Books and Fantasy Stories by
PATRICIA SHANNON
More Stories
Christmas Eve. A tired Carol stares out the window overlooking the street. Her husband had to work, leaving her to finish all the Christmas preparations by herself. She sighs. Her lips tremble. She pulls herself together. She has to go on in high spirits. It’s Christmas, a time of family gatherings, lots of love and cheers.
She caresses her belly which by now looks like a big balloon. She feels the gentle kicking of her first child, due in the New Year. With an affectionate smile she whispers; “Just have more patience little one. Only a few more weeks to go before I'll hold you in my arms and comfort you.”
As if her child wants to respond, it kicks with vigor.
Pain ends her daydreaming. Woe after woe follows.
Adie MacPherson will never forget the night it happened. He stayed at his uncle’s castle at Dunrobin, on the banks of the River Avon, in the Scottish Highlands.
There's a gust of wind and the air fills with a dense, red mist. Out of the mist, an impressive figure dooms up. His beard reaching the ground. He wears a long dark purple velvet robe.
