the fallen silk

Storytelling is my form of healing, of coping with the waves that wash my soul in darkness. I have struggled for nearly two decades with this current, constantly being threatened to be taken under, out to sea, to drown in my own sorrows. I have always sought refuge in the forests - those of my mind, or those of the natural world. There is something safe about the forest, something comforting and warm and inviting. But there are also shadows, things that defy what we know about our world. Hidden things, mysterious things.

Synopsis: Newly divorced Effie Wickes moves into her mother's forest cottage after her untimely death. As she is dealing with the loss, and the pain and fear from her abusive marriage, she is driven down the path to madness as her mother's ghost haunts her and something ancient and cold stalks her from the tree line that surrounds her home. Will she learn to live with the creature that haunts her day and night, or will it scare her into an early grave, just as it did her mother?

This ebook was inspired by the constant struggle I've had with depression, how the illness can sneak up on you, find you at your most vulnerable and destroy you from the inside. It is a silent stalker and often nestles into your soul years before you realise it has been living within you.

GO HERE TO COLLECT THE BOOK. 

I have so many people in my life that understand me, and I know that there are those out there that are not thusly blessed. Everyone needs someone to listen. If you are feeling dark, feeling abandoned, feeling misunderstood, please reach out to someone - you may not believe me, but your light would be sorely missed, should you snuff out your flame. There are people who believe in you, who cherish you, who look for your face in a crowd or hope that it will be your voice on the other end of a call.

I hope that any who visit and enjoy my words are inspired to share the publication of this project. <3

Here is the Pinterest board for the project, and here is the Goodreads page.

As with all of my books, this tale has a deep and personal hidden meaning. If you are in need of assistance or someone to just sit and listen, please seek the help you need. There are so many wonderful resources out there, and I would hate to live in a world without your light. <3

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline (USA) 1-800-273-8255

Suicide Hotlines (USA and International)

Sanctuary: An Initiative (my offering of an ear to listen)

excerpt

I have been working tirelessly on The Fallen Silk, trying to write every day regardless of my feelings of inadequacy and my atychiphobia; some days I write hundreds of words, other days I can barely force out a sentence or two.

I have been wrestling with my thoughts recently, with the things that are sure to come at some point in the near future. I am struggling with pain and a deep sense of loss--within the darkness, scattered points of light shine through and those glimpses of joy and smiles and laughter bring me a sense of calm. It is these feelings, all of the darkness broken by light here and there, that inspire this tale of grief and acceptance and understanding.

***

photo: nick west

My darling daughter, I know you will solve every puzzle you are faced with, and that there is no obstacle too large for you to overcome.

She opened her eyes to the soft white and pink and yellow light of morning. She couldn’t remember closing the window, but when she glanced to either side of the bed, she noticed that neither window was open. It was warm and bright in the bedroom, nothing like it had been only hours before. Nimbus had found her way onto the bed and had curled up under the comforter against Effie’s side. She ran her hand over the kitten’s fur and along her jawline, cooing to the feline to wake her.

Her mother’s words of encouragement echoed in her thoughts as she moved out from under the blanket and pulled her robe around her body. Nimbus stretched against the sheets but did not move from her place in the sea of white and mauve. With a final smile back at her companion, Effie left the bedroom for the kitchen.

The morning light had seeped through the lace curtains and cast filigree shadows on the floor and her feet as she padded over the warm wood to the stove. The coals had almost completely died out as she slept, which she assumed was the reason it had been so cold (seeing as a window had not been open), so Effie loaded another log and few pieces of paper and twigs into the belly of the metal stove and lit the paper with a match. The fire took, roared to life, and began to fill the room with a gentle warmth. She filled her kettle and set it on the burner, then set about preparing a plate of biscuits and fresh fruits from the harvest.

It was a peaceful and quiet morning, and for the first time since her mother’s death, Effie felt a joy that radiated through her ribs and up to her face, and she watched the woods from her kitchen window with a smile.

the fallen silk--excerpt

A plate of jam biscuits and a cup of steaming tea sat on the side table, and Effie moved around the room, carrying boxes covered in dust from the closet and placing them on the floor and the bed. She couldn’t put it off, she knew she had to go through her mother’s things, but there was a pain in her heart that wouldn’t go away.

Satisfied that she had enough boxes to fill a few hours, Effie sat in the centre of her bed and opened the first box—it was filled with journals and books and dusty, faded letters written on handmade paper. The writing was definitely her mother’s, and the subjects ranged from longing to excitement to a dark depression Effie hadn’t known her mother had experienced until recently. She placed the letters in a pile beside her, hoping to go through them all at a later date.

photo: lia leslie

The diaries were just as jumpy—some entries were so bright that Effie felt blinded by her mother’s happiness, yet scattered throughout the pages were such dark thoughts and feelings that confused her. How had her mother dealt with such a jumble of emotions? Effie stacked the diaries to one side of the letters, planning on putting them all together to form the story of Theola Wickes in a way that she might be able to understand her mother’s illness better.

The books excited something in her that hadn’t shown itself in years; the childlike wonder and curiosity of old tales and fables, the undying innocence of stories that taught morals and valuable lessons but still caused such a deep fear within the readers that they would never dare do what the characters had done. There were bookmarks made of cloth, leaves, bits of paper stuck between pages, corners bent; she felt that each page held a clue to what her mother had felt and thought throughout the years.

Finding these things made her feel closer to Theola, made the loss of her mother more bearable as if she had not died at all but was only away indefinitely.