Anita Dawes picked the two words for you to choose your synonyms from. Opposites are so fun to work with. I can’t wait to see what you come up with!
Here are your two words:
“BLESSED & HEX”
Dark Shadows Upon me By evil eye Sacred ground I seek Holy blessings I need With consecrated water Sorcery follows dark footsteps Leading me by bewitching shadows To bury this black curse on hallowed ground…
Living in misery Attended by misery and woes Inferior in performance or quality Very unpleasant: deplorable
For the past two weeks, it has been a case of all the above, since Anita, the head of our family had a nasty heart attack. She also had pneumonia, which was complicating matters even further, but due to the corona virus lockdown, we were not allowed to visit her in the hospital.
So for seven miserable and wretched days we worried our socks off at home, wondering what was going on and how Anita was feeling.
On the third day, we managed to acquire the number of the telephone, which was conveniently right next to Anita’s bed, which enabled us to speak to her and find out how she was feeling and what had been happening. This contact was a godsend for all of us and went a long way to keeping us from self-detonating!
Anita is back home now, but the misery is still present, although not as intense as it was before, as she is still very ill. She has extensive damage to her heart and as yet no way of knowing the exact prognosis. There is a waiting list for the MRI which will ascertain the damage, but until that day arrives, wretched will unfortunately be the order of the day…
Dark clouds cross my horizon Screaming with want I dread the crash at their journeys end I inhale, hold my breath No air in my lungs to shout, to scream As the room fades around me I feel no panic as giant dust clouds creep towards me A strange billowing entity Now I feel it, the silence inside my soul…
Welcome to my mind The cold, dark, often empty place Until the voices start Then it’s as if I’ve been fed liquid bliss The world inside becomes rainbow bright People I have known all my life, changed. I don’t recognise their shining faces Their pleasant ways, so happy Did they feed on an overdose of sugar pills? Ghosts of their former selves Wound up, let go, clockwork toys The other side of the coin lets the dark out I can see black clouds above their heads I feel the need to run, but where to? How to get outside my head? Walking the streets I saw ghouls, ghosts Floating above the people They walk backwards in front of them Trying to touch, teasing, pulling faces Trying to get their attention This is where my darkness lives Inside my head The dead watch me with envious eyes…
A father’s secret… a mother’s lie… a family mystery. An unexpected phone call – and Nina’s life takes a disturbing twist. Who is John Moore? And how does he know her name? Nina travels south to see the house she inherited, but sinister letters arrive and she finds herself in the middle of a police investigation. With her identity called into question, Nina uncovers a shocking crime. But what, exactly, happened in the attic room, all those years ago? The answer could lie close to home.
A fast-moving, chilling suspense novel by the author of The Cold Cold Sea, The Paradise Trees , Chosen Child, and others.
The Attic Room is the first book I have read by Linda Huber, although most of her books are on my reading list as I love psychological thrillers, and this is one of the best!
Just weeks after her mother dies, Nina is told of another death, only this man is a stranger. A stranger who had left her his house, a large depressing building that might reveal a clue as to who he was, and why he knew her.
This was where the tension began to grow into a strangle hold, as the mysterious secrets begin to unfold. The atmosphere of the house, leaking it’s evil memories of the past came through strongly and chilled me to the bone.
Beautifully written and superbly plotted, I thoroughly enjoyed The Attic Room…
The Attic Room is mostly told from the point of view of Nina who is struggling with having just lost her mother, Claire, and who lives with her daughter Naomi on the beautiful Isle of Arran. She gets a telephone call which turns her world upside down and has to head off to Bedford to try and uncover what appears to be a family secret, the truth of which has died along with her mother.
Nina knows nothing of any extended family she may have and is keen to find out more but when she does she is in for an unpleasant discovery. It is a surprise that Claire never told her the truth however unpalatable but I can understand how that can happen. You always think one day I shall tell them then something can happen which snatches that chance away from you. I liked the chapters told from Claire’s point of view which filled in some of the gaps for the readers, if not for Nina.
I enjoyed the settings in this book. I love the thought of Arran, and while I intend on making it there one day I already know the second setting, Bedford, very well. Not as idyllic perhaps but I liked picturing the locations and knew just where the house that Nina inherits is located.
I fell asleep in my own bed, woke in another Spent the night with a beautiful woman Too soon, I found myself back in my own bed Hugging air, wishing there were a way to make the dream world a reality in my own time. Realising this would take more than the magic wand of Merlin to accomplish My footsteps became heavy, my day dull. The voice in the back of my head A tormenting whisper, telling me There is a way to stay beside her That is when I remembered the date of the newspaper on the side table, two years from now, I will meet my future wife. All I need now, is a way to speed time forward…
A charming ne’er-do-well returns to his haunted Irish hometown to uncover the truth about his mother in this “supernaturally skilled debut” (Vanity Fair) and turns the town–and his life–upside down.
Having been abandoned at an orphanage as a baby, Mahony assumed all his life that his mother wanted nothing to do with him. That is, until one night in 1976 while drinking a pint at a Dublin pub, he receives an anonymous note implying that she may have been forced to give him up. Determined to find out what really happened, Mahony embarks on a pilgrimage back to his hometown, the rural village of Mulderrig. Neither he nor Mulderrig can possibly prepare for what’s in store…
From the moment he arrives, Mahony’s presence completely changes the village. Women fall all over themselves. The real and the fantastic are blurred. Chatty ghosts rise from their graves with secrets to tell, and local preacher Father Quinn will do anything to get rid of the slippery young man who is threatening the moral purity of his parish.
A spectacular new addition to the grand Irish storytelling tradition, Himself “is a darkly comic tale of murder, intrigue, haunting and illegitimacy…wickedly funny” (Daily Express).
From the first word of the powerfully written prologue, I couldn’t stop reading Himself.
I fell completely under the spell of this mysterious story, all about the living and the dead and the search for truth in a quaint Irish village.
The star of Himself is Mahony, a young Irishman searching for the truth about his birth, assisted by the colourful characters and ghosts in Mulderrig, a place with more secrets and mysteries than most.
I loved the way the people in this story speak, such wonderful vocabulary and fascinating insight into the minds of Irish people. What at first seems light-hearted banter, soon changes into dark, menacing humour and a terrifying journey as Mahony uncovers the truth he seeks…
For visually challenged writers, theimage shows a sky full of dark, stormy clouds against which four large birds are silhouetted in flight.
Dark clouds Dark fallen angels Painted by my father Locked for weeks inside his studio I would leave food outside Never see it vanish Empty plates returned the same way As if by magic My father had become invisible to me All but his voice. Like the four horsemen Let these black winged creatures Enter our world Hearing his voice this way Gave me the chills. Could my father be calling evil into the world? After he died, mother said We should burn it Send whatever thoughts he had Back to where they came from. I could not. The painting hangs in my studio Where I hear my father’s voice As I paint dark clouds…
History speaks of war Souls lost to man’s envy Rights demanded for this and that With no platform The desperate, the outnumbered The small voices never heard Dismaying, forcing me to pray Words feathered into dust Hope jeopardised by the threat Of history repeating itself Unless we put a stop to it now…