Sunday 30 September 2012

Taking a risk

I suppose writing is all about taking risks. You are exposing a part of your soul to the world, and that is a risk in itself! I have decided to put a brief synopsis on my blog page, and I am about to put a taster from Albie. Book Two, Albie's Story is the prequel, rather than the sequel, and that is another risk. Will readers be interested in history of the house, rather than what happens next? (Incidentally Book Three, The Healer, chronicles events 5 years after the first book. Confused? I'll risk it...)
Another risk is that this snippet is actually the epilogue, which is unusual for a taster. It doesn't give anything away, but rather feeds quite nicely (I think, anyway....) into book One. Just a way of trying to incite curiosity. If I gather enough interest, they will have to publish me. Won't they? (Another risk.....?)


Sadie's House, Book Two, Albie's Story.
Epilogue
They have all gone now. It’s been a while since the last one came, and they pushed, and poked, explored and talked. Two men came with talk of pulling me down, and there would be a shopping centre, they said. It’s on a hill, said one, but the other dismissed him and spoke of the position and the catchment. They argued and I grew angry. I wasn’t having any of that and for a moment I found the strength to summon the power and alter the universe. They will not be coming back. This house is not for sale.

This house remains. I know I am decaying, but it is only a matter of time. My doors and windows are boarded up, paintwork is peeling and chipped, floorboards are rotting. Dust and cobwebs lay thickly on every surface; I am sagging, burdened by the weight of age and neglect. My resplendent blue door is now faded, dirty and grey, it’s splintered peeling paint, chips, dents and cracks adding further depressing detail to my plight. The garden has become a jungle, unkempt and uncared for, the foliage is rampant, like unruly children scattered over the landscape, unsupervised. The well is invisible now, hidden behind dense undergrowth that will only thicken with time and age. Only shadows and echoes exist now of what was once here. But I am resolved. There will be no more despair. There will only be hope.

It’s only a matter of time. Eventually she will come. Somehow, someway, she will come, of that I am sure. She will be in pain, and we will help each other to heal. I will know when the time comes.

Until then I will sit and wait for Sadie to come home.

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