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Prophecy of Peace
Published: October 2015 
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A gripping mystery that spans a century.
Two young men, best friends, find themselves on a mission one night in October 2015 heading across a field in the corner of Essex, England. What they don't know is why are they here? And why this very night? As they reminisce, recalling the past, events seem to be telling them something. Billy Sheppardy soon realises that they need to discover what really did happen a century ago, and what is the significance of the wallet that his Granddad found as a small boy back in 1944? PRE - ORDER YOUR COPY NOW
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Published by:
ISBN: 9780992957315
RRP:Price: £6.50 100 Pages (approx) Book size: 148 x 210 Type: Fiction Readership: YA - A |
Take a 'Peek' inside . . .
. . . an excerpt from 'Dark days'
"In another room a young girl played. She had few friends and hardly anybody ever came to the cottage. She perched herself upon the windowsill and gazed dreamily out of the south-facing window. Now the trees were losing their leaves she could see the neighbouring dwelling - Dove cottage - the nearest small-holding. She wondered about the people who lived there, were they like her? Were there children? Did people ever visit them? The days seemed so long to her and she often got bored. Jumping down from the window and snapping her mind back to something of more interest she sat cross-legged on the wood floor and, reaching for the pack of playing cards she kept in the drawer of the table beside her bed, she started to lay them out on the floor in front of her. Father used to tell her that playing cards held strange secrets and many claimed that they forecast false prophecies. He did not like her playing with them, but she had always been fascinated by the games, the tricks, the patterns you could for-see if you persisted long enough trying to work things out. She had a persistent mind that revelled in the face of any challenge. Anna had become very good at making her own entertainment and playing solo. She'd had to, as mother was always busy, and, now, at eleven years old she didn't feel she really knew her father - she wasn't even sure if she ever really wanted to!
It was around mid-morning as Anna was just finishing another round of solo when she heard the noise: a crash – a thudding sound coming from somewhere below . . . and she knew that this time her father might really be in some sort of trouble. As she lifted her skirts to aid her speed she dashed down the flight of steps to the cellar, hoping he hadn't locked himself in this time, (as was often the case!).
“Father. Father are you alright?”
There was no reply.
As she carefully opened the door Anna could immediately see that her father was not obviously hurt, he had not fallen. The crashing sound appeared to have been caused by the upturning of unwelcome furniture. He stood, clutching something close to his chest, oblivious to her entrance for a second or two. Now, the young girl's emotions changed from that of relief at finding her father unhurt, to those of fear of what she might be met with as her eyes fell upon his firm disconcerting gaze;
“Anna, you must not come into this room unless . . .” his eyes held a glazed and distant look as his speech tailed off.
“I . . I heard a noise, I thought -”
“ -You thought what? You thought you'd run? - run here to see what made the noise?”
Anna trembled as her Father's voice rose in tone.
“Run, run away. That's what people do when they hear the noise,” He started to pace around the room, his dark eyes staring straight ahead with a wild glare. He clutched the small card tightly to his breast. “But you ran to me because you want something?” He stared wildly into his daughter's eyes. “What do you want Anna? What must you have? Why did you come here?” He moved closer she was now quite frightened.
“Stop it Father, you're scaring me.” She started to cry.
“You're safe here, quick come with me.”
He moved towards her reaching out his hand.
She instantly backed away, there was something about him now that terrified her.
“No Father!” She turned and ran out of the room. He put a hand over his head and started to make a whining sound as if he was in pain, then he started to cry out in despair;
“The noise, leave me please, I can't . . . Oh God please let it stop, it's been ten years now.”
Suddenly, he took his hand from his head and stared at the piece of card. A momentary brightness returned to his wildly troubled eyes, as he became now suddenly very alert. Swiftly, he returned to the desk as if the emotions of the last few minutes had now just completely passed him by, and frantically he started to scribble something down onto the back of the card he’d been clutching. "
