Once there was a girl who had a rainbow heart.
It called to the sunrise, lavender and soft rose birthing a new day.
It soared in the shocking blue of a clear summer sky.
It drifted with the cirrus and the cumulus and roared with the steel grey storm clouds.
It remembered whirling snowflakes and floating mist, heavy raindrops and gentle breezes.
It danced as low mellow light fell through branches and turned fallen beech leaves into rivers of molten copper.
When the sun gilded the horizon with gold, it sang.
It inhaled the sunset, the deep reds and oranges lasting only a few moments before the cloak of twilight hid them away.
It slumbered beneath the indigo night and dreamt of stars.
Wouldn’t you like one? A heart like hers?
So… it’s 2015! Happy New Year! It’s already shaping up to be an exciting one and we’re still only in January! One of the most exciting things for me is the publication of my first novel, coming out in paperback on 14th February.
Called ‘Dreaming The Moon’, it’s a fantasy story set in Cornwall (a land of mystery and magic itself) where Robyn, an ordinary girl haunted by strange dreams, discovers that not only is there another hidden, magical world linked to our own, but that the barrier between the two is failing fast and she is the key to restoring it and preventing the forces of darkness from overrunning both realms. With everyone in danger and everything she loves at risk, can she and her friends outwit the malevolent creatures sent to stop them and fix the shield before all is lost?
Here’s a taste:
By the time Robyn fell into bed that night it was past midnight, and she was exhausted. She curled up under the duvet and dropped into a deep sleep.
It was dark – intensely, terrifyingly dark. The barest sliver of a new moon illuminated a silver thread of sea in the distance, but where she stood the blackness was total and heavily oppressive. Just moving through it was like walking through treacle. She stumbled forward, desperately trying to see something, anything. A branch caught her arm, making her jump, and she stumbled again, feeling her way but not seeming to move anywhere. Eventually she stopped and looked around again, straining her eyes to pick out something familiar, some outline or shape. But she could see nothing except for the narrow ribbon of sea far ahead of her, hear nothing except her own ragged breath. Everything around her was perfectly and absolutely still. She tried again to move, slowly easing her way toward the silvered water, concentrating hard so as not to lose her footing in the inky darkness. And despite the silence, the stillness, the sense of isolation, she was acutely aware that someone or something was watching her.