Posts Tagged ‘Myths and Tales’

Lot’s of people say that porcelain dolls are creepy. I always disagreed. I was given my first doll for Christmas back when I was eight and I loved it so much people kept flooding me with more and more. I’m now thirteen and I still love my dolls.

Their horrid. How can you sleep at night with all of them staring at you like that,” my best friend Otto says. He’s not the free spirit I am. He thinks I don’t notice but he tends to turn them to face the wall if we happen to be watching TV at my house. I can see his eyes dart every now and again to them to check they haven’t moved on their own.

The bright pink walls of my room are lined with various porcelain faces. My favourite one is one that always sits in the middle. She wears a purple dress. Her eyes are beetle black and she has a thick head of spiral curls like my own. Dad brought her back from a trip to the lesser known country of Mergovia. He was on a photography assignment from his newspaper when he saw an old woman who easily looked like she had seen one hundred years. She was selling the dolls so he brought one home for me. He said that the woman had tried to usher him some kind of warning but he didn’t understand the language. He always did have a flair for the dramatic.

I named her ‘Hate’ because of all my dolls – their faces normally serene, shiny eyes vacant – she looked like she was scowling a little. Given her stern expression and crazy hair I always imagined her angry. I would tell Hate all of the things that were bothering me. She wouldn’t dismiss them or tell me that I was over reacting like most people did. She listened. She scowled on my behalf and I felt better. I had a good thing going with Hate. That was until the night I woke her up.

It had been a particularly bad day. I had failed a Spanish test, I dropped my lunch tray in view of everyone and I had been walking around all afternoon with toilet paper stuck to my shoe. Rather than telling me this the girls felt it better to giggle at my expense. It wasn’t until I met Otto after school and he told me was it finally removed. My name being Tally, it lead to the new nickname ‘Toilet Paper Tally’. I will now bear this new name until I can talk dad into letting me move school.

I was relaying all of this to Hate, spilling my inner nastiness. She stared down at me with her scowl like she felt the pain of each of my words.

I smiled, content that I had managed to shoulder my humiliation. I switched my lamp off and laid my head on my pillow. I gave one last look at Hate and could have sworn she was angled more towards me than she had been. Anyway, off to sleep I went.

In the middle of the night I heard a soft singing. It was a tune that seemed familiar but I couldn’t quite place it. It was a soft little voice that sounded younger than my own. There was someone else in my room! I looked up. This time Hate definitely had moved. She was staring straight at me.

Well look who’s awake,” she said in a sharp, shrill shriek that wasn’t as soft as her singing voice.

I could only stare at her. How often does a doll come to life? Too often I’d say.

Aren’t you going to lift me down from here or are you just going to keep staring at me like a dim witted moron.”

You’re not real,” I gasped.

Hate shook her head. “You can bet your ass I’m real.”

Dolls don’t come to life.” I tried rubbing my eyes. My brain told me I was dreaming.

Hate shook her head slowly. It a slow moment that required a lot of effort from her. “This one does. Now get me down from here. We have work to do…”

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Click HERE to read Vivika Widow’s Myths and Tales

We are so pleased to present a painting of King Henry of Ravensedge. Thank you for the submission. We think His Majesty would approve of his portrait showing him gallant upon his horse ready for any challenge.


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Henry is not of royal blood. Only a black magic could secure his throne. To check out Vivika Widow’s MYTHS AND TALES for the full story click HERE .

Got some VW art work you would like to share? Contact torrance.global@gmail.com

The world is a stage they say and there is nowhere quite like the theatre. When you step into that building you know there is a whole world of possibilities ready to unfold before you. The light on that empty state, ready and waiting for its eager audience.

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I am so excited to share with you that one of my own tales will be getting the stage play treatment!

THE GIFT first appeared as a short story in the MYTHS AND TALES COLLECTION (2014). It tells the story of an old man named fletcher who accepting his end is near wishes to leave his wealth to a worthy cause so that his legacy of generosity will live on long after he is gone.

As he lives out his final days he meets a struggling author named Nathaniel. Fletcher is touched by Nathaniel’s story and his kind spirit so decides on Nathaniel being the one he would like to support. Fletcher’s family worry that he Nathaniel isn’t all that he seems. We are all equal when we knock on Death’s door. It is up to us what impression we wish to leave behind.

I was overwhelmed by the amazing reception this story received. It means a lot to me that it would speak to so many people. It will be coming to a stage near you in 2018 in support of Ragdolls UK (Reg: SCO43805).

Check back here for announcements and I’ll see you at the theatre!

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Click HERE to read the MYTHS AND TALES collection!

Coming soon as a web series from Torrance Media

When you move into a new house, everyone has their checklist: furniture removal, changing address with the bank, checking for resident spooks. Clifton Road was a new town for me. I didn’t know what to expect. The landlord never warned me that I would be sharing with Tina.

My first night in the house I decided to take it easy. I slumped down on the sofa to watch some television. Most of the boxes were still unpacked and the large bulky grey set was placed on two chairs because I hadn’t built the stand designated for it.

I was exhausted. I lowered my heavy eye lids. It was late afternoon so I thought, ‘No harm can come of a half hour doze?’ I would wake up, sleep refreshed and ready to get the rest of my belongings in their rightful place.

A half hour doze became a three hour slumber. I was awoken with the feel of fingers through my thick, chestnut hair. I woke with a start. The TV screen had gone blank. The movie I had been watching had long finished. I reached to my head to feel for a hand but alas there was none.

I thought nothing more of it. I put it down to my sleep addled mind.

Through the night my sleep was broken once again by a loud clatter. I leapt into action; not really sure what damage the rolled up magazine I carried with me could do to an intruder.

In the living room all the remaining unpacked boxes had been tipped over. They had been pretty shaken up. I was shaken up too!

I checked the door was locked. The windows were secure. The streets outside were empty of people. I went back to bed and fell into an uneasy sleep.

The unusual occurrences continued the next morning. I was brushing my teeth. The steam from my shower had fogged the mirror. I was busy contemplating the day ahead when with a squeak the words:

HI, I’M TINA’

formed before my very eyes. I looked behind me, even though if there were anything there I would have seen it already.

Erm, hi Tina,” I replied. I’m nothing if not polite.

I LIKE YOU,’ she wrote.

Most say I was insane for staying in that house but Tina and I got along famously. She would leave little notes like ‘GO GET EM’ in my lunch bag. Her poltergeist like abilities meant she could keep the house neat and tidy whilst I was at work. It was far from perfect but show me a couple who is.

Like most couples we argue. Like many women, Tina likes to have the last word. But it is nice to have someone to come home to.

A lot of people raise an eyebrow at our unorthodox pairing but as long as we’re happy I don’t see where the problem lies. Love is love after all.

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Click HERE to read the Myths and Tales collection.

I’m the girl who wears star wars T shirts, collects movie memorabilia and has more comic books than I care to mention. I think it is fair to say that I am a geek girl. It’s something I am never going to grow out of and given that it has brought so much joy to my life I don’t really see why it should.

I was going through one of the most difficult periods of my life so far and late one night whilst the rest of the household slept I sought some solitude in television. Star Trek TOS happened to be on. I found so much comfort in the whining and beeping noises, the soothing sixties colouring and the escapism of the whole other world. I was hooked. There was plenty Sci Fi shows I enjoyed before then and plenty more since but for me it pin points a particular reason why I love indulging in collecting and discussing so much.

It is for this reason when I was told that my MYTHS AND TALES collection was being brought to the convention circuit I couldn’t contain my excitement. Not only does it give me the opportunity to see all the amazing things conventions has to offer it also honours me with the opportunity to be part of it all.

Details will be announced soon but for now I can’t wait to bring the quirky, sometimes nasty, often enjoyable MYTHS AND TALES to my fellows in the geek world.

I look forward to seeing you all there!

For more details of convention appearances visit Torrance Global. Subscribe to the page for more news and updates!

We are pleased to present the cover art for novels, short stories and graphic novels from Vivika Widow.

Presented by Torrance Media and designed by Leo ST Paul.

Take your pick of thrillers, adventures, black comedy and fantasies.

Which is your favourite? Comment below and let us know.

Sales from all Vivika Widow work supports Ragdolls UK (charity reg SC043805)

 

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COMING SOON from Torrance Media: The Myths and Tales web series!

 

I know as you read this you will find my predicament quite silly. After all, who in their right mind would want to be made of cheese? I certainly didn’t. It was quite accidental. I’ve just had to learn to live with it. The magic I possess has been passed down to me through the generations of women in my family. Dad was a little weary of it, especially when he had to spend a week with an extra head. The extra head was great for heightened senses but not so good for his job as a buttoned down insurance salesman. Poor dad struggled to converse with his clients. Not everyone was accepting as we were. Even with the second head and other little magic mishaps, dad loved mum all the same.

As I grew older the magic became strong in me. Every time I sneezed I would set fire to the coffee table. We would chuckle and put the fire out. Not necessarily in that order.

The magic was difficult to control and when it was mixed with a clumsy gene it was positively dangerous. It was actually written somewhere that my great grandmother – a well respected witch – had been asked by the villagers for help to make their crops grow. Grandmama was only too happy to oblige. Soon the village had more food than they could eat but poor Grandmama had blown herself up in the process, which brings me to my current situation.

Most witches opt for a black cat as their familiar. Sometimes an owl or even a raven – so I have been told – will do the trick. I had opted for three white mice. That was my first mistake.

Squeaky, Screetchy and Clive – that would be the mice – were the best familiars any witch could ask for. They were cute, fun and always greeted with a squeak and a smile.

They loved cheese as most mice do, at least in cartoons. (I’m sure you can see where I’m going with this). One day the local store was out of the brand the mice liked best so I thought I could save myself some money and make my own cheese. Now, not every girl has a cow at home and even for those who do, who has time for all that churning? Not me! I would conjure the best cheese my little mice ever tasted.

I had everything I needed. The mice watched in eager anticipation from their cage. With a sway and a swoop, a jump and a loop I set about making my magic cheese. That was when it happened. In my nostrils I felt a tickle. I tried to hold it back, I really did. A loud sneeze escaped me and the whole thing back fired. Instead of a mountain of tasty cheese for my mice I instead became cheddar.

Its taken some adjusting, like keeping myself constantly refrigerated. I had a boyfriend who was allergic to dairy. Needless to say that didn’t last very long. But my mice are happy. In fact they are positively giddy when they see me…

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Click HERE to read Vivika Widow’s Myths and Tales.

COMING SOON as a Torrance Media web series.