May Story Spotlight - The Wanderer
"Falling in love was a remedy with which no drug could compete."
In the spotlight this month is "The Wanderer", a gothic romantic mystery.
Behind the Story
'The Wanderer' was the third of the original three short stories I planned for 'Whispers from the Dead of Night'. A gothic romance and historical slow-burn mystery with overtones of horror, this was the fifth of the stories that I wrote.
Set in rural 17th century France, a traveller of British origin, who has journeyed all over Europe across a period of many years, is attacked and left for dead. A man takes pity on him and takes him to his humble family home to recover. The opening scene was inspired by the Biblical fable of the Good Samaritan, before we then descend into the vulnerability and discomfort experienced by the lead character during illness.
It was important to me to allow the emotional experience of a soul on a journey to drive the narrative. The man is undoubtedly either seeking something or trying to escape something, yet we join him on only a small part of his journey, as is the way we encounter many people in our lives.
The forbidden romance lies at the heart of this story - a simple tale with a creepy undercurrent that comes to the surface as it reaches its climax.
Together, let's wrap up warm against the night and travel back in time to bear witness to a forbidden love...
___
"Now I lay in chains, more trapped by my pining heart than by the walls that surrounded me."
A forbidden love...
Attacked and abandoned on the side of the road, a pilgrim with no destination is rescued only by the kindness of strangers.
During the long hours of the night, a young woman nurses him back to health, a woman who quickly steals his heart.
But, within the walls of this family's home, he finds, there hides a secret...
Opening Scene
The night was long and dark, as was the road before me. The night was my friend, my comrade, the best companion with whom to travel. The road was another of my friends; I walked it in long stretches by foot, always at night when it was cool. There were times when a stranger let me sit awhile as they journeyed in their cart and I was always grateful for their kindness. Ofttimes, I was alone.
Dusk fell and I crawled out from beneath the tree under which I had camped during the daylight, sheltering from the hot and heavy sunshine in the shade it cast. Stretching in the twilight, I found that the heat of the day had subsided to a warm night. I packed my meagre belongings into my sack, swinging it on to my back and setting off to the east.
No one else walked the road at night. I enjoyed the solitude. Never have I enjoyed the noise that people make, their desire to give voice to trivialities. Rarely did they make noise over important matters. I have watched men argue and fists fly over a game of darts and the question of fair play; watched those same men turn their backs as a woman was stoned in the street. I used to believe that was shame. Other times I attributed it to cowardice. But it was neither of those things. It was indifference.
Dust kicked up in front of me, shoes scuffed on the roughshod road. Along the way I saw a stray dog and several cats; at times a rat or a squirrel scurried across my path. After quite some time walking, I heard hooves approaching behind me from a distance. They rapidly gained on me.
“Hello, fellow traveller.” A man’s voice, merry, perhaps with liquor. “To where are you travelling on this fine night?”
I stopped and turned, smiling up at the cart. There were two men sat within it.
“I hope to reach the next village before dawn,” I replied, not slowing my pace. The man with the reigns, the one who had spoken, slowed his horse to a trot as he drew level with me, slowing him further to a walk.
“You’ve no hope of reaching it on foot,” the same man said. “You can ride with us the rest of the way.” We had all slowed to a stop. I looked from the spokesman to his less talkative companion.
“As long as it causes you no trouble.”
___
Available as part of the original "Whispers from the Dead of Night" short story collection in ebook and paperback and the deluxe collection in ebook, paperback and hardcover.
Order "Whispers from the Dead of Night"
Order "Whispers from the Dead of Night - The Deluxe Collection"
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Follow me on Twitter
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In the spotlight this month is "The Wanderer", a gothic romantic mystery.
Behind the Story
'The Wanderer' was the third of the original three short stories I planned for 'Whispers from the Dead of Night'. A gothic romance and historical slow-burn mystery with overtones of horror, this was the fifth of the stories that I wrote.
Set in rural 17th century France, a traveller of British origin, who has journeyed all over Europe across a period of many years, is attacked and left for dead. A man takes pity on him and takes him to his humble family home to recover. The opening scene was inspired by the Biblical fable of the Good Samaritan, before we then descend into the vulnerability and discomfort experienced by the lead character during illness.
It was important to me to allow the emotional experience of a soul on a journey to drive the narrative. The man is undoubtedly either seeking something or trying to escape something, yet we join him on only a small part of his journey, as is the way we encounter many people in our lives.
The forbidden romance lies at the heart of this story - a simple tale with a creepy undercurrent that comes to the surface as it reaches its climax.
Together, let's wrap up warm against the night and travel back in time to bear witness to a forbidden love...
___
"Now I lay in chains, more trapped by my pining heart than by the walls that surrounded me."
A forbidden love...
Attacked and abandoned on the side of the road, a pilgrim with no destination is rescued only by the kindness of strangers.
During the long hours of the night, a young woman nurses him back to health, a woman who quickly steals his heart.
But, within the walls of this family's home, he finds, there hides a secret...
Opening Scene
The night was long and dark, as was the road before me. The night was my friend, my comrade, the best companion with whom to travel. The road was another of my friends; I walked it in long stretches by foot, always at night when it was cool. There were times when a stranger let me sit awhile as they journeyed in their cart and I was always grateful for their kindness. Ofttimes, I was alone.
Dusk fell and I crawled out from beneath the tree under which I had camped during the daylight, sheltering from the hot and heavy sunshine in the shade it cast. Stretching in the twilight, I found that the heat of the day had subsided to a warm night. I packed my meagre belongings into my sack, swinging it on to my back and setting off to the east.
No one else walked the road at night. I enjoyed the solitude. Never have I enjoyed the noise that people make, their desire to give voice to trivialities. Rarely did they make noise over important matters. I have watched men argue and fists fly over a game of darts and the question of fair play; watched those same men turn their backs as a woman was stoned in the street. I used to believe that was shame. Other times I attributed it to cowardice. But it was neither of those things. It was indifference.
Dust kicked up in front of me, shoes scuffed on the roughshod road. Along the way I saw a stray dog and several cats; at times a rat or a squirrel scurried across my path. After quite some time walking, I heard hooves approaching behind me from a distance. They rapidly gained on me.
“Hello, fellow traveller.” A man’s voice, merry, perhaps with liquor. “To where are you travelling on this fine night?”
I stopped and turned, smiling up at the cart. There were two men sat within it.
“I hope to reach the next village before dawn,” I replied, not slowing my pace. The man with the reigns, the one who had spoken, slowed his horse to a trot as he drew level with me, slowing him further to a walk.
“You’ve no hope of reaching it on foot,” the same man said. “You can ride with us the rest of the way.” We had all slowed to a stop. I looked from the spokesman to his less talkative companion.
“As long as it causes you no trouble.”
___
Available as part of the original "Whispers from the Dead of Night" short story collection in ebook and paperback and the deluxe collection in ebook, paperback and hardcover.
Order "Whispers from the Dead of Night"
Order "Whispers from the Dead of Night - The Deluxe Collection"
Visit me on Facebook
Follow me on Twitter
Follow me on Instagram
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