Friday, December 13, 2013

Guest Jones: Carys Jones

Carys Jones was born in Shropshire, England. She displayed a passion for writing from a young age, spending her time creating short stories and poems. Carys later went on to study Creative Writing at University level. Her first book, Not All Stars Sparkle, was released in October 2010 and was a finalist for The People's Book Prize 2013.

Her second novel, Sunkissed, was released in Autumn 2013.

For more information about Carys please visit 
www.carys-jones.com


Friday the 13th


Dr. Moralus’ conduct immediately placed him out of favour with almost the entire community. He was an elderly man, as thin and slender and as grey as a birch tree. His dark eyes regarded people with a strange longing, as though he had just been reminded of a wonderful meal he had enjoyed some years ago. And his gait was cause for concern; he walked around the village with the stealth and silence of a cat and was equally nocturnal. Dr. Moralus would only see patients during the darkness of night, due, he explained, to a rare skin condition which made it impossible for him to go out in the sunlight.

 

The slurs of the locals soon began to follow him around like an unpleasant odour. There were whispers of demons, that he was a satanic creature of the night. But Dr. Moralus took great care of those who did come to him for aide; although he had a penchant for blood letting which he swore would cure even the most severe illness.
 
In honour of it being Friday the 13th, I thought I would share an excerpt from my latest novel, Sunkissed which highlights the superstition felt within the fictional village of Fandova in the story when a new, mysterious doctor comes to town.

I think that we are all superstitious in one way or another. My Mom is always telling me not to walk under ladders, pass on the stairs or put shoes on the table. And if I see a single magpie I must greet him else I risk inviting in bad luck.

A part of me dismisses this as superstitious nonsense, but then that other, illogical side of me, which wants to believe in things greater than ourselves thinks it’s better to abide by the superstitions than to risk incurring the wrath of bad luck.

You can trace the origins of many superstitions. Often, a superstition is in place as an old wife’s tale to keep children safe. Like not passing on the stairs or walking under ladders helps prevent unnecessary trips, falls or accidents. Keeping shoes off tables keeps eating areas clean and germ free.

Greeting a magpie comes from an old children’s nursery rhyme. So none of the superstitions which were passed down to me derive from any concrete evidence. There is no proof that my luck will turn bad if I don’t abide by them, yet each time I meet someone on the stairs I turn back, or say Hello Mister Magpie to the solitary bird, because you know, just in case…

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