Speculative Fiction—an all-encompassing genre created to describe stories of science fiction, fantasy, alternate history, and other stories that have an element of “What if...” in them. A story in speculative fiction is one that adds an element of the unreal, or asks, what would become of our society if history took a different direction at some important event? Fiction with a little something extra thrown in.—William D. Richards
Leinster Gardens and other subleties by Jan Edwards
Release date: March 14, 2015
Subgenre: Ghost stories, short fiction
About Leinster Gardens and other subtleties:
“A family divided by civil war - a girl’s obsession for the carven effigy of a long dead knight - bomber pilots – Otter hunt saboteurs - Tudor prisons - graveyard vigils” – just a few of the ghostly inspirations for supernatural tales that are as many and various as the stories themselves. Fourteen chilling tales of ghosts and hauntings! Including the BFS award short-listed ‘Otterburn’!
“As a fan Algernon Blackwood, I loved this collection. I do not know the exact dividing line between fiction and literature, but this work is approaching literature if not already there. A collection of short British ghost stories by Jan Edwards. Haunting, romantic, timeless, sad, and eerie: these are all adjectives that come to mind when I read this ... ghost stories you can sink your teeth into! ” (Dunwich Review)
“Ghost stories, adeptly told, with a sense of locale and time neatly placed within the narratives. Her family history informs and inspires some of her stories. Folklore figures as a focus in more than one story, whether urban myth or historical lore. But ghostly they are and deceptively disturbing.” ...David A Sutton.
Excerpt from The Ballad of Lucy Lightfoot:
Only one remained on the Isle of Wight who
remembered Lucy Lightfoot. He was the reason she had returned, and the reason
she stood in the church porch, debating on whether seven hundred years was long
hesitated, glancing toward the setting sun, and then retreated to her house,
just along the street. She wondered yet again why returning to her old home,
and this island, was so important. She had prepared well, and she felt she had
a very good chance of success, but the stakes were so damned high.
headed straight for the study, sloshed a large measure of brandy into a waiting
snifter, and knocked it back in one. She stood motionless for several seconds
whilst the alcohol seared its path, and her eyes watered momentarily.
waste of good liquor, she thought. Father would be
horrified, despite all of those casks he slid past the Excise. ‘Brandy was
fer gentry’ he’d say. Father would be surprised at a lot of the things I get
up to now.
herself into a chair, as the drink finally hit, and poured another good
measure. Sobriety didn't appeal so much, today.
a decorated box on the desk and stared at it; and took another mouthful of
liquid courage before she prised up the lid. She lifted out a small goat-skin
pouch, fingering its contents through the hide, remembering where each lump
came from, and when. A wrinkled sliver of dried gristle, cut from the umbilicus
of her first child; a small chunk of dried flesh from her stillborn second son;
a snip of cloth, brown with the first blood of her eldest daughter’s womanhood;
a small human bone that she preferred not to name even to herself; two gold
coins and a short length of coffin wood. All were powerful mementos of those
who had been closest to her during her long life. The pouch leaked fine dust
onto her fingers. Grave dirt – from her first husband’s resting place. That would've amused him, she thought, using his death to facilitate his own
had been in the planning for a very long time, for centuries – to the where and
the when that the Wite had sent her to join her soldier knight. Across an
entire continent to the edges of the Ottoman lands, to a place and time long
before the Lightfoot name had ever begun. Her children, and her children’s
children, for more generations than she could count, were dust. Only she
the familial talismans a final time she tightened the bag’s ragged strings, and
returned it to the box. Soon she would use its collected power to break the
To view the YouTube promo for Leinster Gardens and Other Subtleties click HERE - “A stretch of elegant Regency housing – in reality little more than a façade...”