Free Old World (The Green and Pleasant Land) by Oliver Kennedy

me from my vengeance. Only when I reached the stop of the stairwell did my faith in retribution falter. The stairway led to another door and beyond that was the world, the great outdoors looked back at me. The trail of blood from the harlequin had been a steady flow coming up the stairs.
    But now it was lost, it died off in the long grass and the trees and the rain of another storm which had chosen to follow its fellow and erupt over Ravensburg. I propped myself up against the doorway and looked out at the trees and the shadows sheltering beneath their canopy, I looked for one that was darker than the rest, but he was gone. I wept for all that was lost, I wept until I heard a noise on the stairs behind me.
    I looked up and he was there, the raven. The face of a man was revealed beneath the folds of his cloak, my addled mind had seen a carrion descend in the hall, but this was surely a human, taller and broader than any I'd known, but human nonetheless. The silver guns with which he'd despatched the mad men had been sheathed and he squatted down next to me, looking out into the storm through eyes that contained not a hint of colour in their inky black orbs. His skin was markedly pale in contrast, ageless skin that seemed to glow in the same way that the skin of the harlequin had done. For a long time he regarded the woodland before finally meeting my gaze.
    “I am sorry for what has befallen you Robert Locklear, it was a fate of which you were undeserving”. I looked out into the storm, I could not find the will to speak again but he read my thoughts within the silence. “We will find him my friend, so do I speak the words, so shall it be”. This time I made to speak, another malformed whisper which wriggled its way from my desolate mouth. He nodded grimly and gave me his answer, “My name is Lucello, and I have come further than you can imagine”. 

Afterword 

    Thank you for taking the time to read my story. This is the first part of a series. If you want to find out what happens to the Locklears, or discover the identity of Lucello and the Mad Harlequin, then pick up part two 'Amidst the Falling Dust' available Christmas 2013.

    Please take the time to leave a review for this book, your feedback is appreciated.

    Chapter one from 'Amidst the falling dust' can be found at the end of this book, following three short stories from the Green and Pleasant Land.

    For more information on me and my work please visit my website

    www.silverwinter.com

    Take care and remember, start every day with a dream.

    Oliver

The Wheels on the Bus

    A Tuesday morning. Unlike any other. It was a hot night and a cold dawn, which means fog. Thick blankets of suffocating fog that writhed and clung to the forest of concrete and metal. Here and there a stubborn street light shines through the whiteout, refusing to admit defeat to the sun. On a day like this neither of them are winners, the fog is so thick that day and night have merged to create some grand elemental monster, which blinds us to everything outside our own slowly beating hearts.
    I make this journey every day, and every day I take this bus. I go nowhere but there and back again, I help make circles, I help the tires turn. I'm old now I think, much older than I was and much older than I feel or seem to be. Does that makes sense? I hope so, it would be nice if, on a day like this, at least my thoughts made sense. Because what is beyond them, that which is outside the mind and the beating heart, is today truly senseless in every sense of the word.
    The current driver is called Jeff. I don't get on with Jeff, but when you have been riding this bus around as long as I have you realise that drivers come and go, there will be more Jeffs no doubt, but there will also be plenty more Terrys. Terry was my friend, we used to share Worthers originals and talk about the football, he was my friend, but he's gone now, gone for good.
    I don't watch the news much anymore. All just filled with