Secret Life of Bees<br />
The Fever Series (again...)<br />
Book 1, 2 & 3 of the Dresden Files<br />
Envy<br />
Dracula<br />
Villette<br />
Spellbound<br />
<br />
What have you read recently? What do you recommend to other avid readers?<br />
<br />
In my own little corner of the world, I'm working with my fabulous editor, Christine Speakman, on LEAPLING, my Young Adult short story coming out next month at MuseItUp Publishing.<br />
<br />
By the way, if you haven't read my dark fiction short story <a href="https://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/index.php?page=shop.product_details&flypage=flypage-ask.tpl&product_id=210&category_id=3&option=com_virtuemart&Itemid=1" target="_blank">Deathly Quiet</a> you can purchase an ecopy at MuseItUp Publishing, Amazon, Kobo, Smashwords, and many other ebook retailers! If you purchase it today (or until January 25th ) at<a href="http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/index.php?page=shop.browse&category_id=3&option=com_virtuemart&Itemid=1&vmcchk=1&Itemid=1" target="_blank"> MuseItUp</a> - you'll get a discount of 25%! <br />
<br />
While you're there check out all the other great short stories, novellas and full length novels.<br />
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Well, it's time to get back to my journal, where I'm working on little darklings for Bleeding Ink......<br />
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May your Muse inspire you!<br />
Lisa<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div>Lisa Forgethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05403945102147940070noreply@blogger.com0