Chapter 1 (part 1).

I hope you enjoyed the lost chapter of the original story of Hollyhocks as much as I enjoyed sharing it with you! I'd like to compare that chapter with the first chapter of Beyond The Veil and I'd love to know what you think. I know this is a pretty lengthy post which is why I've separated the chapter into two parts - hopefully you find this interesting enough to even want to read the second part. Please remember that this is still the rough draft! ;)

Chapter 1.

Imagine with me, Dear Reader, a world very different from the one in which you live. Not a world with smooth paved roads or fancy cars. Not a world where your best friend is a phone call away. Not a world where every bit of information ever recorded is conveniently awaiting you on the other side of a touch. Not a world where you can't even see the horizon and the setting sun, for the skyline is met with tall buildings. No, imagine something not like this at all. Instead, imagine that the earth is still filled with secrets that men have not yet discovered. Imagine that on the northern banks of a river is a massive brick castle which served both as a residence for the royal family and a prison for those whose hands were dirty and whose hearts were stained. The many lifeless windows gazed across the countryside that lay before it. Four towers whose tall pointed heads are reaching high into the heavens, overlooking a city known as London. The castle is dark and dismal with an almost ominous aura about it, but it is very old and it is very beautiful. In Westminster Abbey a child is being born, a baby boy who is destined to one day reign over Great Britain.

Now far far away, past streams and rivers, over hills and through grasslands, imagine that at the edge of a mountain there are quaint country cottages in the midst of wildflowers with a flowing river passing through and a stone bridge leading from a dusty dirt road to a cobblestone street. On either side of this street are a diversity of shops and businessmen with plenty of goods to be traded. Yet, the streets are empty. Not a soul is to be seen, not a single light is lit, and the village is peacefully quiet. A gentle breeze is blowing, causing the thatched roofs to lightly rustle and the flowers to sway back and forth, like mysterious waves across the ocean. 

The land is lit by our Good Friend, very dear to all who behold him, the Moon. Look at him as he sits up in the sky, proudly showing off his radiant gleam. But notice also that the stars are very cheerful and excited on this night. Perched up in the sky, they must know something that others do not. It is a fact that one star, one that is not known to the eyes of man, got so excited that he couldn't help himself, and just to get a better look at what was happening, he burst and shot himself down to the earth, only to be burnt out. Some didn't care, some simply didn't notice, and some will miss him.

To get our heads out of the sky, let me now say that also on the edge of the village, just to the West, is a dark forest. The people in these parts know it as the Lost Forest not because the forest was lost, oh dear no! But because those weary travelers who dared to pass through got lost; because there were tales of men who went into the forest and never came out. The Forest did not like travelers. The Forest did not like travelers at all. Of course you may be wondering why this is. The Forest was not all bad, in fact it was very protective. It had to be because it was very very very old and many secrets it had to hide. Some say that when you get nigh the edge of it, you can hear faint whispers, and screeches and strange animal sounds. There are those who believe that evil spirits are warning outsiders not to enter, there are those who believe that some sort of witchcraft is brewing inside.

There was no witchcraft in the Forest. But there were many strange and beautiful creatures. Screeching owls and hungry wolves. Skittish unicorns. Many different birds with many different calls and chirps and songs to be sung. And there are spirits. Not evil transparent ghosts with chains. They are tree spirits, dryads as they are called. They are the soul of the tree. Unlike a human soul, a tree spirit can leave it's body whenever it wants, but only for short periods at a time. If you listen to the wind, you can hear soft whisperings. This is how they communicate to one another, using a lost language once known to man, now understood only by the fairies and the dryads themselves.

Of the fairies, there are three different kinds of which inhabit the Forest. First, and strangest of them all, are the hobgoblins. The size of a small child, but hairy like a beast, with the face of an elderly man, they are able to shape-shift. Though pleasant enough, they can be very ill-mannered, bad tempered, and greedy. They spend nearly every night in the village, never taking anything without having first earned their loot.

Second are the pixies - tiny human-like figures with large pointed ears, wild eyes filled with childish glee, and feet that carry them as swift as that of a hunted fox. Pixies are mischievous beings who delight in deliberately tormenting and misleading people, sometimes with the use of magic, sometimes not.

Last are the sprites. Perhaps the most beautiful of all for reasons not only in appearance, but also in manner. They are very kind-hearted, caring, and innocent by nature. They too resembled humans, except for their pale almost translucent soft skin, and their elegant gossamer wings protruding from their backs. The fairies all lived at peace with one another for the most part, but unlike the hobgoblins and the pixies, the sprites avoided all human contact. The magic they worked was very important and like nothing else to behold. Nothing short than the work of a skillful artist, they painted the leaves in the autumn, carefully but swiftly, though not too swift; they enjoyed to make the autumn last before the winter came upon them and carried the leaves away in the wind.

Part 2 coming tomorrow! ;)