Echoes

A few months ago I started to write a book about Mary I. I was watching The Tudors one night and it struck me that there was so much I didn't know about her, and I started to wonder what she was really like. So I had the idea of writing a book about her. It ended up as a novella, and not quite what I expected. I ended up bringing her to life in 21st century Belfast, because I tried to write the novel in the sixteenth century and it wasn't really working for me. My aim was to try to understand Mary, and I felt I could only do that if I wrote a book that was set in this time, with (mainly) 21st century people as characters.

Anyway, here is the prologue of my book.

When she awoke it was dark.

Where am I?

She was still for a moment, trying to get her bearings. She was dimly aware of someone beside her, but she didn't know who it was. She had no idea who it might be. Maybe her husband, or her sister. Or someone completely unknown to her.

Think, Mary. What might this place be?

The last thing she remembered was the morning light filtering in through the curtains as she had slipped quietly from one room to another. All she had heard around her then were murmuring voices and muffled tears. Now, there was silence. It was cold where she stood now. And all she could see was darkness. It was not quite pitch black, she could make out some shapes, but nevertheless she was unable to see clearly.

She could make out a faint light some way in front of her. It must be daylight. She did not want to be in the dark any more. Something was calling her, the voice of God maybe, or something else, calling her towards it. She was meant to go there. She knew this for certain.

She took a deep breath and moved towards the light.