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    Elm of False Dreams
    Elm of False Dreams
    Elm of False Dreams
    Ebook111 pages1 hour

    Elm of False Dreams

    By Jon Jacks

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    When Mima’s brother is killed by the witch and were-lion Cerissa, she believes there is no hope for him until she briefly hears his cry for help in a magical horn. Before she can rescue him from Hades, however, she first has to find and confront Cerissa herself; failing to realise that Minotaurs, Centaurs and Gorgons aren’t the mythical characters she believes them to be.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJon Jacks
    Release dateMay 30, 2015
    ISBN9781310549793
    Elm of False Dreams
    Author

    Jon Jacks

    While working in London as, first, an advertising Creative Director (the title in the U.S. is wildly different; the role involves both creating and overseeing all the creative work in an agency, meaning you're second only to the Chairman/President) and then a screenwriter for Hollywood and TV, I moved out to an incredibly ancient house in the countryside. On the day we moved out, my then three-year-old daughter (my son was yet to be born) was entranced by the new house, but also upset that we had left behind all that was familiar to her. So, very quickly, my wife Julie and I laid out rugs and comfortable chairs around the huge fireplace so that it looked and felt more like our London home. We then left my daughter quietly reading a book while we went to the kitchen to prepare something to eat. Around fifteen minutes later, my daughter came into the kitchen, saying that she felt much better now 'after talking to the boy'. 'Boy?' we asked. 'What boy?' 'The little boy; he's been talking to me on the sofa while you were in here.' We rushed into the room, looking around. There wasn't any boy there of course. 'There isn't any little boy here,' we said. 'Of course,' my daughter replied. 'He told me he wasn't alive anymore. He lived here a long time ago.' A child's wild imagination? Well, that's what we thought at the time; but there were other strange things, other strange presences (but not really frightening ones) that happened over the years that made me think otherwise. And so I began to write the kind of stories that, well, are just a little unbelievable.

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      Book preview

      Elm of False Dreams - Jon Jacks

      Elm of False Dreams

      Jon Jacks

      Other New Adult and Children’s books by Jon Jacks

      The Caught – The Rules – Chapter One – The Changes – Sleeping Ugly

      The Barking Detective Agency – The Healing – The Lost Fairy Tale

      A Horse for a Kingdom – Charity – The Most Beautiful Things (Now includes The Last Train)

      The Dream Swallowers – Nyx; Granddaughter of the Night – Jonah and the Alligator

      Glastonbury Sirens – Dr Jekyll’s Maid – The 500-Year Circus – The Desire: Class of 666

      P – The Endless Game – DoriaN A – Wyrd Girl – The Wicker Slippers

      Heartache High (Vol I) – Heartache High: The Primer (Vol II) – Heartache High: The Wakening (Vol III)

      Miss Terry Charm, Merry Kris Mouse & The Silver Egg – The Last Angel – Eve of the Serpent

      Seecrets – The Cull – Dragonsapien – The Boy in White Linen – Porcelain Princess – Freaking Freak

      Died Blondes – Queen of all the Knowing World – The Truth About Fairies – Lowlife

      Coming Soon

      God of the 4th Sun

      Text copyright© 2015 Jon Jacks

      All rights reserved

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes

      Thank you for downloading this ebook. It remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes.

      Thank you for your support.

      Chapter 1

      The leaf came in on a wind, landed softly by her feet: so innocent in its appearance, so malicious in its intentions.

      As any young girl might have done, she bent down, picked it up – twirled it curiously in her hand, taking in its strange beauty, the way its veins pumped its green blood through to its soft skin.

      As no other girl would have done, she saw in this beauty the fluttering of a bird’s wings, the beating of its relatively powerful breast.

      She wanted to fly.

      She sat down on the bare ground, careless of the way the earth dirtied her skirt, the sharp stones scuffing her legs.

      She curled the leaf between her fingers. Her sharp eyes sought out another leaf, and another.

      She spun them swiftly, deftly, in her hands. Tearing slightly here, bending the remains of a stalk there. Adding twigs she picked up from the ground with other leaves.

      For the eyes, of course, she used small, glistening globules of spit, sparkling like polished horn.

      For a brief moment, she admired her creation.

      Then she let it fly off into the night.

      *

      Unfortunately for Cerissa, this time she had been seen. (For, of course, she had done this many times.)

      If the young person watching that night had caught her performing her marvellous skills on previous occasions, he would have marvelled too at her creation of sparkling fish from reeds. Fish that would eagerly swim away from between her flicking fingers.

      He would also have been astounded by the coming together of a frog from mainly frogspawn, a chicken chiefly from feathers, a mouse from the discarded food pouch of an owl.

      Was she a witch?

      Naturally, that’s what the watching boy could only wonder.

      She didn’t seem like a witch.

      She seemed like a normal girl.

      A girl he had known for most of his own young life.

      That was why he was here, of course. He’d followed her out into the dark woods, because he was curious.

      Why did she always head off this way when they had finished playing?

      Why did she always pretend to head for home – then, once she believed everyone had left, slip off onto the path leading between the trees?

      This was why; because she knew that she would be either killed or exiled if anyone became aware of her abilities. Abilities she had so far kept hidden from everyone.

      It was a profound responsibility, he knew, to be suddenly granted such power over her. The power of life and death.

      He wondered what he should do.

      He should tell the village elders, obviously. They would know what to do. How to treat Cerissa fairly, without allowing her own powers to bring distress to the villagers.

      And yet – he was worried that the elders might not come to the right, fair decision.

      He didn’t want Cerissa harmed in any way.

      He liked her.

      He liked her very, very much.

      That was why he had followed her.

      Why he had been so curious about where she slipped off to on an evening. Why he had noticed in the first place that she didn’t immediately head back to the village with all the other children.

      He had suspected worse, in fact; that she had a boy she met secretly, one from another village. An older boy.

      He was glad that that was not the case.

      He wouldn’t tell anyone just yet.

      He would think carefully first about what he must do.

      He turned to leave: and then a leaf, full of malicious intent, drifted and fell across his forehead.

      *

      Chapter 2

      It was indeed a profound responsibility, a dreadful choice he faced.

      Cerissa was far too beautiful to die. Such beauty could not be wasted. It should be cherished. Cared for.

      It was a beauty that should be his.

      Could be his.

      All he had to do was let Cerissa know that he had spared her.

      That he cared for her so much, he would never reveal her dangerous secret.

      As long as, of course, she was promised to him. As long as she remained faithful to him, he would ignore the fact that she was a witch.

      He stepped out from his veiling covering of small bushes, long grasses and ferns.

      ‘Cerissa,’ he began – the name instantly dying on his dried tongue, in his gawping mouth, as a huge bear of nightmarish form loomed out of the encroaching darkness.

      He couldn’t scream. For a moment he seemed frozen, expecting the bear’s huge claws to strike him dead. And yet – or rather because of this – he was unable to flee.

      ‘Aestus!’ Cerissa cried worriedly, calling out his name. ‘Don’t be afra–’

      Cerissa’s cry was enough to drag him out of his stupor. He turned, ran back into the bushes, hurtling headlong and carelessly through the dark wood.

      The bear looked down on Cerissa, its eyes of spit and chewed berries sad and questioning; he realised he had made a mistake.

      ‘Wait here!’ Cerissa ordered, rushing after Aestus.

      The wood wasn’t the place to be this late in the evening, unless you had someone like Breni there to protect you.

      She chased after Aestus as fast as she dared. It wasn’t just wild animals you had to be beware of; in the dark, everything beneath your feet became a potential trap that could send you flying, perhaps even break a few of your bones.

      She was used to running though the woods and keeping

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