by Terry Kitto
A volunteer offered them mulled cider. The three kindly refused. Sam watched the embers that were spat out by amber tongues. She knew he thirsted for narcotics, but his sobriety conquered. He admitted that he often thought of Will. It was how he healed, he said, and it was how he had found strength. To think of her family, with Haya’s notes on her person, helped Rasha in her dark moments as well. Trish sat in her wheelchair, her lap blanketed, and looked into space as if numb to the fury of the bonfire. Rasha wondered whether a little of her still remained in the ombrederi – if she hadn’t fully returned to her body.
Between both women, Sam took their hands in his. They looked amongst one another with harmonious expressions. That night was their last together before the adults moved north. Trish and Sam had picked up a lead – multiple, in fact – of the Hive in Greater Manchester, an organisation whose activity threatened the ombrederi-physical balance. After much internet research, they’d discovered it was funded by the Edward Penrose Trust. They had asked Rasha to go, and she really wanted to, but she and Haya had been granted full citizenship that month, and Cornwall had become home – ‘Thanks to you guys!’ she’d made sure to add. So that winter was their last together. Rasha would finish her GCSEs, go to college, and work part-time at the computer repair shop, a pound above minimum wage.
Yes, for she’d learnt that being present was the best she could do. That night was theirs, and when she woke in the morning she would face that day, and the next day, and the next. They were moments, after all – many joyous, some tough. She had Haya’s daily notes, and Sam, and Trish.
Rasha had her tomorrow, and a chance to do better, and be kinder, and love furiously.
She’d make herself a home.
Acknowledgments
It takes a village to raise a child, but an army to make a book. I would not be where I am today, writing this acknowledgement for my debut, without the effort and support of some fantastic people.
Firstly, a massive thank you to my beta readers: Holly Challinor, Deborah Challinor, Beth Kitto, Jackie Burnard, Adam Hammond, Katherine Mycock, Emily Palmieri, Charlotte Johnson and Natalie Lukes. Without you, the story wouldn’t be what it is today.
A very special mention to Dr Ken George, author of Gerlyver Kernewek Kemmyn, for keeping the Cornish language alive.
To Nathan Beasley Joseph, for a kick ass author photo and your wisdom concerning tin mining.
And finally to you, the reader, who took a chance on me, an indie author, and this book, an unconventional ghost story.
I witness you all.
About the Author
Cornishman Terry Kitto was never found without reading a book or penning one of his own. He took his creativity to Film School at Falmouth University, earning a First Class with Honours and later a PGDiP with the University of Salford.
Noteworthy accolades include Best Writer at the New York 100 Hour Film Contest with Can You See Me? and making the BBC's Writers Room 2016 shortlist with Brunswick House. The Frequency is Terry’s debut novel.
www.terrykitto.com