Sneak peek at Betrayal
Read the first page of Betrayal, my next short horror story which is available on my Patreon site from June 1st, along with two previous stories; Dream Catcher and The Devil’s Pocket Watch. Subscribe from as little as $1 per month for exclusive works. www.patreon.com/pjbnauthor
There is a fine line between prophecy and witchcraft. The consequences for both could not be farther apart, however. This is something that I learned at a young age. My father was a farmer, still is I presume if he is still alive. My mother married him at just fifteen, almost twenty years his junior, common practice in these times. My father had been married previously but lost his first wife to a plague of sickness which had swept through the village, taking more than half of the villagers with it. The loss was made doubly tragic as she had been pregnant with his first born but, the way that I look at it, if she had survived then I would not have existed.
Desperately lonely and in need of companionship, my parent's marriage was arranged only a few months later, my father determined to have someone bear him a son whom he could pass on the farm to. Perhaps he has one now, I do not know. It has been over ten years since I have seen him, over ten years since the trial - if you could call it that. My mother fell pregnant soon after they were married, understanding exactly what her role in life was to be. She knew no better and expected no more, content with becoming a farmer's wife and the bearer of his children.
Physically, my mother was not ready for childbirth; her frame too slight to endure the strain that it would put on her. Had she fallen pregnant with one child then perhaps she would have survived but twins were all too much. My sister was born first, by almost ten minutes and it was clear to my father, as well as to those assisting with the birth, that all was not well. From what I have been told, which is not a great deal, my mother had lost consciousness by the time they managed to drag me out of her, bleeding profusely from the tears that we had caused. She never awoke, not living long enough to even see her seventeenth birthday. My father was inconsolable, having buried two wives and gained no son in exchange for his loss.
As much as he had wanted a son, my father could not bring himself to remarry, unable to face the risk of losing a third wife. He accepted what he saw as his fate, solemnly moving on with his life on the farm, doing his best to raise two daughters alone. I remember him telling us that he did not want to send us off to be married, as was the custom for girls of a certain age. He wanted to prepare us for a life of farming, regardless of what anyone else would think. We looked up to him at that time, and from a very young age, we were taught everything that we would need to know in order to take over when my father was no longer able to tend to the fields himself.
The dreams began when we turned twelve. I say we because my sister had the same dreams, on the same nights. Virtually identical visions with one crucial difference. I would dream that I had an important destiny, that I would, someday, rise to fame. That I was chosen by a higher power to pass on the prophecies to mortal men. In my dreams my sister had become a force for evil, choosing to live a life of witchcraft and heresy. There was a scene that kept running over, night after night, in which we were both surrounded by a mob of people from the neighbouring villages. The conversation within the dream was muffled but it resulted in my sister being dragged to a stake, bound and burned alive. As close as we were in the real world, I appeared to feel no remorse in the dream. My sister's dream was identical, except that our roles were reversed and I was the evil one.
In other news, I need your help! I am currently running a Kickstarter campaign to raise funds for the illustrations and initial print costs of my first children’s book, co-written by my seven-year-old daughter. As of today it is 10% funded and there are three weeks remaining. In exchange for any pledges, there are numerous fab rewards including an ebook and a signed paperback. The ultimate reward, I feel, is also a great gift – a signed paperback and a stuffed monkey toy, sent to you in a cotton bag which is personalised with your child’s name! I would be extremely grateful if you could take a look at www.kickstarter.com/projects/22465567...
Best wishes
Peter
There is a fine line between prophecy and witchcraft. The consequences for both could not be farther apart, however. This is something that I learned at a young age. My father was a farmer, still is I presume if he is still alive. My mother married him at just fifteen, almost twenty years his junior, common practice in these times. My father had been married previously but lost his first wife to a plague of sickness which had swept through the village, taking more than half of the villagers with it. The loss was made doubly tragic as she had been pregnant with his first born but, the way that I look at it, if she had survived then I would not have existed.
Desperately lonely and in need of companionship, my parent's marriage was arranged only a few months later, my father determined to have someone bear him a son whom he could pass on the farm to. Perhaps he has one now, I do not know. It has been over ten years since I have seen him, over ten years since the trial - if you could call it that. My mother fell pregnant soon after they were married, understanding exactly what her role in life was to be. She knew no better and expected no more, content with becoming a farmer's wife and the bearer of his children.
Physically, my mother was not ready for childbirth; her frame too slight to endure the strain that it would put on her. Had she fallen pregnant with one child then perhaps she would have survived but twins were all too much. My sister was born first, by almost ten minutes and it was clear to my father, as well as to those assisting with the birth, that all was not well. From what I have been told, which is not a great deal, my mother had lost consciousness by the time they managed to drag me out of her, bleeding profusely from the tears that we had caused. She never awoke, not living long enough to even see her seventeenth birthday. My father was inconsolable, having buried two wives and gained no son in exchange for his loss.
As much as he had wanted a son, my father could not bring himself to remarry, unable to face the risk of losing a third wife. He accepted what he saw as his fate, solemnly moving on with his life on the farm, doing his best to raise two daughters alone. I remember him telling us that he did not want to send us off to be married, as was the custom for girls of a certain age. He wanted to prepare us for a life of farming, regardless of what anyone else would think. We looked up to him at that time, and from a very young age, we were taught everything that we would need to know in order to take over when my father was no longer able to tend to the fields himself.
The dreams began when we turned twelve. I say we because my sister had the same dreams, on the same nights. Virtually identical visions with one crucial difference. I would dream that I had an important destiny, that I would, someday, rise to fame. That I was chosen by a higher power to pass on the prophecies to mortal men. In my dreams my sister had become a force for evil, choosing to live a life of witchcraft and heresy. There was a scene that kept running over, night after night, in which we were both surrounded by a mob of people from the neighbouring villages. The conversation within the dream was muffled but it resulted in my sister being dragged to a stake, bound and burned alive. As close as we were in the real world, I appeared to feel no remorse in the dream. My sister's dream was identical, except that our roles were reversed and I was the evil one.
In other news, I need your help! I am currently running a Kickstarter campaign to raise funds for the illustrations and initial print costs of my first children’s book, co-written by my seven-year-old daughter. As of today it is 10% funded and there are three weeks remaining. In exchange for any pledges, there are numerous fab rewards including an ebook and a signed paperback. The ultimate reward, I feel, is also a great gift – a signed paperback and a stuffed monkey toy, sent to you in a cotton bag which is personalised with your child’s name! I would be extremely grateful if you could take a look at www.kickstarter.com/projects/22465567...
Best wishes
Peter
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