Book Review ~ ‘The Art of Christmas’ by Jane Lovering.

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The Art of Christmas by Jane Lovering
Genres: Romance, Festive, Short
Release Date: 13th November 2015
Publisher: Choc Lit UK

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SYNOPSIS

What if the memories of Christmas past were getting in the way of Christmas future?

It’s been nearly two years since Harriet lost Jonno, but she’s finally decided that it’s time to celebrate Christmas again.

Then she finds a stash of graphic novels belonging to her comic book-loving husband in the attic, and suddenly her world is turned upside down once more.

With the help of eccentric comic book dealer Kell Foxton, she discovers that the comics collected by Jonno are not only extremely valuable, but also hold the key to his secret life – a life that throws Harriet’s entire marriage and every memory she has of her husband into question.

As Harriet grows closer to Kell, she begins to feel like she could learn to love Christmas again – but first, she needs to know the truth.

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Book Review ~ ‘The Art of Christmas’ by Jane Lovering ~ 5 Stars!

How wonderfully gorgeous, romantic and festive. The perfect evening read as the nights get darker and colder, ‘The Art of Christmas’ will give you that feel-good, snuggly feeling.

Jane Lovering always delivers, no matter the story, always giving a story brimming with tension, romance, and fun. ‘The Art of Christmas’ is no exception, and I fell straight into Harriet’s world, feeling her loneliess as if it were my own, and understanding so well the desperation to escape into a fictional world, and use the characters as inspiration for how to continue in your own life. I loved seeing her grow throughout this novella, and watching her become stronger, more stable and more accepting of the idea of a future.

Kell was the kind of hero that I fell for on first description. Doctor Who t-shirt and owner of a graphic novels store? “Please,” I begged my kindle, “Please be amazing and wonderful!” And boy was he! With a good heart which he wears on his sleeve, a swoonworthy devotion to his pawed pet ‘Frodo’ and a geeky obsession with all things comic books, he made for a brilliant character who came in and restarted Harriet’s life in a flash.

With hidden secrets, and treasured memories at risk, and Christmas just around the corner, it is down to Kell to help Harriet accept the past, live in the present, and wish for the future.

5 Stars!

*Review copy kindly provided by the publisher through NetGalley in exchange for an honest review*


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~ Amazon UK ~ Amazon US ~


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‘A New Life’ by Sorcha O’Dowd ~ A J.A.Mes Press ‘Rebirth’ Anthology Submission.

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A New Life
by Sorcha O’Dowd

 

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My submission for #J.A.MesPress ‘Rebirth’ Anthology

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 Title: A New Life
Word Count: 983
Author: Sorcha O’Dowd
Book: Yes

The road was rocky, causing the pony to struggle over the cobbles, its jerking movements leaving Maria and the driver bouncing up and down on the trap. She held a hand to her head, making sure the hat pin was doing its job of securing her hat in place.

It was growing dark when they finally reached the main square, a lone light shone from the single lamp post that stood in the far corner by the baker’s.

The small village of Tucker’s Prior had changed little in four years. Where London had been overtaken by sights of war; news sellers on every corner holding papers aloft, with a new figure captioned, “10,000 CASUALTIES IN FIRST SURGE”, Tucker’s Prior showed no such changes. The grocer’s stood where it always had, the only difference from 1913 being the faded notice in the window; the one that was handed out at the beginning of the war which explained the rations allowance.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drop you somewhere nearer home, Ma’am?” the driver asked her, looking cautiously around at their dark surroundings before offering his hand to help her down.

“No, thank you.” Maria replied with a soft smile as she hefted her bag from the back of the trap. “I’m near home.”

He nodded, although still unsure. “You take care of yourself Ma’am.”

Holding her bag in one hand she watched the driver give one more concerned look around before turning and urging the pony back along the cobbles. She smiled sadly as he rounded the corner, the retreating trap signalling the end of her journey.

After taking a moment to deliberate, she let her feet take her away from the path leading home. She guiltily thought of her mother, most likely in her rocking chair waiting to welcome her eldest daughter home. Maria pushed the guilt away, knowing her Mother would understand if she knew her plan.

But, would he want to see her? Would he still think her as selfish as he once did?

She could feel the heavy carpet of her bag brushing against her skirts as she walked. Reaching a stile she hoisted the offending hem and stepped over, trying to avoid covering the bottom of her skirt with the slimy mud that was quickly coating her boots.

She felt a quick smirk grow on her lips.

“Welcome back to the country,” she murmured.

But despite her bravado, her limbs felt weighted with her every step, as though her body was trying to dissuade her traitorous heart as it led her onwards. It wasn’t until she turned the corner, spotting a light at the end of the road that her confidence waned.

It was the light that should have told her she was home, that she was safe, that she wasn’t alone.

Instead it gave her a rush of memories, memories buried in desperation by a broken hearted girl.

She forced herself to walk on; trying desperately to push their last meeting from her mind, but his heated words flowed over her, cracking her heart a little more with every remembered word.

“I need to help. I refuse to stay here in this tiny village doing nothing! I have to go.”

“No Maria, you’re not going off for your country. You are going off to escape. You just needed any excuse to escape from the fact that I’m in love with you.”

She pushed the tears away that were threatening to flow, and approached the farmhouse. The house was in darkness, unsurprising as it was past midnight, and when Maria lifted her hand to knock on the door she hesitated, suddenly unsure. Memories of Sarah Darling kissing him as his platoon left for the front flashed through her mind, and she blanched.

“What was I thinking?” she thought desperately. “He wouldn’t still be waiting for me.”

Suddenly a light from her right caught her attention and she turned curiously, seeing a thin strip of dull light spilling from the barn door which had swung open.

She moved without thinking, heading straight towards it before her courage failed her.

Her heart stopped as she peered around the corner.

He was there.

Unlike the village which remained frozen in a previous life, time and the war had changed him. His once dark hair, was now speckled with grey strands, despite him being not yet thirty-five. His shirt sleeves were pushed up above his elbows, displaying the strong muscles built from long hours working on the farm, and the years fighting in the trenches.

It was Robert.

The sound of an animal bleating redirected her attention, and only then did she notice the sheep that lay before him. Its back legs jerked as she gave birth, and enraptured Maria watched Robert as, frowning with concentration, he reached low, hands entering the lamb and pulling hard. A split second and it was over, the lamb slipping from its mother’s womb and flopping onto the straw covered ground.

Not once had he lost a lamb.

“You’re back.”

His words jolted through her and she jumped back, but there was no malice in his face as he moved to standing, leaning heavily on one leg; his limp, a momentum from the trenches, now obvious.

“That was my first lamb this spring,” he said quietly. “Hopefully means the birth of better times to come.”

Her head shot up, and at the soft smile on his face the flood of tears she’d held in for years finally fell.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, as he moved closer looking down at her tenderly; his fingers still messed from the birth stopping a breath away from her cheek.

“No!” He exclaimed, a small light in his weary eyes. “It’s behind us. It’s a new beginning, a new life.”

“Together?” She dared to ask as hot tears dripped down her cheeks.

He nodded.

“Together.”

 

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Spotlight ~ ‘Her Special Day Shoes’ by Michael A. Walker.

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‘Her Special Day Shoes’ by Michael A. Walker.

  Her Special Day Shoes by Michael A. Walker

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Special Dedication

Kristin-Beating Cancer

This eBook is especially dedicated to Kristin, the author’s life-long friend, who is battling Stage 3 HER2 Breast Cancer. 50% of the profits from the sale of this book originally went to Kristin and her family to assist them in their battles ahead. The other 50% went to the National Breast Cancer Foundation, Inc. in Kristin’s name to assist other women like her in their own personal battles.

However, since Kristin’s recent diagnosis, 100% of the profits are going in a National Breast Cancer Foundation fund in her name, which help anyone who might be fighting this dreadful disease.

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SYNOPSIS

Written in the style of an old world fairy tale, “Her Special Day Shoes” is about a young girl from York, England, during the height of the Industrial Revolution, who finds herself orphaned and homeless after her parents are killed in a terrible accident. Refusing to allow herself and her little brother to be taken in by an orphanage, Rachael slaves away along side other children at a textile factory for pennies a day just to keep food in their bellies. Her only escape from her miserable lot in life comes from a pair of shoes displayed in a cobbler shop’s window that she dreams will one day take her far and away.

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Book Review ~ ‘Her Special Day Shoes’ by Michael A. Walker ~ 5 Stars!

I love fairy tales, or anything in the style of a fairy tale, so the blurb of this story describing it as ‘written in the style of an old world fairy tale’, combined with the beautiful dedication for which this book was written, I knew that this little story would pull at my heartstrings and find a special place in my heart.

The story was beautifully created, and the prose flowed so well. Whilst the story was short, I didn’t once think that the story was moving too fast, or seemed unrealistic, it was balanced perfectly with the everyday life of Rachael, a young  orphaned girl who works in a factory using all her wages to feed her younger brother, and the passing of the seasons. It was written to perfection, and never once faltered from the fairy tale style of writing, which gave it an almost magical feel. The way in which author Michael A. Walker portrayed Rachael and gave us insights into her life, had me so invested in her character in such a short space of time. I warmed to her immediately, and loved her pure heart, and devotion to her brother. The yearning for the beautiful pair of shoes displayed in the cobbler’s window just showed how innocent she was, and how such a little thing of seeing the shoes every day gave her strength. It echoes perfectly back to earlier times when happiness could be found in the smallest things, and never taken for granted.

I adored the characters who the author managed to make complex in such a short space of time. They were three-dimensional, and even the grumpy and at first cruel Cobbler had a good heart which did win him over in the end.

This story was a beautiful one that has a beautiful meaning behind it. Be happy with the small things, and always help those who may be less fortunate than yourself, not for the sake of doing something good, but because that good deed may make somebody smile and feel a little stronger.

If you do nothing else today, buy this book and donate towards a wonderful cause and help in the fight against a terrible disease. You won’t regret it!

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behind the story

KRISTIN

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By: Michael A. Walker

Cancer. No other word incites greater fear, evokes more terrifying nightmares, or is more responsible for the reckless and impartial deliverance of pain, misery and death. Cancer doesn’t care what color or ethnicity you are. It doesn’t care how smart you are, or how far you have climbed the social ranks. It cares not for what titles you hold, who your daddy is or how much money you have. It cares little about your age, your religion or how many miles you run each day. It doesn’t care anything about you or your family.

Cancer simply destroys lives.

Like many of you reading this, I have lost loved ones, too many, in fact, to this dreadful disease. I lost my sister to ovarian cancer, my father to leukemia, and my first cousin to a cancer that attacked her entire body. Cancer is a pervasive and effective killer. It constantly invades our everyday lives by its ever-present

occupation, so much so, that eventually it becomes white noise. It’s an infectious maelstrom of malcontent that leaches and saps your will, your defenses, to the point where you feel helpless and become complacent. That is until it becomes personal.

In August of this year it became personal to me, again.

One of my dearest and closest friends, a member of my extended family, someone who I’ve known for more than 20 years, was diagnosed with Stage 3 Invasive Ductal Carcinoma HER2neu-plus breast cancer, an aggressive form of cancer that has invaded her lymph nodes and now threatens her life. There are four stages, or categories, that breast cancer falls into. Stage 3 means that the cancer is no longer localized to the breast and has spread to connecting lymph nodes, the chest wall, or to the chest skin. Stage 3 breast cancer usually requires a combination of chemotherapy and radiation treatments, and surgery to defeat. Like the other 636 women who are diagnosed with breast cancer each day, Kristin and her family were devastated.

Kristin is a multitalented woman, wife, and full time mom. She has a Bachelors of Fine Arts degree from the Santa Fe University of Art and Design, where she learned to perform and sing on stage, and where she honed her seamstress skills. With these skills Kristin has spent countless hours volunteering for her local church, at school functions, and in her community by performing in plays, designing and constructing costumes, and singing in choir and yuletide caroling events. There are few people in this world I love and adore more than Kristin. Her smile lights up the sun, and her infectious laugh radiates joy wherever she goes.

Unfortunately, because of her battle with breast cancer, Kristin can no longer afford to do any of those things that bring so much joy to her life. Now her days are filled with doctor appointments, injections, and prayers. Chemotherapy treatments are designed to attack cells in your body, like cancer cells, that dived rapidly. One side effect to this is that it also attacks other rapid growing cells in your body, like hair, bone marrow, and blood cells. When this happens, white cell counts can drop to dangerous levels, which significantly decreases your body’s ability to defend itself from the constant barrage of germs and diseases that we are exposed to each day. The threat this imposes on Kristin’s body is measured by the near endless supply of hand sanitizers and disinfecting wipes that she keeps nearby. Visitors and her own loving family must don facemasks when they are near her.

Just last week, a day after a round of chemotherapy, Kristin was hospitalized for four days. Her white blood cell count plummeted to .4, with normal levels for the average person starting at 4.0. I saw pictures of her children snuggled up to her in her hospital bed wearing surgical masks, with eyes that held genuine love and concern for their mother. It was enough to make a grown man cry. This man did.

Kristin married my brother, Wesley, a brotherhood born out of irreplaceable memories, love and by choice. I’ve been a part of Wesley’s family, and he mine, since the seventh grade. In high school, he used to turn off my electric typewriter during typing tests, plug my ears with Vaseline in wrestling practice, and embarrass me at school dances by dedicating songs in my name to girls I had a crush on. In my textbooks he would write silly messages and draw pictures of hearts, professing his love for his girlfriends. Sometimes he would just destroy them completely by tearing off the covers, tossing them across the room, or scaring them in such a way that it prevented me from returning them at the end of the year.

He also saved my life.

When I was 19 I lost my mother to a ruptured brain aneurysm that left her in a coma and then lifeless. Weeks later, I lost my grandfather to medical complications that arose from his elderly age, and months after that my wife and children in a heart-crippling divorce. I was a walking dead man, a zombie that lacked the will or desire for life. Wesley saved me from despair. He forced me out of the house and out of my misery. He showed me how to live again, and reintroduced happiness and the want to see my children’s children before I leave this earth.

Together Wesley and Kristin have two children of their own. Logan (13) is a prodigy pianist and all around talented and gifted young man. He plays the piano with the ferocity and confidence of a young lion destined for greatness. Skye (7) embodies everything you would expect from a little girl that carries that name. When the mood strikes her, she can be kind and gentle, with a propensity to beguile the unwary into a sense of calm right before she unleashes her unbridled fury, but mostly she is beautiful.

Recently, I launched my very first self-published eBook, entitled “Her Special Day Shoes.” In it, Rachael, the protagonist, is a young woman who has suffered a great deal in her life. Unlike Kristin, she has her health but little else. Like Kristin, in spite of her terrible lot in life, she forges on, smiling and rising above every obstacle thrown her way, refusing to yield in the face of insurmountable odds. Rachael and Kristin have a lot in common. No better pairing of super heroes could possibly exist.

I was fortunate to have a friend like Wesley during my darkest hour, and now, with your help, I have the opportunity – the honor – of repaying him and his family. As a tribute to Kristin, I re-launched “Her Special Day Shoes” and dedicated it to her. All proceeds from the sale of “Her Special Day Shoes” will go to assist Kristin with her personal battle with breast cancer and to a National Breast Cancer Foundation account in her name – forever.

Cancer is wicked and vile, but not invincible. Cancer can be defeated with willpower, determination, and by the best doctors and chemotherapy money can buy.

For $2.86 you can help make the difference in Kristin’s life, and the lives of the hundreds of thousands of women like her afflicted with this terrible disease each year. That’s less than a grande latté at your favorite coffee house, a 3-pack of disposable razors and less than a gallon of gasoline. As an added bonus, you’ll have a heartwarming and uplifting story to read and share with your family.

I’ve lost too many loved ones to cancer. I don’t want to lose another. You can help by purchasing the book, sharing the video I made for Kristin, or by making a donation to the National Breast Cancer Foundation in her name and asking everyone you know to do the same. Aside from that, your warm thoughts and prayers are always welcomed and immensely appreciated. Thank you.

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Buy now for only $2.86.

All profits go to a National Breast Cancer Foundation fund in Kristin’s name.

~ Amazon UK ~ Amazon US ~

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 tribute

The Author’s Tribute Video for Kristin.

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Important Links

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The National Breast Cancer Foundation’s mission is to save lives by increasing awareness of breast cancer through education and by providing mammograms for those in need. NBCF accomplishes this mission through various initiatives. NBCF programs provide women help for today and hope for tomorrow. NBCF’s Mammography Program currently impacts over 40 states across the country by providing free mammograms to underserved women nationwide through medical facilities within our network. Any money donated to the National Breast Cancer Foundation will go to fund mammograms for women who cannot afford them. Because of the generous donations of both individuals and corporations, we have developed strong partnerships with medical facilities, associations and corporations across the country. We are grateful for their continued efforts in reaching out to save lives every day.

~ Kristin’s National Breast Cancer Foundation page ~

Follow Kristin’s story.

~ Kristin’s Story and her Caring Bridge Page ~

Do you know of anyone who has been affected by breast cancer? Share your story and spread the word.

 

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New Release ~ ‘Tales by the Tree: An Anthology of Holiday Flash Fiction’

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Hello everyone! I have some very exciting news!

Today is the release day of the debut anthology from J.A.Mes Press Publishing Company in which one of my short stories is available.

‘Tales by the Tree’ is a collection of 75 Christmas holiday-themed short stories and flash fiction by a team of 40+ authors, both published and newbies, and it is designed by the wonderful team at Blue Harvest Creative.

All royalties from this project benefit the Mount Rose Elementary School library in Reno, Nevada.

Please do check out this anthology. It is available now on Amazon in both Print and on Kindle (and if I know you in the real vs. virtual world I’ll sign my story for you :P)

My Story is entitled ‘Teething Troubles at Christmas’ and is under the ‘Holiday Humor’ Category.

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Teething Troubles at Christmas ~ A Short Story for ‘A Merry Minion Christmas: Assorted Tales from the Realm of the Dark Fairy Queen.’

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Teething Troubles at Christmas.

Genre: Romantic Comedy         Author: Sorcha O’Dowd         eBook Yes

ONCE UPON A TIME

Scarlett was exhausted. She’d been summoned from one house to another all night, dutifully fulfilling her job of exchanging small milky teeth for a shiny fifty pence piece that barely fit in the pocket of her overall. Honestly, whoever thought that being the Tooth Fairy was a romantic notion was, quite frankly, stupid. It was the least romantic job in the world and the fact that she barely reached thirty centimetres in height and therefore had very little space on her person to put a fifty pence piece was to be honest, more troublesome than you’d think. But in the grand scheme of things that was actually the least of her worries, for the teeth themselves were more often than not a complete burden.

Couldn’t the children at least clean the tooth before they put it eagerly under their pillow? It wasn’t the nicest of sights or the most enjoyable of jobs having to pick up the milky tooth, large enough that she had to hold it with both newly manicured hands, when it was covered in ripped flesh and drying blood.

And she supposed no one thought of her welfare when it came to this job. She saw the other young fairies give her envious glances when she flew from the Fairy Queen’s palace in the evenings ready for a night of work. So many times she’d been tempted to yell at them that it was hardly the most glamorous of jobs, and that having to carry such a large number of fifty pence pieces in the oversized pockets of her tiny work coat meant she had agonising back problems when she finally returned home before sunrise and collapsed into bed.

It was also a real killer on her social life. Whilst everyone else in the Kingdom was out partying at night, she was stuck collecting blood covered teeth. Lovely!

“God I’m tired.” She yawned as she finally returned to her room, her eyes drooping and her lips pouting as sleep called to her. She fought the sensation briefly and focused on unbuttoning her coat, giving a relieved sigh as she stretched her back and felt it realign itself with a satisfying crack.

As she clambered onto her bed, and looked out at the sunrise peeking through her bedroom window, she sighed wearily catching sight of the celebrations going on below in the Palace courtyard.

Whilst she’d been out having to fly around the entire planet in the space of twelve hours, everyone here at the castle was celebrating Christmas.

She watched as the fairies danced down below her, the sounds of joyful music filtering through her open window and she felt jealousy rise up within her.

Funny really. You expect the Christmas Fairy and his little minion elves to be working hard on this day, but people tend to forget that the Tooth Fairy is an all-night-every-night job. There’s no Christmas for her, just like there’s no Easter.

Feeling annoyed at herself for her dull thoughts, Scarlett shook her head and reached up to firmly close her open window, feeling a little more cheerful as she shut the sounds of her fellow fairies out of her bedroom and her mind.

Now, where was that book she had been looking forward to reading before bed?

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Throughout the Fairy realm there was a saying used all too often; ‘Don’t Ever Wake A Sleeping Dragon’. For some reason unbeknown to Scarlett the saying ‘Don’t Ever Wake A Sleeping Tooth Fairy’ hadn’t ever caught on. (She couldn’t fathom why. She’d almost scared a poor servant to death when he’d woken her too soon, and sent him off screaming into the day.)

As this proverb had never been spread throughout the Kingdom, you would think that a fairy would be slightly more alarmed when facing Scarlett’s wrath, screaming and raging at him merely forty-five minutes after she had fallen asleep.

But no.

This fairy was Kyle, and Kyle never looked outwardly alarmed, for that would mean that his annoying (and Scarlett would never admit it, but rather handsome) smirk would have to cease. So instead he merely grinned lazily as Scarlett hovered before him, her face red with fury.

“I had a LONG NIGHT. I was TIRED! TIRED, Kyle! Now, I know that is not something that you would understand seeing as you’ve never done a hard night’s work in your life. But SOME PEOPLE need sleep to function properly.”

“Woah! Chill Scarlett!” Kyle laughed as though the entire situation was a great joke to him, and Scarlett turned away from him in a huff, hating how great he looked when he curved his lips into that gorgeous smile of his. ‘NO Scarlett! Focus.’ She silently scolded herself.

“Well?” She asked, forcing  her voice to remain stiff and punishing as she turned around to face him again, folding her arms crossly. “What was your reason for waking me up at the crack of dawn when I’d been up all night, unlike everyone else in the entire…”

She didn’t see him fly towards her in the space of a second, and only caught up with his movement as his lips quickly dropped to hers and she felt him give her a soft kiss. Soft, but meaningful.

He pulled away as quickly as he’d moved in, and Scarlett opened her mouth to scold him only to find that no words would leave her lips.

“Happy Christmas, Scarlett.” Kyle grinned at her, a twinkle in his eye, and before she could even utter a syllable, he flew and disappeared out the door in a swish of arrogant gracefulness.

“Idiot.” Scarlett finally managed to spit out, even as a shy but bright smile grew on her face, and she literally floated back to bed.

“Best Christmas ever!” She sighed happily as she fell back onto her bed, a content smile on her face as she drifted off to sleep.

THE END

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The New Melody

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Entry for the Dark Fairy Queen Bridal Shower!

Congratulations to Anna and Michael! I wish you every joy and happiness together! Here’s my gift to you.

Title: The New Melody
Author: Sorcha O’Dowd
E-book: Yes*

Her fingers gently caressed the keys of the Piano, the thin layer of dust coating her shaking finger tips as she drew them softly over the smooth keys, careful not to press too hard. She stopped, as her right thumb automatically took its place on Middle C, a movement still so natural. Even after so long.

“Breathe.” She reminded herself silently, before taking a deep shuddering breath.

She pressed lightly and the echoing sound of the long-since tuned Piano reverberated through the dusty, abandoned room.

Heaving a sob, she pulled her hand back quickly, covering her mouth as she waited for the pain of remembrance to slice through her heart.

It didn’t.

She waited another minute.

Still nothing.

It took another minute before she laughed. A laugh of surprise and…was it hope?

Reaching forward again, she placed both hands on the keys and cautiously began to play.

The notes grew stronger as her fingertips flew across the keys, not at all hindered by the years of abstinence. Notes that told her story. The story of the helpless girl who’d fallen madly and naively in love, the pain of her heart being cruelly crushed, and the despair so deep that she’d existed through a layer of numbness.

But then the sharps and flats of G minor stopped suddenly, replaced by a sweet melody in G major that spoke of friendship, loyalty, and an overwhelming love that had fixed her.

She didn’t stop playing as she sensed him enter the room, just closed her eyes, letting the music flow through her, hoping he would understand the meaning of the melody.

He’d fixed her.

Him.

As the notes began to slow, and gradually faded to nothing, she took a moment to revel in the charged stillness of the room. The echoes of the notes rang, disturbing the dust particles which shone like fireflies in the strip of early morning sunlight that beamed through a gap in the thin, dilapidated curtains.

Finally she turned, smiling softly as she saw him hastily wipe at his eyes. Because he’d been through it too.

He’d been hurt by love.

And she’d fixed him.

Just like he had her.

“Ready to go?” She asked quietly, unwilling to disturb the peace in the room with unnecessary words.

Words had never been necessary with them. A look, or a soft touch to the arm spoke more to them than any words ever could.

So she knew what he was asking from the way he walked towards her, his eyes desperate as he reached for her hand, caressing her fingers softly with his thumb.

“Yes.” She replied to his silent question, feeling her eyes blur with tears of happiness.

“I haven’t asked you yet.” He chided, tears of his own now falling even as a smile grew on his face.

“So ask me then.” She teased.

“I don’t have a ring.” He said, his ice blue eyes apologising even as they twinkled.

“Just ask me.”

So he did.

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