Witches Bones Come Alive
Witches Bones Come Alive
Part 1, The Girl With The Last Light
As promised, here is the very first part of the book, ‘The Girl With The Last Light’, I’ve been working on for many years. For the next 4 days I’ll send you small instalments. After that I’ll go back to what I’ve been doing with the book for a long time…. working on it, getting it ready to send to potential agents and navigating my way to publishing it.
Preface, Part 1: Witches Bones Come Alive
On a tree branch in the north of the Grey Isle, the raven woman opened her hand, stiff now with cold, and she dreamt a witches bone alive. It fizzed and crackled and took form. It had stubby wings. It was grey-white and porous like coral. It even had a face though Raven couldn’t make out its eyes.
It took flight in a wobbling lurching kind of way, dust falling from its body. Raven blew, giving it a current of wind. Her mind was mixed with dream and night and magic that poured out of her mouth like a silent voice and she cut an opening through time - through the years to the place where it would all begin - and the little creature flew through it into the past.
The coming alive of something impossible made an imprint on the world - a silence so quick Raven didn’t notice. But another did.
Raven saw a flurry of red and caught a tune sweeter than any she’d heard. She felt a rush of optimism rare to her stoic heart. And then the opening to the past closed and Raven felt the heaviness of the real night and the dark enchantments of the black slate and craggy rock of the mountain she stood upon.
Raven tried to remember the feel of the suns warmth. The Grey Isle was winter cold - always. She summoned the memory of spring green and crocus shoots and smiled wistfully. How many years had it been since the last real spring? She’d stopped counting. She was old now, too old if she was honest with herself but she couldn’t let age catch her. Not yet. There were so few of her kind left. Only three that she knew of. And the child.
Her hands were empty now. She’d released all the crackling witches bones into the air that she and her sister had carried out of the mountain that night, just the same as the other nights.
He was long dead the old king, but his followers tended his magic and kept their ears to the beat of his bones that rattled in his casket. The sound of them rippled like a heart beat through the earth. His reign continued in this way.
She knew there wasn’t much time left. Danger stalked her. The old Kings followers lingered nearby and it was mostly luck they’d not discovered her. The Listeners, people called them.
“Don’t look at them.” She’d heard parents say to their children when the Listeners came through the villages, for even a sideways glance was enough for your heart to feel hollowed of any kindness.
“They keep the peace.” She’d heard them say.
But it wasn’t true.
Too much time had past for anyone living to remember the seasons, to remember goodness and beauty.
She wondered when the oldest of the Listeners would return. He was coming for his King. Of that she was certain. He was coming for her too. She imagined him walking, one ear on the thrum of the kings enchanted bones whose sound was his hymn, whose sound gave him life beyond his natural years.
She hoped she had one more night to turn the pieces of bone into living creatures. She had one more place she wanted to send a message and this one required no time travel.
Raven thought of her friend the old Coyote. He would be waiting for her. She needed to get back to him, and to the child, Sophie.
Thank you for reading,
With love ,
Lucy