The Witch in the Mirror – Part 5

Spiritual force Power – magic – destiny Old ways and new Connect with nature Because She is us   Emily ran her hand over the dusky green cover. It made her fingers tingle again. Intrigued, she opened the cover and found what should have been the title page was blank. Very faintly in the corner…

The Witch in the Mirror – Part 4

The cottage was dark as Emily walked softly down the stairs. Her hand covered the light of the torch so she could just make out the railing in the gloom. She had found the torch on a shelf in the laundry and hid it in her pocket earlier in the day. That night she had…

The Witch in the Mirror – Part 3

In the evening Emily sat with her mother in the sitting room in front of an open fire. She had been hoping to find a secret door somewhere in the cottage but there was nothing. The kitchen was old but too ordinary to have anything as wonderful as a secret door. An iron stove sat…

The Witch in the Mirror – Part 2

Potions to protect future dreams from the cold and dark before they are broken forever By mid-morning Emily was bored. Endlessly wandering through antique shops wasn’t her idea of fun. How many more antique shops can there be? ‘Ooh, there’s another one down this lane.’ Mrs Wells was studying the tourist map. ‘Just one more,…

The Witch in the Mirror – part 1

Time becomes the hour Of magic and power To heal or harm Flesh and blood With dark whispers Within the circle For now is the time To awaken Four years ago Emily sat on a chair at the kitchen table munching on a slice of raisin toast and swinging her legs in the air. ‘Can…

The Witch in the Mirror – prologue

The school bell rang. Loud and shrill. Metallic. It signalled the end of winter and the beginning of my final year of school. A chance for a new beginning my mother had said. A chance to start over fresh. But I knew I would never ever forget. How could they expect me to forget everything that…

Thursday fragments 11

Extract from Molly’s Dreams, available from Amazon As the school year progressed I began to learn how to write. With my little fingers clutched around a wooden pencil, I had to take down the words Mrs Mills had written on the board and put them in my exercise book. By the end of the day my fingers were…