andy cannon
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Everything posted by andy cannon
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Saturday arrived bright and cold beneath a sky washed pale blue by the night's rain. Christopher left the flat shortly after ten with a canvas shopping bag folded beneath one arm and a short list of errands in his coat pocket. Mrs Patel had asked him to collect a replacement order of coffee beans from one of the suppliers on the far side of town. The task carried him through the centre of Penmere and into the weekly market that occupied the square every weekend throughout the autumn.
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Thank you!
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In my efforts to wrestle my disjointed thoughts into a readable manuscript I usually forget that the readers are not privy to every crazy idea that pops into my head, and as a result, sequences that seem perfectly logical to me actually lack about 40% of the background structure and make about as much sense as a random page from Finnegan's Wake translated into Navajo.
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Very astute observation. There is almost as much material that was relegated to the cutting room floor as actually made its way into this draft, including a couple of scenes with Christopher whining to Jamie about the unsettling man who is intruding in his life. I felt like those conversations reiterated what he had said in his internal monologues, so they were extraneous. I apologize that this pruning may have cut back some needed branches!
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Thank you for the kind words!
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Discovering that reality might not be all it's cracked up to be must be a terrifying moment.
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### Chapter Six ####################################################################################################################################################### The lantern festival transformed the harbour every autumn. Strings of coloured lanterns hung between buildings and across the harbour road, their reflections trembling in the darkening water below. Food stalls lined the promenade beneath canvas awnings striped with rainwater and light. The smell of frying fish drifted
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Right? It's a tough life with all the rain, but adding in ghostly cavalry could keep a guy awake at night.
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Christopher is taking this much better than I would!
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### Chapter Five ### Rain pressed softly against the corridor windows while Christopher crossed the upper floor carrying a stack of Year Eleven essays balanced against one hip and a takeaway cup of coffee in his other hand. The school had not fully woken yet. A few classroom lights glowed beneath closed doors farther along the corridor, and somewhere downstairs a photocopier whined into life. His shoes squeaked faintly against the polished floor. At first he barely noticed
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Another perceptive question! This one is explained further on, so I will allow that to unfold in a timely manner.
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That is a perceptive question that raises an issue I did not fully work out. My thought is that one of the unusually-oriented burial sites is Celyn's, and the Maelor arranged that so he could watch the Marcus Aemilianus depart from Britannia forever as a final "and the horse you rose in on". I would love to hear other theories!
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### Chapter Four:########################################################################################################################################### Cloud cover still pressed low across the harbour when Christopher arrived with the Year Eleven history class just after midday. The storm had passed during the night, but the world it left behind looked waterlogged and raw. Wet stone reflected pale light beneath the quay railings while gulls circled overhead, shrieking into the wind.
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Sadly, I am as confused as Christopher, LOL.
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Christopher woke feeling as though he had not properly slept at all. Grey morning light pressed dimly through the curtains. Rain still tapped softly against the windows, though the storm had weakened sometime before dawn into a steady coastal drizzle. The radiator clicked unevenly beneath the window while somewhere downstairs the bakery ovens had already begun their daily thunder. Christopher stared at the ceiling for a long moment without moving. The dream itself was already dissolvin
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They sound like a fun bunch.
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Thank you for catching that! It was corrected in an earlier draft but it crept back in. Now it is edited out.
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This is quite the conundrum since I didn't think it through very carefully and didn't anticipate that the ambiguous nature of the charges would become such a sticking point! I'll let everyone read the first three or four chapters to see if this feels like a fatal flaw or if it can be shrugged off as another of my eccentricities. If it proves hard for you readers to overcome, I can revise the prologue to reflect something less anachronistic.
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Rain arrived before dawn and never properly stopped. By ten in the morning, Penmere had dissolved into shifting grey water and blurred light. Rain swept sideways across the harbour in dense curtains while the wind shoved hard against the sea wall below the promenade. Most of the tourist shops along the waterfront had their shutters down despite the hour. Plastic signs rattled uselessly outside closed ice cream kiosks. A rack of postcards outside the newsagent twisted damply in the wind.
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Religion in general seems to attract charlatans and scoundrels with an agenda.
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There's the rub, eh?
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Fair enough, it was a bit before my time, so I didn't spend much time researching it (no time at all actually), but the actual impetus of the punishment is not too important to the plot, hence the ambiguous nature of the charges in the prologue.
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Teacher Christopher Edwards believed his life began in the seaside town of Penmere. When memories return beneath the ancient Tor, he discovers another truth: he has lived before. Across two thousand years, he and one other soul have found each other again and again, only to be torn apart. At the heart of the mystery lies one act of unbearable grief, when a priest's desperate refusal to accept death transformed love into an endless cycle of remembrance. Christopher must decide whether the life he is living belongs to memory or to choice. For the first time in centuries, love may offer not a beginning, but an ending.
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From The Coastal Traveller's Guide to Devon and Cornwall, 2023 Edition Penmere Rugged cliffs, winding harbour streets and centuries of maritime history make Penmere one of the most distinctive coastal towns on Britain's south-western shoreline. Popular with walkers, history enthusiasts and visitors, the town combines dramatic scenery with a strong sense of local identity. At first glance Penmere appears to be a classic fishing harbour. Colourful boats crowd the quayside, c
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The settlement clung to the curve of the harbour as though it had grown there rather than been built, its pale stone and timbered roofs following the natural sweep of the shore. Steep headlands rose on either side, dark with gorse and wind-bent trees, forming a protective embrace that made the slate-coloured water inside feel unusually still, almost sheltered from the broader violence of the sea. At the edge of the settlement, where land and sea met most sharply, a black tor rose from the w
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