When someone freaks out over the ending to one of my stories:
Chimehour by Caitlin E. Jones
I entered “Chimehour” into the latest Inkitt contest! Please feel free to read, review, and click the little heart to vote for the story. Your support is very appreciated!
(curdlemilkstealbabies, captslow-show, blackwingedgabriel, krios-alenko, evakirsten. Adding more tags later).
Look. At. This.
You just can’t write an intensively bloody scene without listening to metal while doing it. It just can’t be done. Just saying.
Resource List: all things fairy
- The Chronicles of the Sidhe
- The works of Fiona Macleod volume IV (free to read)
- The Fairy Faith in Celtic Countries
- The Living World of faery
- Meeting the Other Crowd
- Pagan Portals- Fairy Witchcraft
- The Secret Commonwealth of Elves, Fauns, and Fairies
- World of Faery
- How to See Faeries
- Gods and Fighting Men
- Traces of the Elder Faiths in ireland
- Sir Launfal (translation)
- The Fairy Flute
- Aradia, Gospel of the Witches
Online Links (articles, blogs, etc)
- Irish Faery Tradition and the Living Land
- Evidence of Religious influence on the Folk and Fairy Tales of Ireland
- Fairy Hills
- Are you a witch, a fairy, or the wife of Michael Clearly?
- Celtic Folklore (free ebooks)
- Sacred-Texts’ section on Celtic folklore
- Poems by Fiona Macloed
- Otherworld Themes in “Aislinge Meic Con Glinne”
- Various Celtic Fairy Tales
From the book’s perspective, the two men arguing over who had the right of way seemed perfectly mad.
“I do not know where you are from, good sir, but in my hamlet, one yields to those turning right at an intersection,” Mr. Smithson shouted at a level that was well above the decency of the intersection.
The other man stood in place, his eyes seemed as though they could not decide as what to direct their attention towards; the crumpled mess of carriage and horse or towards Mr. Smithson whose red face resembled that of a split tuna, fresh from the day’s catch. “I… Good sir… My…” The man gawped his mouth as if he suddenly took on a fishy persona much like the aforementioned tuna.
“Do not play the dullard with me! I will not have any of it,” Mr. Smithson spotted a young boy poking around the wreckage that was his carriage. “Young man, if you would kindly fetch the constable, there is a shiny ha’penny waiting for you!” and before Mr. Smithson could say ‘penny’ the boy raced off in search for an enforcer of the law.
“Constable…” the man said through dazed lips who turned a miraculous shade of pale gold.
“You best.. know it!” Mr. Smithson said, feeling a wave of madness washing over his mind. “He’ll… set you… right…” and as quickly as the boy ran off, Mr. Smithson felt something tugging at his mind towards the wreckage. How does one react to an accident when they were being compelled by some ancient and terrible thing?
Together, the men walked to the wreckage and fished the book from its resting place upon a shattered horse. They walked off before the constable could return.
A pale gold adorned both their faces, its hue and tone in perfect sync with the embossed letters on the spine of the book, ‘The King in Yellow’. The book had gained a new convert and was enthralled with the drama of it all, something to take note of for future ‘accidents’.
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