Coloured lights

Dear reader,

Here is the first draft of one of the 12 books that form The prophecy.


All the best,



The prophecy of the Shalforen: Coloured lights


“Any news?”

“Nothing.”-a young man closed the door behind him.

A skinny woman in a black dress frowned as the youth lit a cigarette and sat on a battered wooden chair, putting his feet up on the kitchen table.

“I eat there.”-she grumbled, stirring the soup that was bubbling in an iron casserole.

“Tough luck.”-the man laughed as he put his muddy shoes back on the ground.

There was a moment’s silence. A cuckoo clock chirped one in the midst of the gloominess while the woman poured some of the steaming soup into a chipped bowl and passed it to her companion.

“Do you have a spoon?”

“No.”-the woman answered grumpily.

Taking a spoon out from the silverware draw, she sat at the table in front of the youth who stared at her in disbelief.

“You forgot to say please.”- she blew at her hot soup.

Before the young man could answer in rage the mucky kitchen door burst open, the cold night breeze whistling through the warm house. A tall man in a green anorak entered the rustic kitchen.

“Soup!”-the tall man’s teeth chattered as he fought to close the door against the wind.

The others stared at him quizzically though the new comer paid no attention whatsoever.

“What?”- the tall man muttered irritably after a moment’s silence.

“Has she arrived yet?”-the young man asked quickly.

“No.”-he answered gravelly and sat to a bowl of steaming soup.


Chapter 1: “Sunday afternoon.”

“Travelling alone?”- a young man asked in a German accent, his sleek blond hair plastered against his pail, white skull.

Anna glanced at the sweaty creature sitting next to the isle.

“No.”-she answered vaguely, getting a quick glance of the person sitting to her left, next to the window, who was merrily listening to some music- “I’m with him.”

Anna smiled unconvincingly, pointing discretely at the tall dark young man sitting next to her.

“Oh.”-the blond sighed disappointed then, presumably changing his mind, he took Anna’s hand and shook it cheekily- “How do you do? I’m Rolph.”

“I’m Gemma.”-Anna lied trying to sound as believable as possible, silently wishing Rolph would leave her alone.

“And…”-he eyed the blue eyed youth sitting next to the embarrassed girl.

“Damn…”-Anna thought, trying to invent an excuse- “Three hours worth of nuisance from this twit… think Anna think!”

“Guille.”-a deep voice answered, making Anna jump in surprise- “I see you have met my wife.”-the man smiled, shaking Rolph’s hand.

“Honeymoon.”-He added matter of factly in his Spanish accent and held a very embarrassed Anna’s hand. Then, he re-plugged himself to his music.

Rolph’s pale face was slowly turning purple in disbelief. Hesitatingly, he smiled and fell silent for the duration of the flight.

Taken aback, Anna didn’t know what to do. On one hand, if she behaved normally Rolph would surely pester her again with some other idiotic comment, yet she wasn’t exactly comfortable with the idea of holding a total stranger’s hand … why had he helped her, anyway? It wasn’t as if she knew him or anything…

“Sod them all.”-she thought and, curling up, she fell asleep.


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