Saturday 30 January 2016

Rise of the Raven Webisode 2

Copyright E.I Jennings 2016

Burn Baby Burn…


I soon learned this strange, new world wasn’t that much different to the one nudging against my memory. Men were still fighting over land and honour but with much more disastrous consequences. War. I’d missed two world wars and for the first time I was grateful I’d missed something. Unfortunately, I wasn’t surviving that well. I’d managed to work my way inland as if something was pulling me towards it. The devastation of war was everywhere. Homes were nothing more than rubble but people seemed to knit together and help each other. Somewhere along the way I’d been mistaken for someone who’d lost everything in the final ‘bombing’. I wasn’t exactly sure what that meant but I smiled and nodded at the men.   
It always amazed me how people came together at times of hardship. Although it wasn’t always a good thing. I was skin and bones and hadn’t slept for weeks by the time I was found by these people, which I hadn’t thought possible. It wasn’t a big house, but it was warm and I welcomed it.
“Help yourself to some food on the stove and there’s some clean clothes over there. Mary will be down in a minute to look after you.” I nodded, “Cat got your tongue? Never mind, I prefer women to be silent.” Maybe coming here wasn’t the best idea after all.
I scooped out what looked like a simple soup into a bowl and relished the heat and taste. I felt warmth spread across my body and suddenly I didn’t feel the cold.
“So you’re the new one? You better grab some clean clothes before Harry gets back and accuses me of not doin’ my job. Names Mary and you are…” A plump woman with curly white hair and a stained apron scowled at me,
“Meredith. I mean I think it’s Meredith.” I stuttered,
“Traumatised, that’s what you are. Never mind. Follow me and I’ll show you to a room.” She threw a pile of clothes at me and I followed her downstairs, “When was the last time you slept? You look exhausted. We need to feed you up a bit and get some meat on your bones.”
I didn’t feel tired, nor hungry, but apparently my appearance said it all.
“Here we are. You’re lucky we’ve a room. The last lot left yesterday so there’s just me, you and Harry at the minute.”
“Thank you. I’m not sure how I can repay you for your kindness.”
“Oh, you’ll repay us soon enough.” Mary smiled and left but not without locking the door behind her.
It didn’t take me long to realise I was locked in the cellar with no way of escaping. Apparently people hadn’t changed that much after all. I quickly changed and sighed at the feel of shoes on my feet, a little big but so much better than the cloth I’d wrapped around them. People had definitely been living down here. Four beds sat in a row with a bucket in the corner and a single candle flickering for light. What did they want with me?
I sat on the bed with my knees to my chest wondering how I was going to escape. Whatever they wanted couldn’t be good. I was such a fool. Had I always been this trusting? I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The next thing I knew I was standing in the kitchen with Harry and Mary. I panicked and stumbled forwards. I should have fell into Harry but instead I fell through him. This was crazy! I righted myself and waved my hand through Harry’s head. I suddenly remembered my brother getting excited about his first astral projection…my God I had a brother! I couldn’t remember his face or name but I knew in my bones I had a brother.
“All we need is another three and I can sell them for a pretty penny. The war was the best thing to happen to us, especially now all those men are coming back from fighting needing a bit of lovin’!” Harry laughed and the joy of remembering family soon ebbed,
“Which whore house you sellin’ em to this time?”
“I dunno. It depends. The one we got already will be a bit of a looker once she’s had a wash and got some food in her belly. Maybe I’ll sell them to that troll under London bridge for food. It’s a bit of a waste but it pays.”
“Troll’s stink, and I thought we weren’t doin’ any of that weird crap anymore. Ok, it brings in some money but things like that aren’t supposed to exist. Not natural if you ask me!”
“He came to us remember. We only have his word he’s a troll. Yeah he’s an ugly SOB and smells like a week old piss bucket but he’s probably just delusional from the war.” Harry laughed and took a swig from his glass,
“Delusional enough to eat people. How much did he pay last time?”
“Enough to keep you in silk underwear for a year.” I gagged at the thought and Mary laughed,
“To the troll it is then.”
I left them laughing over my fate and slammed back into my body. I ran to the door and started banging when I heard footsteps,
“Will you shut up! Is this the way you repay our hospitality? You’re safe down here so quit kicking the door.”
“I will not become troll food!” I yelled. There was silence,
“Harry…” Mary yelled, “How many times do I have to tell you to keep your voice down when talking about the merchandise?” I heard Mary storm up the stairs and slam the top door shut. Even from the cellar I heard pans crashing and glass breaking. Mary might look innocent but I was guessing from the noise she had a temper. The banging went on for hours and I settled myself on the bed. It wasn’t long until I felt my eyes become heavy and I finally slept. I hadn’t slept since I’d woken in that cave. Not one blissful minute and here I was, a prisoner, listening to Mary’s tantrum, finally knowing sleep once more.
I’d always thought dreams were complicated things. The only moment in life when you could do the things you always wanted, not being held back by consequences. They didn’t always make sense but there was always an underlying truth. I dreamt of people but their faces were out of focus and I couldn’t quite bring myself to seeing who they were. I remembered a woman, her voice, her golden hair but she had no face. I tried desperately to see but I couldn’t. Her face was gone, replaced with screaming and crying. Heat, burning heat, engulfed me until I could feel my skin boiling away. I felt anger and then remorse. Sadness for the things I’d lost and would never have. Hate filled my veins, not for me, but for another who shared my fate and then I was choking. Coughing flames as the fire hit my lungs, coughing and coughing,
“We have a live one!” Someone yelled and I opened my eyes, “We thought we’d lost you for a minute there.” I was lying on the wet ground with a man covered in soot smiling at me,
“What…” I coughed,
“Don’t try to talk. There was a fire and you’re lucky to be alive.”
“The others?”
“Mary and Harry? They deserved everything they got. You’re lucky we’d been watching them.”
“I….”
“You’re going to hospital, although you look remarkably well to say the fire started in the cellar. You can tell me all about when you’re better.”
“Who….”
“…Am I?” He laughed, “We’ll get to that once you’re able to tell me how you managed to start and escape a fire that managed to burn everything else to a crisp.”

At that moment I knew that I was responsible. The fire I’d felt in my dreams had manifested like it had done in the cave that first day. I had killed two people and didn’t care. Not one little bit.

Friday 25 December 2015

Rise of the Raven - Webisode 1


Merry Christmas everyone!! I hope everyone is having a great day and as a special gift from me to you is the very first webisode of Rise of the Raven. This is the start of something completely new for me where I post a new webisode every month (or sooner!). I'm going to write as I go along! Webisodes will preview here on the blog with an ebook to follow. I hope you enjoy and happy reading this holiday season.


Copyright E.I Jennings 2015

Rise of The Raven – The Chronicles.


In the beginning there was nothing…


People take their memories for granted. They use little memories every single day without even realising it. So what if you suddenly didn’t have any? What if you could no longer answer to your name because you had no idea what it was or who you are? Would you go mad? Memories create a sense of identity and without them you feel completely vulnerable. Maybe this is why babies are so innocent and rely on their parents until they can build memories. All I know is that I was curled up on the floor of a cave, naked and scared. It was as if my whole identity had been plucked from my head and only the basics were left. I knew I was in a cave but why? Someone had been here. I could see that torches were lit and they flickered against the rock walls. It was only when I noticed the scorched walls and the pile of ash on the floor that I also realised there was an outline of a body. The torches had been burned to stumps and the sand under my fingers took on an eerie shine from where I’d crawled. Glass? I felt like a new-born, so many questions with no one to answer them.
I couldn’t stay in the cave forever. I was hungry and cold and really needed some answers. I struggled to stand and the hard rock was still warm under my touch. What could have caused all this damage? I staggered to the only opening to be greeted with another chasm, illuminated with hundreds of candles. What was this place? I ran my fingers over a carving in the wall. A five sided star? A pentagram with strange writing glowed at my touch. It looked like my first day was just getting weirder. There was something familiar about it but I couldn’t quite get the information out of my brain. I knew this cave but couldn’t remember why. I looked around, hoping there was something to tell me who I was but all I found was an old blanket cast away in the corner and the remanence of old, decaying food. Someone had been waiting for something. I wrapped the blanket around my shoulders and headed towards more light. Thankfully this time I was greeted by sunlight. My eyes burned with the brightness but I gave a sigh of relief as the sea air brushed across my face. I was by the sea! As I could slowly see again I finally saw waves crashing against a cliff. The cave and the small beach area was the only place not consumed by water and seemed completely isolated. If someone had been waiting inside the cave, there must have been a way down from the top and a way out.
If it wasn’t for the warmth of the sun glaring down on me I would have frozen to death trying to find a way off this little beach, and as I was about give up I finally saw it. Steps so finely carved they camouflaged themselves into the cliff. This cave had definitely been a secret for such intricate work. They’d been weathered over the years and were covered in slime and random seagull nests but I was determined to get out of this place. By the time I made it to the top I was covered in dirt, feathers, and shit but I’d made it; naked no less. I’d dropped that damn blanket on the first seagull attack. I suddenly felt completely out of place. There must have been acres and acres of fields, stretched as far as I could see but for one house sitting in the middle of it. I was tired, sore and my fingers bled from the sharp stones but I had to find help. I took one last look at the sea and smiled at its beauty and began my trek towards the house.
Nothing in life was easy apparently, especially today. I went skidding on a cow pat and landed face down in a pool of mud, well I hoped it was mud. With the mud covering me, technically I was no longer naked. As the sun began to dim the sea breeze whipped across my body. If I didn’t get inside soon it was going to be a cold night for me. It felt like I’d walked miles when my feet finally hit something other than grass. The house I’d seen was in fact a huge mansion. People were laughing and joking as they moved towards metal boxes then climbed in. They roared and lights sprung from their eyes as the metal monster began eating them as they continued to laugh. How could they be laughing at being eaten alive? Within moments the metal beasts had consumed their prey and began running away. I said a silent prayer for the lives lost and ran towards the door. Locked. Writing on the wall informed me that this mansion was only open between nine am and five pm Monday to Friday. How strange that a house this size only had occupants for such a small amount of time. Unfortunately for me the door was solid and the house was in darkness.
My brain wanted to remember. I could feel the pain of memories between my eyes and then a door flashed in my mind. I knew how to get in. I didn’t know how, but I knew I could get myself inside. I walked around the back, keeping to the shadows in case someone was still around. A memory of playing as a child in the same garden nearly knocked me off my feet. I pulled away ivy from the side wall and found what I wanted. I didn’t know why I knew the right combination of stones but as I pressed they moved to make an arch. For some reason I didn’t even flinch as what could only be called magic.  I took a deep breath and walked through. I found myself standing in a bedroom looking at myself in a full length mirror. I was filthy and looked like I’d been dragged around a pig sty but the most disturbing thing was that my reflection was that of a stranger.
There was no wash basin but I found strange metal things that when turned acted like the water pump in the barn yard. I was soon clean but was still naked. I walked through the mansion trying to remember something, anything. I soon found myself in a room that said ‘Staff Only’ on the door. I laughed wondering why this people put names on doors. Someone had left bread and cheese on the counter and I ate it all, even the crumbs. It was a relief to see some clothing even though it appeared to be for a man. I was grateful I didn’t have to wear the drapes. Trousers and a jacket it had to be. I wrapped them around me and found a length of rope to keep them tight. I sat for a moment and pulled a pile of paper towards me. ‘The Welsh Gazette’. The paper seemed thinner than it should have been but what I couldn’t understand was how real things were pictured in it. No drawings but real pictures! I was amazed but the more I read the more my heart fell. ‘War is Over. We Win’. What war? More metal monsters and metal dragons in the sky. People cheering, waving a flag a didn’t quite recognise. This was wrong, all wrong and then I noticed the date; May 1945. Wrong, wrong, wrong!
 I couldn’t stay here. What if the metal monsters came back to eat me? I couldn’t take that chance. I felt wrong in this world and I had to find out why. I took one last look as I approached the magical doorway again but this time a painting caught my eye. I walked cautiously towards it until I came face to face with myself. This couldn’t be right surely? The more I looked the more I knew. Black hair, green eyes, it was me but it couldn’t be. There was writing on the wall next to it and I made myself read. ‘Lord Glamorrghan’s daughter died tragically in a barn fire just before her twenty first birthday’. I knew for a fact that was a lie because I was here. ‘This painting was commissioned in remembrance by her father and has not been moved since its completion’. I felt sick. I stared so hard at the painting I could see brush strokes and then my eyes fell further. Written in gold on the frame was a name. Apparently I was Meredith Glamorrghan and I was over two hundred years old. Oh this was going to be fun!





Monday 16 November 2015

Silver Rose Publishing’s First Annual Writing for Charity Event. The Silver Linings Contest

                       Silver Rose Publishing’s First Annual Writing for Charity Event.
                                                  The Silver Linings Contest

Silver Rose Publishing proudly presents our first annual writing contest: The Silver Linings Contest.
We will begin taking contest submissions on November 7th, 2015 with an ending date of January 1st, 2016. We’ll announce the names of the winners via personal email as well as across several platforms, pages, and blogs with an estimated publication date of April 2016.*
The runners-up will have their stories featured on the Silver Rose blog page, The Book and The Rose, as well as the various Silver Rose Publishing pages and platforms.
We will be choosing between 5-10 entries and up to three runners up, compiling the winning manuscripts into a single anthology. Proceeds will be going to The Anxiety and Depression Association of America in the continental United States and Mind.org in the U.K. **
All submissions and entries will be read in due time. Feel free to contact us with questions or concerns, but please note that any persistent or overbearing queries can be grounds for your entry to be disqualified.
For those who wish to donate but not enter the contest you can opt to use the links provided.
Entries may be submitted to ilarose@silverrosepublishing.co.uk

 Terms and Conditions:
·       Entries before November 7th 2015 or after the ending date of January 1st 2016 will not be entered.

·       All entries must be no less than 5k and no more than 10k. Any entry less than 5,000 words or more than 10,000 words will not be considered.
·       All entries must include your contact information, your name and/or pen name if you chose to use one, the title of the piece and a short description of your story.
·       Contestants should also have a very short blurb about themselves and very short dedication included in the introduction/contact information.
·       This will be an international contest, open to all ages and countries. We just ask that you include your age and country with your contact information.
 v For example:

John Doe
1234 Five Street
Somewhere, Someplace, USA
(xxx)xxx-xxxx
Email, Facebook, other pages.
Your title. Your genre. What your story is about. This is about me. This story is for this reason. Word count. Specification on the language/writing style used such as American English, British English, Australian English, etc…
·       
         We ask that all works be original and written by the author submitting the manuscript. No third party or plagiarized materials will be tolerated.
·       
       Please specify if it is or has been previously published. If chosen, your title will be removed from the sales platform and replaced under the Silver Rose Publishing label. 
·       
     Manuscripts should be roughly edited and carefully read for things like spelling, grammar, punctuation, and consistency.
·      
         We also ask that manuscripts not be formatted in any way! This will help later on if your entry does get chosen. Any formatted manuscripts will be disqualified.
·      
        Number of accepted entries will be between five and ten. The number will depend on length, editing, and final word count of the anthology as a whole. There will also be three semi-finalists chosen as back up.
·       
      The author must be willing to share their personal information, i.e. name, contact number, address, and be willing to sign a temporary contract as well as any forms for Silver Rose Publishing we require.
·      
     We ask that each contestant sign a non-disclosure agreement until the end date of the contest including but not limited to: personal business aspects, personal experience, the winning entries, the runners-up, or business aspects.
Business aspects include but are not limited to publishing, editing, real names of the people that use sur-names or mentors that work to get the manuscript ready for print.
·      
       All authors submitting manuscripts will be required to electronically sign a non-disclosure agreement. Failure to do so will be grounds for the submission to be disqualified.
·      
    Negativity or posting/sharing slanderous materials is unacceptable and will be grounds for full termination of the entry. Any/all edits or preparations on said manuscript will be halted, deleted, and returned to the author as it was submitted.
·      
        Entries can be Young Adult, New Adult, Mature Adult, or 18+. It may be any type of fiction such as fantasy, science fiction, contemporary fiction, or romance; all we ask is that you specify which genre and age range you’re aiming for.
·       YA books generally are defined as:
§  Age group of 16-25 typically
§  No sexual content or explicit sexuality
§  No explicit language
§  No explicit violence or violent situations
o   EXAMPLES: Divergent, The Fault in our Stars, Twilight, Fragile

·       NA or New Adult books are generally defined as:
§  Age group of typically 20 somethings
§  Little/Mild sexuality
§  Little/Mild explicit language
§  Little/Mild violence or violent situations
o   EXAMPLES: The After Series, The Hunger Games trilogy, Violet Awakening
·       MA or Mature books generally are defined as:
·       Ages 18+
·       May contain vivid sexual situations
·       May contain explicit language
·       May contain violence or violent situations
·       EXAMPLES: 50 Shades Series, The Martian, High Heels and Naked Lies, The Jessica Dawn Series


·       We will not be taking children’s books, religious works, non-fiction, or any manuscripts that include scenes of gratuitous or extreme violence and/or sexual/physical abuse.

*Publishing dates as well as the reveal dates of the winning submissions are subject to change with little to no notice, upon the Publisher’s will.

** You will not receive monetary compensation. All monies made, after Silver Rose Publishing recovers losses, will go to a charity we choose. However, you will receive an open ended contract that will begin upon the date the title is published and ending the day the title is removed from circulation allowing Silver Rose Publishing to hold the title and rights to your manuscript. All authors must be willing to sign the short term contract. Refusal to do so will result in immediate disqualification and will be grounds for full termination of the entry. Any/all edits or preparations on said manuscript will be halted, deleted, and returned to the author as it was submitted.

The authors must be willing to forgo royalties involved to Silver Rose Publishing for donation to the charities of our choosing after recovering the costs incurred in creating, maintaining, and publishing of the winning entries. Anyone not willing to do so will forfeit their winning place and will be replaced by one of the runners up.

Silver Rose Publishing maintains the right to withdraw contracts at any time and for any reason we deem appropriate with little to no warning to the author.