top of page
Writer's pictureAstriaMikaelson

The Highlands Of Ireland Myth & Magic

Full First Chapter Read & Book Summary


Hello, and welcome back! If you have been here before, then you probably know a little bit about this blog and myself included. Further meaning, that you more than likely have read about me being an Author.

And today, I realized that I've talked about my books/series but really haven't gone in depth as I could have. So, I will be GIVING YOU THE FIRST CHAPTER FOR FREE!

With a Summary in case, you might have missed the previous book blog post.

We will be reading THE HIGHLANDS OF IRELAND MYTH & MAGIC.


In a very short summary: "The Highlands of Ireland, Myth & Magic." This one centers around the main female character, Marie. When she travels from America to Ireland to meet her grandparents for the first time, Marie not only finds ancient ancestral magic, but lands of unknown and soon finds that courage can be found from within. (We even meet a mythical Irish creature, a Phooka named Pook. (Who is by far my favorite character I have had the pleasure to write!)


With every book I have written, I enjoy every minute of it. Yes. Even the long days that are filled with me hitting writer's block and hours of trying to read my own handwriting, which was clearly jotted down in a messy hurry.

I'm a writer. And when having such a profound and yet nourishing title, one must be willing to go within themselves, to create worlds out of nothing, to speak a certain truth, and above all, be able to bring others alongside them so they may be able to live another life within the pages of the story. Wheather the book is fiction or nonfiction, if it is written well, the reader will get lost someplace in the middle or perhaps feel the realness become a part of them.


For I know not every book is for everyone. And this is ok. In fact, it's downright wonderful! There are enough books and stories for the whole world to read for the rest of their lifetimes. This alone is exciting!

We can continue to create new material, and find ones from the past. And each story can give something that the other cannot.

Just like life. Everyone learns, grows, and lives differently than their neighbor.

As should our books. With keeping this in mind, I sincerely hope you enjoy The Highlands Of Ireland Myth & Magic! And if you don't, you need not worry about hurt feelings and such. I encourage you to go out and find something that you'll truly adore.

Alright, It's time to begin the reading. Shall we?

(By the way, if you would like to hear this in audio form, I will have an episode on my up and coming podcast very soon! I'll keep you loves updated when it launches. I also hope to have an e-book and audio book made sometime this year.)


Book


Acknowledgments.

To My beautiful mother, Elizabeth Marie Mikaelson. I remember when I was just a little girl, you and I would build fairy houses, read books about fairies and so much more. You made my childhood truly magical, thank you. With all my love - A


Authors note

Magic and mayhem are sure to find you here. Whether you hear bells or chimes ringing in your ear, or the smell of cinnamon wafting through the air. I hope you come across something astounding once in your life, that makes you question if Fae are near. But you must be aware, not all wish you dear.


Chapter 1

Hazy dreams


Stillness, as stillness would have it on a moving train. The windows were speckled with water droplets, that looked as though they had been shot clean, like a bullet across the thin, icy air.

Inside a small velvety sleeping compartment, held and rocked Marie Clark into a wistful dream, of the days just before. Marie, a thoughtful and mannered girl at the age of sixteen, petite with rich syrup brown hair, and honey golden eyes.

She hopped aboard a ship from America and sailed

the churning sea to the emerald isle of Ireland, where she would soon meet her grandparents for the very first time.


America had always been her home, until now. Her Mother and Father migrated to the land of opportunity for a better life, settled down and had a family. With two sons,

Taren, who was practically an imp to begin with, a sly talker and blazing red hair you could spot from miles ahead. Be as it may, that he was only a year older then Marie, he had a knack for getting into fights purely to earn a profit, down at the old abandoned barn that had been left to rot some years ago.

That left Blaine to be the eldest of nineteen. Who resembled his father, Noel Clark. Dark hair, a handsome fellow. Except for an inched sized scar on the right side of his chin, whenever someone would inquire upon where he got it, Blaine never gave a straight answer.

With plagued by Hyperthymesia, Blaine usually kept his life simple. Their mother always said that it was a gift in disguise. He couldn’t find a single reason for this, no matter how hard he tried.

You could say he was the more relaxed of the two. But put them together, you were sure to find mischief and malarkey to be close behind.

The boys, had kept their parents’ hands always full. And Marie, being the youngest, was soft spoken most times and particularly clever for her age. Some would say, she was a little too inquisitive at times. And her never ending questions, would someday create more problems than needed. Their comments didn’t stop Marie, not in the slightest. In most things, she took after her mother. And not just in looks, but abilities as well.


The entire Clark clan worked and owned in the family business; The Brewing Pot. Making fresh teas, and selling a many other herbs, as well as homemade candles on the side. With the business growing ever so fast, by the year.

This year however, Ma and Pa had to make a hard decision, to send Marie to her grandparents who lived in Ireland, by Autumn. It was a tough year, trying to keep the business afloat, with the increase of surplus and taxes on the goods, that were needed for the store. This left hardly enough money to make ends meet. Truth be told, it was a hard year for many.

It was decided, that the best thing that the Clarks could do for their family, to make sure there was enough food, warmth, and essentials for them all, was to send Marie to Ireland. Where she would be safe, have plenty of food to eat, and still be surrounded by family. Even if that meant leaving everything that you ever knew behind, and starting someplace anew.

The boys would help even more so, with the work load around the Clark family home and business, while Marie was away.

Times have been hard through the years for the Clarks, but they always managed things quite well from what they had. Never giving up hope.

Mrs. Marie Clark, who Marie was named after, sent a letter to her mother and father, asking if Marie could stay awhile for the autumn and winter seasons. On certain conditions, that Marie wasn’t to know of while she was there. Not long after Mrs. Clark sent word, there was a reply. A letter came stamped, sealed and posted straight from Ballybunion Ireland. The arrangements had been made.

In a few short months Autumn came quickly, and Marie waved goodbye to her family from the stark white ship called the Uisce, until she could see them no longer, through the gray, billowing fog which swirled in her head, making the scene even more hazy than it been minutes ago. And as it was, Marie wasn’t a big fan of dark, unforgiving waters for some time now.

The hours ticked slowly by, each extensively prolonged then the next. Smells of all sorts, both sweet and pungent invaded her nose, making it sting every so often, as well as her eyes. There was one time, Marie was sure she had seen a rat like creature scamper passed her feet, it seemed to be in just as in a hurry as everyone else.


While the unpleasant, sordid ship docked at the harbor, there where flags raised high, billowing in the breeze. And passengers embarked on their own journeys, of one's life.

Marie was now more uneasy of her new surroundings then ever, stepped out onto the wet, slick docks.

She momentarily watched, as a handful of leaves danced a long forgotten, secret ballet across the rippling waters.

Clutching a single tattered, brown bag that was more

patches than bag itself, who held belongings Marie couldn't dare to part with or leave home, tight in her grasp.

All the while trying hard not to miss her footing and slip into the deep, chilling waters below. Marie inhaled a few deep breaths, hoping to slow down her racing heartbeat. Just the thought of having nothing but water surrounding you, encasing you in its depth of merciless clutches, was enough to put Marie on edge.

Ringing bells echoed from the far North Compass Church, fog horns sounded off as the ships had come and gone. She was certainty far away from her little home. Ireland, was nothing like the harbor town of Mystic Connecticut.


Through all the commotion, there was now a middle-aged woman, in a bright blue dress with kind equally matching eyes and sandy blond hair, smiling at Marie.

"Hello!” The woman bellowed, in a thick Irish accent. “Are ye lost, dear?"

Marie, unsure if she should talk to the stranger right in front of her or not. However, there was something about the woman, as if pure kindness radiated off her. Marie knew she could trust her, it was an instant feeling.

“Yes mam, I'm afraid I am,” Marie shouted, just loud enough to hear over the noise of passerby.

“Are ye headed to the train station?”

Marie quickly shook her head up and down.

“Well then, I’ll be takin’ ya there meself, it’s only a short walk from the harbor after all.” She spoke, outstretching her hand, waiting for Marie to exchange the custom greeting.


Marie took the woman’s hand, she noticed a matching, stunningly blue ring resting gloriously upon her ring finger. At the same time it was rather odd, for there were what looked like wee vines made of gold, wrapping around a delicate cerulean jeweled blossom.

Marie had never seen anything like it.

“My name is Breena Nadir, by the way. Ye may call me Bree, all meh friends do. What is yer name, dear?”

Marie, still trying to keep up in a fast-paced jog, puffed, “Marie, my name’s Marie.”

“Well, that is a lovely name indeed!” Breena replied.


The conductor rang out, “Leaving Taisce, to Ballybunion, Stoney Haven, and Pléaráca.”

Quite soon they had arrived at the train station, Bree coming along too. Marie climbed the rod iron steps and onto the train. Making her way along through the corridors. Whenever Marie became nervous, she had a habit of whistling little tunes.

She found herself doing just that, all the while looking for a compartment on the train.

Bree had noticed. “My dear girl, ye sound like a beautiful wee bird! Yes, that is what I shall call yeu! Little bird.” Breena laughed, seeing the perplexed look that came suddenly across Marie’s face.

“I’ve given all me friends such names!” Bree reassured. This relaxed Marie’s features, melting her high arched eyebrows, along with a half upturned smile.

“I like it, I think it fits quite well.”

At first, Marie felt so alone and frightened on most of her trip, until now. Now she had made a friend and was in a nice cozy bed on a train, going to her grandparents cottage, near the seaside. Even though, she could happily do without the ‘sea’ part.


Suddenly, Marie was jerked out of a deep sleep by the train’s whistle sounding off, who was now presently telling her to quickly wake up and get off. This was her stop, in fact, it was the first stop the train had made the entire trip.

Still a bit sleepy, Marie let out a crackle of a yawn, grabbed her belongings and said goodbye to her warm resting compartment behind.

As Marie was getting off the black-as-silk train, she heard Bree calling her by her new nickname.

“Little bird! Is this the place ye be stayin’? I only ask because I know the couple who live here, Mr. and Mrs.

O’ Kelly.” Breena pointed to the closest cottage on the nearest hill, that you could spot from the trail where the train let off.

Mare grew increasingly excited. “Yes, that’s my Grandparents. They have practically lived here all their lives. My Mother grew up here as a little girl, did you know her?”


“Oh yes,” said Bree, clapping a hand to her mouth.

“I knew yer Mother quite well, we were the grandest o’ friends. Its like I’m a lookin’ at her all over again. Yer a mini her. An ye Grandparents, would host a mighty spring picnic every year over those fields,”

Bree pointed once more in the area ahead. “I miss those days! They are treasured memories o’ mine. Yer Mother especially favored the shortbread cookies, she even dipped em in honey, o’ all the things!” Breena chuckled, reveling a brilliant smile.

“Are ye gettin’ off the train mam?” Yelled the train conductor, who had soot smudges upon his tired, young face. Startling them both, by his abrupt presence.

“Perhaps another time!” Bree shouted back to the man.

She hurriedly hugged Marie from the steps, then hopped aboard the train for a second time. Settling herself again in the seat she had recently occupied a moment ago. Both waving goodbye to each other through the windows, as new found friends.

After her short walk down the trail, Marie now stood in the lush, thickly tall grass that occasionally swayed, tickling her ankles. She watched the train as it rolled away off into the distance, It’s name boldly displayed on either side, in currant paint. Reading, The Aduantas.

All the while gripping her bag safely to her chest. Taking in all the new sights. Breathing in the cold, foreign, fresh air into her healthy lungs, Marie started to climb up the steep hill, stepping on the stone steps that pierced the earth

halfway into the ground.

The stones themselves looked as if they had been there for centuries of old. These were precisely lined up the hill, with stone sided walls, covered with vibrant adorning moss.


When out of nowhere, something caught Marie’s eye, for only a brief second and then it was gone.

Marie couldn’t figure out what on earth it could have been. All she could make out, was that it must have been at least half the size of a normal person in height and very quick, quick as a blur. It was cloaked all in black, like a shadow. The strange thing about this was not just its

height, but it was the only thing except the livestock, and even they were on the other side of the field, that seemed alive, for miles around.

Marie was still rooted in place at the top of the stone stairs, she gazed at the enormous stone structures, just yards away from her. The ancient Stonehenge.

The very thing, that the strange blur ran behind and out of sight.


What are you? She thought. Still debating if it was a good idea, to go and investigate the odd happening or

not. When Marie was abruptly caught off guard by her grandmother, who stood in mid-way of the door frame, yelled.

“Marie, is that yeu? Why in Fates sake are ye standin’ out there fer? Yer in fer a nasty cold if ya stay out any longer. Come on in.”

Marie immediately pulled her eyes away from the sight, for she was not quick enough for her grandmother, Laoise O’ Kelly, to notice. Just the thought of this made Laoise uneasy.

“Coming,” Marie called back, as she made her way to the door, meeting her grandmother inside.

The warm air instantly surrounded Marie, as she entered the little stone cottage. A warmth she hadn’t felt since leaving home. A golden light shown from the crackling fire in the living quarters, that engulfed most of the house, in a homely radiant light. Leaving a few candles, dimly lighting the rest of the way.

“Now then, let’s get ya warmed up an settled in, shall we?” Laoise finished saying. The grandmother was a stocky woman. With her red-ish chestnut hair, that began to lighten in tone, was pulled back into a low bun. Where small wisps of curls broke free, floating in the air as they pleased. She might have been an older woman, but there was no denying her strong mind and spunk.

Laoise observed a muted, timid Marie. Seeing the girl was just as nervous, as she had felt herself.


“I’m pleased to meet you,” Marie barely murmured, her hand out, waiting for her grandmother to take hold.

Laoise did, so much so, that instead of just a handshake she pulled Marie into a hug. Taking Marie by surprise and knocking the wind right out of her.

“The pleasure is all mine, dear. I’m so happy to have the chance to meet ya. Ye are certainly part o’ the O’ Kelly clan bloodline.”


Laoise then led Marie to her room, where she would stay while she was away from home.

The circular room was large enough to hold a single bed and a dresser, that stood to the far side wall, next to a sizable window that tickled the floor, to the ceiling.

“This part was built on years ago. Way before I was even thought o’, I reckon. Anyway, this is where yeu’ll be stayin’.” Laoise went on, quietly stepping closer to the

door, “I’ll leave ya too it,” Laoise smiled at her granddaughter.


Before she left Marie alone with her thoughts, she turned around briskly adding, “Yer Grandad can’t wait to meet ya. He’ll be in at supper time to join us, after he finishes up fer work.”

“What kind of work does he do?” The question was about to leave Marie’s lips, when she had turned around, expecting to see her grandmother standing next to her, Laoise was no longer there. Marie let out a sigh, taking in

her new surroundings. Her home for the coming of months. It wouldn’t be until sometime after December, she would go back to America. “Well, this is my life now,” Marie blurted out, while heaving her bag onto the bed. “This is with out a doubt, the highlands of Ireland.”

Now laying her clothes, of what she could scarcely bring with her, into a neat folded pile. One dress, a white blouse, a gray blouse and two pairs of trousers. This, except the clothes she had, that rested softly on her shoulders, were the only things she had with her.

Along with a single photo that reflected her with the family, tucked safely between an immortal, aged children’s book;

The Teeny Tales Of Tamsin And Talulah.

The inch an a half thick book, was composed of short stories, that centered around two little people, that held features a lot to the ideal fairy. The only difference was, they weren't fortunate enough to own shimmery lace-like wings. They were a race called, Tineymins, who favored meadows and flowery hill sides.

Tamsin and Talulah, the main charters, the best of friends, who always seem to get into trouble without meaning too.

It was Marie’s comfort book, even after all these years. This, was the same one that her mother used to read to

her as a child. Marie carried all but a dress of her belongings to the dresser, placing her somewhat wrinkled clothing within the old wooden drawers. While she placed the book and photograph on top of the inky, Irish Bog-wood header.


Marie made her way to the bed, when a silvery glint of light shined from underneath, at the end of the bed frame. Marie bent down, her face touching the cold stone floor,

stretching her arm as far as it would go. Finally, pulling it out by her fingertips. It was a music box, crafted in the shape of a heart.


Marie turned it over, expecting to see a windup, there wasn’t one. Marie tried to lift the lid; it too, would not let her see what was concealed inside. “Well, that’s no use,” Marie huffed to herself in dismay. Making up her mind, to ask about the odd music box at a later time.

Marie tied her hair up with an indigo silk ribbon, that matched the delicate flowers that lined the hem of her

seemingly new dress. Marie stepped soundlessly through the house, as if gliding. So quietly in fact, that when she came to the living area, her presence made Laoise jump. Nearly caused the grandmother to drop her cuppa to the floor. Steadying herself, before she spoke.

“Oh! My goodness child, we shall have to put a bell on yeu,” making a joke. To which Marie gave an innocent expression, a corner of her mouth tugged into a soft smile.

Her grandmother could tell that Marie seemed a tad bored,

and not quite sure what to do with herself. Other than sit there, and stare at the bold flame display that was the fire, before them.

Laoise stabbed a crochet hook into the mustered hue yarn beside her that she had been using and turned to face Marie.

“Yes, I’m afraid there isn’t much to do around these parts in the Autumn an Winter seasons. Usually, yer Grandad an I enjoy a good book, sometimes we even sing our favorite carols when it’s close to holiday. Grant it, the work keeps us both busy an entertained.”

She cleared her throat before going on, “I take care o’ the housework, cookin’ an cleanin’ ye know.

An yer Grandad has his work, past the fields. Tomorrow, I’ll teach ya how to take care o’ the animals an what not.”

The last part, captured Marie’s attention exceptionally quick. She couldn’t wait for morning to arise. She always favored animals to most humans.


Just then, there was a gruff voice that rolled through the front door. “It’s a bucketin’ down terribly out there tonight.” A man, with a black, graying beard came into view. He was shaking off his raincoat, when he noticed Marie, sitting there next to his wife.

If his plan was to catch Marie off guard, his mission was accomplished. Laughter started to erupt from the man. “Ye must be Marie, there’s no denyin’ that much, its grand to be meetin’ ya.”

A strange sort of charter, Marie thought. But she was glad that her grandparents were as welcoming as she had hoped for.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Marie piped up.


“Good, now that introductions are out o’ the way, I do believe it’s supper time,” chimed Laoise, she beckoned them to the kitchen. They all sat at a petite, circular wooden table, in the center of the conjoined room, via the living area to the kitchen.

Marie helped set the table, as Laoise handed her the fixings. Finding the right words, Marie asked the question that stuck in her mind ever since she had gotten there.

“I found a music box in Mother’s old room. Was it hers when she was my age?”

“Well, uh- yes I suppose it was,” Laoise spoke slowly, while giving an off, sort of sideways glance at Arthur.

Making sure Marie didn’t see.

“It won’t open,” Marie continued. “I thought, maybe-” “Don’t ya worry about it dear, I’m sure it’s just stuck from bein’ timeworn or somethin’.”

Laoise quickly cut the subject off entirely, as well as Marie’s sentence.


“Now, I only make this on rare occasions,” Laoise went on, “but with it bein’ a special night, with yeu Marie, I figured it was a good enough reason. It’s an old O’ Kelly family recipe, passed down fer generations. An every so many years, someone is picked to add one ingredient to the stew itself.”

“An we thought,” continued Arthur, “that this year it would be yeu.”

“Really?” Marie breathed. They were both so kind to her and welcoming. Even though she had only known them for a short day, they had acted as if they had known each other their entire lives.

Maybe Ireland wasn’t going to be so bad after all. Maybe, just maybe.


End of Chapter 1


There is the first chapter of The Highlands Of Ireland Myth & Magic. Book 1 of a new series. Book 2 is in the works.

This series is perfect for those who like: Fiction, Fantasy, Irish Heritage, Myths, Folklore, Historical Fiction, 1920'S, Found Family, Secrets, Ancient Ancestral Magic, Strong Female leads.

As you may have noticed, before you all start correcting the writing. I may need to explain something. Yes, the writing is exactly the way I intended it to be. It gives the feeling of an authentic Irish accent for some of the characters in the story.

If you enjoyed this and wish to read more, I will leave a link for you to purchase the book below! (This is just one, of many places you can buy. I use lulu, but you can find this book and others of mine at stores such as Amazon, Books-a-million, Barnes & Noble and many more.)

With all my love, until next Tuesday. Xx. -A



































Currently: I'm brainstorming a few book ideas as we speak. Although I seem to go between my "WIPs" Work In Progress. I can't wait to share with you more on what's to come!

Over the past few weeks, I've been going over everything I could possibly find of how to start a podcast. And let me tell you... its a lot. Just yesterday, I bought my first microphone and began to create a few things to go towards the show. I still haven't picked a launch date yet, but I'm hopeful for sometime this February. The Blog will be one of the first to share the news, so stay tuned.

P.s. There is no change in the little bonsai tree yet. But it has a name, "Kiko."

Which Means: Be happy, Hope, and Rejoicing child. Kiko is also a feminine name of Japanese origin.

And of course, I have a cup of coffee getting me though the day. <3





Full discloser, all rights belong to me, the author. No one, unless they have permission from me, can take, use, distribute, change, use as their own in any way, shape, or form of copywrite. Thank you for understanding.


コメント


bottom of page