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THE SLEEPY WILLOW

🇳🇬FrancisXaviEr
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Synopsis
During the holidays before her engagement ceremony in Sagres, a distant town eastwards of Cyprus, Mira O’Neil tragically becomes trapped in her sleep and falls victim under the diabolical spells of a sorceress seeking to be immortal and to wreck havoc using her life sucking trees including her cursed demonic army of werewolves and goblins to control the lives of the ordinary people in their sleep. Will she succumb to her tragic fate that awaits her like the other victims or succeed in overcoming the gruesome, blood sucking wolves that lingers in the dark at night.
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Chapter 1 - PROLOGUE

She scribbled her message on a scroll with an inked feather brush inside the carriage as the coachman drove the chariot, hitting the horses continuously with his whip towards the vast deserted plains under the waning sun. 

Letter of Mira O'neil to Caroline Graham

 

Dated May 19th 1537, 

 Sweet Caroline,

 I write to thee with a warm heart of deepest gratitude. I believe our parting was somewhat premature but all the same, I wish you a good health with all sincerity from my heart. I am forced to write to you due to unforeseen circumstances that have beguiled me on the way to Sagres and sadly, it will take a few days before this inked paper will reach your lovely, gracious fingertips. I hope you have returned safely back home after our parting from the harbor at Cyprus. It is as you had told me. Gordon's suggestion to take a long route around the mountain pass turned out to be a horrible disaster. My fourteenth days arrival before the engagement ceremony have taken a whole complete wrong turn and the days which I had counted before I left home, had lengthen because of his persuasive words.

 The ride has been rather quite bumpy when we first got to the canyons because of the two horses racing nonstop at every stroke that comes from the coachman's whip which he does to hasten our arrival and to make up for lost time. His horses seem to be familiar with every deserted path we had taken out here in the dry plains where all I had been seeing, since we last saw, was the dry desert with the sun shining in the barest sky. We are seventeen and half a day away from arriving in the town of Sagres and had made a few stops at different taverns we could find along the way in order to rest the horses for the next day after each sunset. The chilly wind I felt at the inns we passed the night, were always different and I must say that it was the first time I had slept in a tavern run by locals and I had no choice but to put up with the kind of people I met there. 

 Unfortunately, The dry winds of May has impacted negatively on this weary trip to see the Garzaville Hacienda where my uncle resides and depressive boredom have drastically affected my sound health ever since my departure from the docks. As for the coachman, he seemed rather quite handy in keeping his two horses neat and ready to run at every sunrise. His grey horses had done a great job getting us this far and I believe they will help complete the journey though I not sure how long it will take to ease the wrinkling worries my uncle may feel when he will come to the realization of a possible delay in my anticipated arrival although I speculate he would be overjoyed with my presence in his mansion for the betrothal ceremony rather than to hear of boring tales concerning my delay. 

 I wouldn't want to think how my finance or his relatives would react if eventually they find out that my arrival will be untimely but I am sure the coachman has his plans thought out well for us to arrive early. The soonest we get to town, the better for the coachman to get his fare for his unwavering efforts and for me to get a good rest in the bedchamber of my Uncle's estate. I won't forget to make a post-haste-dispatch for this letter to be in thy custody in two weeks from now and I hope it will be quick enough for you to be informed of my irksome journey before your anticipated arrival in Sagres during July winter. 

 Relay my sincere greetings to Aunt Perry for the motherly affections she gave me throughout my years of study in Wales. I implore thee to tell her that I crave for her presence for the eventful day I get betrothed.

 Till we meet again, dearest one. 

 

 From thy beloved, 

 Mira O'neil