Book 1, Skeins of Tyme
Life can be seen as a tapestry of tightly woven threads, each thread linking everything in the web of life, then a darkening colour, a harsh sound, a haunting cry, rippled through the warp and weft to vibrate the threads of time.
Ancient and mysterious bones, discovered on the Yorkshire Wolds hold a secret hidden for centuries, which must not be revealed.
A Grove of Wytches meet to celebrate the Mabon Rite of Equinox in Australia but strange energies are afoot that go beyond mortal comprehension.
Four young women are brought together in the little Spa town of Springsmeet to work out the riddle of the inexplicable disappearance of their friend and teacher of the Old Ways; a celebrated writer and lecturer.
One, a gifted seer, musician and weaver, will learn of her ancestry long concealed in the veil …one will learn of her natural gifts as an artist and writer …one will be the gentle guide and healer who nurtures and supports everyone but herself and one must fight to control the anger and pain from the past, to temper and hone it into a tool of great compassion.
All must learn to believe in their own gifts and in the Magick their teacher showed them …to travel the portals into the realms where the Fae reside at the times of the year when the veil is thin and the Old Ones walk the land.
Many will step forward to aid them in their search as blight spreads sticky dark threads across all the realms to the Birthing Tree where all life must return one day and where for one of them the greatest test to face is that Magick might indeed be real…
…they must travel the inner realms to discover the truths of life itself.
Book 2, Grey Weavings
When I first began to work with the processes of storytelling, I was aware of the potency that stories hold in the human psyche.
We are governed by the store of images and symbols that allow us to connect the dots whenever they are triggered.
“Once upon a time,” for instance, everyone immediately recognises as a commencement to a story and shifts perhaps in their mind, to a rainy day by the fire with a good tale or a favourite yarn, told as a bedtime treat.
Even as adults we have certain fantasy stories that kindle memories or inspiration within …Lord of the Rings …Harry Potter …worlds apart in their time of creation and yet they hold sway in our image bank equally.My characters wrote themselves with the help of the most predominant voice and image in my head, namely Silver. I call her my true self, my wiser self and it’s through her that these books came about. To wake with a song line ready to write down or a twist in the plot unfathomable before sleep, is a gift indeed. As a Hedgewitch, a Pagan, I respect the otherworldly influences that can make a somewhat complex process a little simpler.
My aim has been to give readers an opportunity to search their own psyche for the triggers in the books, hidden within the plot and storyline …an opportunity to see the planet through different eyes and to hear the cries for help, not from her for she can look after herself, but from deep within ourselves.
We do all know that without Her we cannot survive and if we continue on the current path of, “having” over being, of consumerism rather than “how much is enough,” …then indeed we may not…
Grey Weavings …the story so far…
Slender Silver Birch whispered secrets to a flock of noisy sparrows, arrowing like darts into the depths of ancient twisted limbs; the last leaves clinging stubbornly, shaken loose circling, drifting down to join their sibling on the earth to begin the journey to mulch-hood.
It was cold but the sounds of nature were undiminished; a raven’s caw, a kookaburra’s contagious chuckle and the sweet, melodic call of a thrush echoed across the garden to the silent group sitting beneath the canopy of branches, soaking up the sun’s last warmth before winter’s final grip held the earth in stasis.
Flora, Samantha, Maeve and the group who had assembled around them were tired and confused, not knowing if the outcome of their ritual, woven with the intention to find Sybille on Samhain eve had been successful and knowing that much rode on it.
They had all witnessed things they could not put name to and so much more had to their frustration, been hidden from sight as they stood backs turned to the events unfolding in the circle.
Who was the small creature, Maeve saw watching her with such cold intensity? Where did Bethan go in that brief moment she vanished? Who are the enigmatic Dark Fae, waiting in the wings for any of them to make just one small slip?
Ddare you walk the between, in the places unseen. Will you dare to engage with your shade Will you walk, will you stray …senses lost on the way. With the mists calling home …will you wander alone …dare you walk the between unafraid.
…the story continues after the Samhain Rite
Book 3, Warp and Weft
I am always surprised when I begin or continue a story, how the flow increases the more I apply myself. I didn’t imagine when I set out on this journey that it would be so extraordinary. Dreams have become vivid, and my peripheral vision flickers of the ‘other realms’, magnified.
Many friends and readers of my books have shared that they are experiencing strange and fascinating things, as the perceived veil between this world and other realms, thin to the point of almost non-existence.
Are these the changes we can expect? Have the prophecies of the Mayan, the Navaho, the Celt, Nostradamus or Ramtha been, not about apocalyptic endings of the planetary systems but an increasing pressure on our senses, forcing us to wake up and realise, we are not alone? That we are not as important as we have perhaps led ourselves to believe; there again, if everything is now then everything is affected by us, what we think, say, feel and as a result, do.
My work is about that very thing, those experiences that so many have ignored, through embarrassment of what others may say, through fear that Magick is real, hidden away, waiting to be released from within each of us.
Why do we fear our own powers? When did we first think that they were something bad, to be buried like treasure hordes for aeons?
When did we believe the tales of our ‘fall from Grace?’ When did the gentle teachings of so many evolved beings become twisted into a mockery of what they, in actuality, said?
Why did the Wytch become the scapegoat for all the fear that humankind had of the women and men who knew the keys to healing, the plants to cure and the words to mend? What indeed, happened to the Cunningmen and the Druid healers of old, the Ovate, male and female alike, who were the teachers of their time in herbal lore and psychic phenomena, the walkers between the worlds?
When did we forget the Pantheon of Spirit who helped us to create ourselves, and forget we carry the same seed-spark that created them? Our only fall was into matter, “Mata,” the Mother and it is in Her embrace we have always lived, together with the animator’s flame of the wild forest, the Spirit of Place; indeed wasn’t that our choice too?
If they exist then in truth we can awaken, we can remember all that we are, not in an egocentric or hierarchical manner, but in sheer awe and delight at our own magnificence as creatures born of darkness and light, matter and spirit and of joy not fear.
Wake up humankin, wake up, celebrate the truth of yourselves; know that you have always been and will be loved, not in the human, confined, controlling understanding of love, but in the truly liberating kind …unconditionally.
…walk with Beth, Sam, Flora and Maeve as they continue the search for Sybille who mysteriously vanished 18 months ago
…Arianwen speaks of Magicks and the land
“Magick feeds the land and the land feeds our Magicks,” she sang. “Humankin have forgotten to believe and so our power diminishes as too, will the essence of the Mother. Soon they will wonder why their earth realm is suffering dire change and in turn so must they. Change or die. Like us disappear into the threads beyond time.
This realm will only be inhabited by those who appreciate their own powers of co-creation with the Mother and with us and who have the ability to project in all directions to restore the earth plane they believe is reality.
It is only one among many but which will they choose as their truth; one with anger, revenge, regret, fear and deceit or a planet where light and the Mother’s Magicks return to empower the land again,’ and the tears of the small creature dried and the Maker was gone.
…she was otter, dragonfly, leaf sprite, a breath of air, a droplet of water vapour, a tidal pool of emotion. She knew no differentiation between herself and all that is for she was…All That Is.
…the journey continues…
Book 4, Silken Web
…the story so far
The warp and weft of the threads of time begin to unravel, as seemingly random events bring the group closer together and yet geographically, spread further apart. New energies have joined the quest to find Sybille.
The Greenman Ways store, opened at Samhain in the UK, Beltane in Australia and the group travelled the Between, to help with the set up. This keeps them all on their toes as the search for Sybille, and now for Nina, continues. They find methods to travel the Between, whether they can shape change their skin or not. Tara, Claire and Lily, are helping where they can. Susan has re-discovered the pathways of old through her paintings and has created a portal from her studio, through a painting, hung in The Greenman Ways in Glastonbury.
New members of the group arrived, Vanessa, Annie Savage’s daughter and Jamie, fox-shapechanger, who has a history with Maeve in the Skeins, yet to unravel. Robert, an old friend and High Priest who worked with Sybille, both professionally and Magickally… who knows where he might fit as the search continues.
James has further knowledge to reveal. Quiet Cal, given a vision by Hercurin that will change the outcome of many things, is sworn to secrecy until the right moment to reveal it.
Sam experienced huge trauma whilst joining with her aspect Magdalena, as she burned alive as a Wytch; they are now one being, as are Annie and the ancient La Stregga who is attempting to awaken Annie from her intolerant arrogance. La Stregga is trying to compensate for her own unforgivable misdemeanour of oath breaking, in the fear for her own safety that revealed Magdalena. She dies as Magdalena burns, slamming though the veil into Annie, reuniting them as one. Aelish has no mercy for their mutual weaknesses.
Bethan has more questions about how her mother died and what part her Fae father, Aithlin has yet to play in the tangled threads. Aerandir has agreed to help find out more as he too attempts to make sense of his fiercely competitive and arrogant mother Aelish, sister to Aithlin.
Within all this, Sybille has still to be found and the blight that threatens the realms of the Fae are becoming more visible to the increasingly sensitive group.
…the story continues
The long-awaited sequel to Warp and Weft …journey now on the Silken Web where, the Wheel of the year has turned twice since Sybille disappeared mysteriously and the women charged with finding her have grown beyond recognition…, as has the group who gathered from all realms to help…
Sam flew through the Aethers, unfettered, free of all human burden and pain. A cool, fragrant wind, ruffled long flight quills, all memory gone, of who or what she was, had been or ever would be, in that moment. Carried under a cloak of musky-sweet feathers; safe, a gentle recall emerged of warm arms and soft down.
Then, something was pulling at her, tugging at her mind insistently; ‘Sam,’ she heard. ‘Sam, come back, it’s not your time to leave.’
An acrid odour seared her nostrils; offensive, as burnt feathers or hair and she fought to maintain her blissful flight away from the realms of pain and dark matters.
A voice grew stronger, this one deeper, a masculine melodic tone; Morgan sang to her, calling her back…
Life is a struggle when we see through the veil
Hands become fragile; skin fair and pale.
Come home from the dreaming… come back to this place
..Now’s no time to travel, come home from this space.
You are a dreamer, one who sees true
Memories awaken …feather’s blue-black hue.
Free flying… falling… then higher you soar
Come home from your dreaming… there is more… so much more.
Come with them on the next stage of the search as Sam learns disturbing and heartbreaking things about her passage through the ‘Between’.
Although my books to date are classified as fiction, where does fiction end and inner experiences become truth? Where do fiction and myth, crossover? How much do we influence our world through our thoughts and dreams, and through the direction of our will for, where your mind goes energy flows, is what I am attempting to express through my work.
As I began this book, I realised how much of me is in all of them. A greater part of me is the wild child Alma as much as the shape shifter and other characters, born of inner meanderings and a search for understanding through the years. If we believe something into being, then indeed we are the co-creators of its birth.
The metaphorical journeys of the characters in this series are a taste perhaps, of what humans are capable of when they let go their fear of change or the unknown that holds them in thrall, through a series of belief systems, they may have embraced through family values and ties, friends, teachers and peers that have become a given. All these learned patterns can be our undoing, unless we can identify what our own beliefs are or, what became ingrained, picked up, so to speak, in the growing years of childhood, which is of course, also dependent on the environment of those growing years.
Each of my characters has a strong intellect but no less a strong belief in other realms of being, whereas so many people in this world have a, if you can’t see it with physical eyes it can’t exist, attitude. I say to people of this nature, “…you can see the trees move but you cannot see the wind”.
I challenge all who read this work of fiction, versus my translation of ideals/ideas, to follow the threads of their own lives and ancestry, not in linear form but in a widespread, far-reaching continuum, for I truly believe nothing really dies, merely changes form.
I’m not all I seem
Let me into your dream
…and I’ll show you the ways between time
But to follow me there first, come to my lair
…and trust me to answer a rhyme
Ask me all you will, I have consummate skill
…to travel all threads of Her song
Remember in truth it is all by your will
…you learn which tone’s right or sings wrong
As the way becomes thin, follow your kin
…as they tread the roadways between
For your not all you seem and if you enter my dream
…I’ll teach you to shape change your skin
Book 5, Skeins of Tyme
Well, Book 5 of my Silver’s Threads series, Skeins of Tyme is now available. I found it the hardest to write as the tale has become deeper and more complex as the journey continued… but here tis!
…the story so far…
How much can one, woman take? Samantha has crashed again and the group surrounding her struggle to stay strong in order to help, whilst the search for Sybille continues. The outcome of the last rite leaves everything in uncertainty.
Three deaths have further added to the trauma of the times, Annie Savage; Vanessa’s mother, Nina and Magdalena, yet joy mingles with tears as Alma and Maeve reunite as sister-friends and mother from another thread; James and Maeve may yet rediscover their bond.
Callum, stronger than ever before, keeps his secret close to his chest but knows the time is approaching to reveal all …he waits for Hercurin’s signal and Vanessa keeps a secret she wishes she could shout from the rooftops.
Now Sam has vanished again, just as her shaper’s bracelet returned to her. What is this twisted thing called fate?
…and so the story continues…
Skeins of Tyme
Threads of Silver, silken fine
Reweaves the web, all souls entwine
A tapestry of life Divine
…upon the Skeins of Tyme
Silvern words, a promise spoken
What was lost is now re-woven
In honouring life, the spell is broken
…to heal the Skeins of Tyme
She the weaver …She the web
Fear’s grip forever fled
Unravelled now …each soul
Each bright, untangled thread
…renews the Skeins of Tyme
Gold and silver intersperse
The web of life and burst
Like stars throughout the Universe
Each delicate note …a soul’s rebirth
…upon the Skeins of Tyme
…Arianwen Isil’Lindir & Aithlin Farandir
…from the Skeins of Tyme
The Wheel spins on the moon, rises bright
…yet darkness prevails in the bounds of night
Sticky webs form and the innocent die
…leaving streaks of light, across a blood-red sky
Aerandir found himself back in the moment at Mabon, when he’d first watched the pseudo-Wytches, sneering as they played their paltry, hierarchical games. He had observed from the edge of the forest on the Mount as Annie Savage stepped toward the bale-fire to catch, what at first appeared to be a falling spark, a firefly like creature.
Now, so much had changed; he had changed. Same moment perhaps but shifted, altered through his own changed attitudes and he had waited for just such an opportunity so many times in his mind as he raced to catch the falling creature. He forgot everything about not showing himself to the Onceborn, about not interfering at their human rites. There was nothing but the need to catch that falling spark of light. As he threw himself in front of Annie, he saw a face in the crowd that had not been there on that night, Vanessa.
On the Lammas thread, Arianwen leapt toward Sam, seeing the fear in her friend’s eyes. She heard in her head Sam’s scream of, “I can’t do this Bethy. It has to end now, tonight,” and as Sam disappeared, she held out the bracelet that could help her friend make the natural shift, it was too late; Sam had no time to grab the proffered bangle. Arianwen, stopped from leaping after her, by the pairs of strong hands that held her back; Morgan shifted and flew.
“I’ll get her.” his words came to her on the wind. “I’ll bring her home,” then he too was gone, followed closely by Pwyll, Jamie and Tara.
Cal only had a moment to prevent Flora from following blindly. He heard Sam’s scream and another; a piercing, terrified shriek as if from far away and the words, “Not again. Oh please, not again.”
Helplessly the rest of the group watched as their friends disappeared into the world between worlds.
Each season round the Silver Wheel
as humans struggle not to feel
And yet in feeling all shall heal
…no more their wounded thoughts conceal
Deep within the fragile strands
altered by Unsidhe hands
halflings, mixed-bloods, contrabands
…their blight then spreads across all lands
From earth to sea and sea to sky
on air’s bright wings like gossamer, fly,
Across the realms where none shall die
…to within the web where all truths lie
And now, tis done …Blessings from Beyond the Gate …Penny
The complete Silver’s Threads series, is available in paperback from
Beyond the Gate Gallery, 03 5348 8000
In Paperback and Kindle versions from Amazon.com
Barnes and Noble and Ingram Sparks, for wholesale orders.