First book edits

Chapter 1 

Living In The Town (Shy Violet)

The day had dawned grey and now closed the curtain in fast receding darkness that crept over the distant rooftops with the stealth of a silent beast. A day in late August was coming to a close. The fading colours of streaking light barely reached through the windows of the residents. Silent were the afternoons of a chilling summer. Chilling was an understatement, but it was only to be expected regarding the position of the town itself; sunken deep, near to the floor of a heavy-sided valley, sheltered by many a precipice and rocky ledge at high altitudes shielding it from the direct shot of the sun’s rays and restricting hours of sunlight. 

Frost had formed itself along the windowsill and frame outside. Tiny crystals and needle teeth festered along with the rotten splintered wood, glistening like glamorous jewels. Collections of hoarfrost also had embedded themselves in the corners of the glass, making it cold to the touch and causing the glass pane to creak and crackle. The entire house seemed to be in a hardened state of shock as if the cold had got into its core, freezing the very foundations. 

All of this was observed and felt by Violet. She had sat in a rough high-backed armchair turned towards the wideset windows. Her head was tilted to the side, inclining the unseasonal elements, while her eyes were focused on her lap where a book rested. Her long flowing hair covered parts of her young face, lightened by the setting sun it glowed a dirty gold though in truth her hair was of the darkest ebony and as thick as twisted rope. Her eyes sparkled out an ocean-blue through the curtain of her locks yet there was a hollow look around them; smudged rings, although clear, matched the dark shadows that always seemed to be cast over her dour face. 

This morose behaviour of hers was commonplace as far as her family was concerned and sometimes, more than often by her mother, it was ignored or simply went unnoticed. At best Violet was considered as one who always had her head in the clouds, at worst she was regarded as a waste of space. The family members often avoided each other perfectly, scheduled timings to avoid each other's company, or else they would purposely seek each other out for frequent confrontation. And as it was so uncommon for Violet to station herself within the living room in such a clear view and so susceptible to interruption, her brother noticed this immediately. Glowering in the doorway, Johann lingered. His face was dirty having just returned from work, a smirk was playing on his prominent features, his meaty hands flexing.

‘Violet!' He suddenly blurted out, stepping in front of her and blocking her view of the window. Violet stirred at her brother's voice, but only lightly like the twitch of an animal composed.  'I am surprised to see you here this evening!'

His voice rang like a deep echo but was husky and sounded hoarse as if his vocal cords did not wish him to speak at all. Johann was only five years ahead of Violet but seemed a great deal older due to his height and much sturdier stature. He possessed a proportional stocky frame with wide set-back shoulders and strong limbs, he towered over most of his peers and his sneering expressions added to his intimidating appearance. Violet on the other hand was small, petite even, and very thin. She was long-bodied with bony joints and wasted muscle but was fast and wiry when the moment called for it. In comparison, Johann seemed like the child who had most definitely thrived - yet, sometimes one could notice something weak about his stature, like the stubborn tougher outer layer was only a shield against a vulnerable underbelly; and this Achilles’ heel was always unequivocally exposed to his sister. 

Johann’s greasy dark hair also lay tousled over his face, strands combing across his small forehead, his stone-black irises piercing like razor mountain ridges and as menacing. His expression remained tense and his body poised as he surveyed his sister. The partition between the two stretched to a screeching blankness, breaching the gap of filial love. Invisible creatures seemed to claw at the air before the siblings, scraping a void that could not be leapt. 

Violet could barely find it in herself to suffer a reply. Her pupils kept flickering back and forth from the outside view to Johann and back, quivering with undecided perception. Her lips mouthed words but it took a long duration before Violet could vocalise them. 

‘What does it matter to you?' 

‘I thought you were the one who revelled in outdoor pursuits,' Johann continued sniggering, 'Your “adventures.”’

‘You know nothing of me.' Violet, tried to steady her tone but her words were like an awful taste in her mouth.

‘No…’ Johann continued, his expression serious but his eyes twinkled with amusement. ‘I have seen you dancing…’Violet looked up bewildered, the blood in her veins pumping fast, ‘...at night in the rain.’

Johann grinned widely revealing his teeth, his least desirable trait. Violet glared at him, her cheeks flushed but it was hardly with embarrassment. Triumph played on her brother’s lips, his eyes still glistening, but Violet’s mouth curled in revulsion and her own eyes blazed.

Suddenly a light flashed across Violet's vision and the room grew dim; the ordinary sights of the day were fading and the sky grew blacker and blacker as though the slow sunset had plunged into the ocean. Rings of red and images of the rippling rivers cascaded in Violet’s mind, and a drenching downpour covered and coated the town in the rain that landed as blood. The torrents of red were falling from the Heavens onto Violet’s body as she found herself standing in the centre of the typhoon witnessing images of countless bodies lying in the streets. And in that moment she did feel like dancing.  

Violet blinked and the room reappeared before her; in truth, rain had now started to patter on the windowpane. Johann was no longer smiling. The corners of his mouth sagged downwards in a child-like way, the heavy crease of his brow scrunching his eyes which returned the violent retort but there was an unreadable element - fear? He stepped back a little, stumbling on his distinctive limp. Violet was vacant once again, hands now gripping the worn upholstery tightly and looking markedly downward. 

'Freak.' Johann said in a barely heard murmur and turned away from her, then, in a hurried swinging of his clothes and stamping boots, he exited the room a lot quicker than he had entered. Just as he left Violet’s mother entered screaming.

‘You devilish children! Why do you torment me so? Johann? Johann! Where is my tonic?” Gretchen Revenal stood in the centre of the room, breathing rapidly. She looked haggard; her gravel-coloured hair haloed her head, her eyes were like dark holes set back in her skull and she stared around the room in an apparent daze. 

‘Violet? Violet!” Her vision scanned in Violet’s direction but she did not seem to register her presence. Violet swallowed hard and ripped her eyes away from her lap to look at the dishevelled woman; the room was marginally gloomier.

‘Mother?’ Violet spoke clearly but in a quietened tone. Gretchen started dramatically and looked over at her daughter, her confusion quickly turning into displeasure. 

‘Child,’ she barked out, ‘wherein hell is my toxic? Do not defy me; I know Johann and yourself have been indulging yourselves.’ 

‘Your habits don't have anything to do with me.'

‘Watch your mouth girl,' Gretchen spat at Violet, shaking a bony finger, 'Don't you go thinking you are any better than anyone here. You are the very deadweight that causes your family so much grief!' Violet made no reaction, staring back at her mother calmly, her eyes so intense that Gretchen found herself looking away. Violet felt sure her mother was going to start one of her tirades but a heavy silence passed between them which lingered like ringing metal. 

Violet always felt sickened in the presence of her incessant and indulgent mother, but today she barely had any patience. Gretchen was forever out of touch with reality, just a suspended ghost never truly aware of her surroundings or the people around her. She was continuously disconnected from the days, weeks and even time itself it seemed. Gretchen’s tonic, of course, was strong laudanum and each day more and more was ingested that Violet hoped it would soon kill her. But even that relief would inevitably lead to more problems. Therefore, their mother was an unpleasantness that Johann and Violet were forced to endure, while their father was not present at least. Before the disquiet between them got too much to bear, the front porch door suddenly swung inwards hitting the wooden panels hard and making the rusty hinges scream. Violet started abruptly but this time her mother made barely any reaction. Then they heard the jarring weighty thuds that were Marcus Revenal’s leather labour-worn boots.

 His footsteps were unmistakable; fast and heavy - bulk weight slamming down on the old boards with such force it seemed as if he would go through the floor. Gretchen became animated and she darted out of the room with surprising agility. Now alone, Violet grimaced bringing her knees in and up against her chest and hugging herself, instantly regretting her reclining station. It seemed as if her very presence in such an uncharacteristic position had caused a disruption with everyone in the family and now they were all colliding. Violet could now hear Marcus' commanding voice, shouting inaudible words from out in the lobby and moving towards the kitchen. Gretchen’s voice was then heard, a hysterical squeal compared to her husband's. Her Father continued his journey throughout the house, his path marked clearly as he crashed from each room to the next. Violet quietened her breathing and remained motionless; if her Father should hear her he would enter and stand before her willing for her to do his wishes and perform a child’s affections upon him. This nauseating pretence would force Violet’s stomach to grow steadily sicker and she knew it would be difficult to secrete her repulsion. 

Marcus Revenal was an unassuming man, a character of very basic emotions and actions; you could look right through him as clear as glass and see all his cogs and mechanisms clinking, restricted in design though they were. He had not the intelligence of deceit or art of trickery like his son, only physical strength and a hostile attitude to prove his authority. His occupation, therefore, came naturally to him. He worked down the mine shafts where duties involved physical labour, endurance and barking orders, all of which he was gifted at from family practice. He ruled with a literal iron fist, many had the marks to prove it, and he considered himself a forceful controller over his minors – particularly his offspring. Of course, Violet did not see her father in any way that he assumed: to her, he represented overpowering masculinity in its decline; a violent brute. And yet he possessed elements of something she could have once cared about, but now what remained was utterly destroyed and left to die away many years ago. However, Violet had far greater respect for her father than for her mother.  

Fortune prevailed and her father did not come into the room. His bellowing now travelling back to the main door, followed by the squawking of her mother. Violet shut her eyes but there was no fight to come. Then her Father left much in the same fashion as he arrived –  shaking the house on its roots. Violet’s chest did not loosen. A furious, sick worry enclosed in on her – thick and choking her, like a gloved hand over her nose and mouth. A sigh shuddered through Violet, a quivering gasp coming up from the bellows and wriggling out of through her throat. The night was rapidly consuming the rest of the bronze sky, eating its way through all remaining streaks of fire. Radiant colours as vivid as vibrant pastel were all dying in darkness and the wake of the sinking sun; the dark that swallowed the Town would bring the shadows alive.

Violet sat still, her teeth clenched and muscles shaking, praying her mother would retreat to her room or go out for the evening. Even now Gretchen's position was too close and her essence of squalor remained. Violet shifted uncomfortably in her chair, pressing her spine against the backboard, trying to return to her previous thoughts. Presently, she found herself reminiscing the week that had passed and began slowly retreating within the memories. Her reflection in the now darkened glass of the window looked morphed and altered, reminding her acutely of the face of her companion; Mariah. The two had spent some time together recently, mainly involved in idle pursuits. As she recalled, later past noon Mariah and herself had discarded meaningless activities and had travelled to the main section of the town to engage and tempt people to purchase the items Mariah had to offer.  Though she cannot remember precisely what it was she had been selling. 

The two girls had spent many a day together since childhood and had grown accustomed to each other’s ways, but over the years their childish bond had become fraught, becoming so different in ideals and manner that it now seemed only a tolerance. In the same way that the adolescent grows into an adult and childhood memories seem but a distant glimmer, hazy and indistinct - impossible to recapture or reinvent, another world beheld with wistfulness over the pass of time and regarded with some apathy. Unfortunately, this time little profit was made from Mariah's endeavours –  the streets were fairly deserted and even the usual suspects and stragglers were nowhere to be found so they soon retired and had wandered off, passing through the tall rye fields as it was the quickest route to their houses. The scene materialised before Violet’s eyes as she sat in the fading light; her senses hyped by the ambience of her memory. 

Mariah walked with a wide determined stride, her tall willowy frame projecting her ahead of her friend. The back of her dress fluttered while the front hem clung to her slender legs, her light brown stringy hair whipped around her thin face and the reeds around them bowed in the wind as it glided through the fields. Violet trailed behind, walking in a series of hurried footsteps, almost too many at once making her look as if she would trip over the uneven ground. She had been looking towards the horizon with misty sight; the whims of the world were an utter void of distance and thoughts were beyond her, as if she were within a dream. Mariah spoke lightly of sweet nothings, and her usual sharp tone drifted over Violet like natural music. Mariah had kept the supplies they had not sold within a leather strap bag, fastened around the waistband of her black layered dress with a buckled belt. Mariah had suggested consuming some of the unsold products but both parties had become too lethargic by the dull afternoon. Even Mariah even seemed restlessly irritated as Violet fell further behind, making no effort to keep up. 

‘Violet! These days you are forever detached!’ Mariah suddenly exclaimed, stopping and turning round to face Violet. ‘Removed, withdrawing and ignoring everyone! What is wrong with you?’ Violet took a moment to reply, Mariah’s inquiry rearranging itself in her head. Mariah was the only person she spoke to anymore.

‘Nothing.' She eventually uttered, stopping a few feet behind her friend and looking at her dusty boots. 'It may be that I am finding myself detached from everything.’ Mariah watched her companion carefully, scanning Violet fixedly.

‘Everything appears as beauty upon the surface, do you not think?’ Violet asked after a moment, gesturing around her at the grey spindly reeds. The stalks were freckled with bits of frost like shrapnel pieces, their needles pointing up at the glacial sky stretching above them.

‘But upon second glance or close observation, it all is ugly and empty.’ Mariah frowned in confusion but it quickly changed to alarm as Violet spoke in a monotone, robbed of all visible emotion. It was as if the words and thoughts were just bleeding through a shell, and in truth, Violet had felt like she had not been there. Mariah kept quiet but Violet said nothing more and fell into her usual silence. The two resumed walking, heading through the last of the remaining fields and reaching the backyard of the vast warehouses consecutively running along the outskirts of the streets. The entire area was covered in copious amounts of wild thickets, thorn bushes (at times it was a struggle to pick their way through) and a few meadows of fallow land for the remaining animals to graze on. 

The conversation could not have been rekindled. Both travelled into the mud-sodden cobbled streets where they separated to return to their houses. Violet recalls herself pausing at the corner, one leading forward right towards Blackthorn and down left towards the more derelict buildings and down to the steep canyon with its deep sunken rocks like jagged teeth. Although the day was already terrible cold, Violet desperately did not want to go home. 

At home in the present day, the night was now at its fullest. Violet gripped the fabric of the chair arms, pressing down until she could feel the rigid bone of the wood beneath it. For reasons, she could not comprehend a riotous terror dominated her and threatened panic. This had happened before, many a time, but each episode felt like it tore open a fresh wound; one that could not be stanched. The entire week's ordeal flooded back into her system at speed. To her horror she saw the world outside crumble before her eyes; the Town blistered and spat like the blood of a demon was circulating through its veins; the sight of her friend’s daunt expression, the look of trepidation on Johann’s face, her mother’s rancorous words aimed at her children, her father's tyrannical footsteps… Everything felt as if it was falling from her grasp in a strange and sudden moment – Like a phantom fear was ripping all forms of reason and recognition from her, and all of a sudden bemusement transformed to bewildering fright!  

*

Violet vomited into the shallow sink. Clutching onto the porcelain sides with shaking hands, her head ducked and reeled sending tremors down the core of her spine nearly making her muscles convulse. She turned on the green-stained copper tap; it screeched, she cupped her hands and threw water over her face and hair. Gasping greatly, she raised her head and straightened her back to view her reflection. She observed a pale spectre gazing back with bloodshot eyes. Her skin was ivory white and speckled with drops of water like a cold sweat had broken through her pores. Inside her head, it thundered faintly like a storm sounding from a distance, and her vision flashed and dipped. The small dank bathroom swayed in and out of sight as her eyes rolled, the white-tiled room glowed; cracked grey with the stripes of light spilling in from the other candlelit rooms. Violet slammed her palms against the sides of her head and screwed her eyes tight shut. Leave me alone. What are you trying to tell me? Please, leave me alone! LEAVE ME!

Violet backed up and faltered nearly falling to the floor, reaching onto the steel tub for support. Her head bowed as she prayed to be rid of this faux fear. Facing down, her eyes caught sight of the book she was reading, open on an empty page. Violet’s eyes widened incredulously and terror swarmed her mind as she noticed a tiny scribbled note at the bottom of the page in her own handwriting.    

In twelve days…