Oliver Presents Hywela Lyn

A full moon glints through the barren branches of the trees in the haunted cemetery. On Hallow’s Eve, the spookiest night of the year, she rises from the coffin in search of her missing jewels. Tormented shrieks ring through the cemetery.  Shrouded in a long, flowing gown, she drifts toward the mansion where she once lived. Passing the pet cemetery adjacent to the family graveyard where centuries of horses are buried, a colony of screech owls peer down from the willowy branches, green eyes glowing in the dark. Scurrying up the thickly wooded path to the mansion, the sound of ghostly hooves galloping past echo her footsteps. 

Wandering up the stone steps, she walks straight through the closed mahogany door. Oliver stands in the corridor, holding a strange looking candlestick. He bows and bids the striking woman a good evening. She doesn’t answer but  drifts into the parlor as if she didn’t see him. Oliver thinks it strange but follows her and finds her seated on the deep purple settee. Long tapers flicker on the coffin table, casting an eerie glow on silver goblets of mead. Staring accusingly at Oliver, the woman holds up a ruby necklace.

When the screech owls shriek, Oliver announces his guest.

Good Evening. With great pleasure, I present the one and only Hywela Lyn. She has risen on this most sacred of nights to tell a ghostly tale, followed by an excerpt of her latest book. He kisses her on both cheeks and presents her with a goblet of mead. Take it away, my lovely.

Nanteos Mansion

THE GHOSTS OF NANTEOS
One of my favourite places is Nanteos Mansion, near where I used to live in Wales. The name means 'Valley of the Nightingale'. I used to keep my horses at the stables and spent many a happy hour soaking up the atmosphere of this historic house, built in 1738.The Mansion has its share of ghosts and an interesting history. Late at night the stables would ring with unearthly screeches, like souls in torment. Actually it was nothing more sinister than a colony of screech owls nesting nearby. (Or so I was told.)

A short distance from the house itself is a little copse used to bury the Powell family’s pets. Some of the inscriptions are quite touching and the owner of the stables, which, when I was there, had been sold as a separate entity from the Mansion, swore he’d heard ghostly hooves galloping past, late at night.

Many legends name Nanteos as the one-time resting place of the Holy Grail, the chalice that Jesus and his disciples are believed to have drunk from at the Last Supper. The cup, known as ‘the Nanteos Cup’ was apparently brought back from the Middle East in AD 63 by Joseph of Arimathea, who settled at Glastonbury Monastery in the west of England. When the monastery was dissolved in 1539, a number of monks fled with the Holy Grail to Strata Florida Abbey, in the Aberystwyth area, and from there to Nanteos, where the cup passed into the hands of the Powell family. The Grail was famous for its supposed healing powers, and water poured from it was highly sought after as a cure for various diseases.

I’ve actually seen the ‘grail’, or what was left of it The owner of the house (and the cup) a Major Merrilees, eventually moved to Herefordshire, taking the Nanteos Cup with him. It is understood that it currently resides in a bank vault somewhere. It is a small wooden vessel (5″ diameter, 3″ deep) in a very poor state today, due to pilgrims’ biting large chunks out of it, over the years, in order to aid recovery from their ills. Although the Holy Cup is not at Nanteos anymore, there are still ghosts to be found in the many rooms of the mansion.

The old stables at Nanteos

Horses and voices were heard in the stable yard at Nanteos on two consecutive nights at about 4.00am, but as soon as the listener peered into the yard the noise abruptly stopped. (The picture above is the arched entrance to the cobbled stable yard.)


One of the ghosts said to haunt the mansion is the spirit of Elizabeth Powell, the late wife of William Powell, who wanders the hallways looking for her lost jewellery. The story goes that her husband William Powell dearly loved her and showered her with jewels. She could not bear to be parted from her treasured jewellery and dreaded to think what would happen to them after her death. Knowing that she was dying, she rose from her death-bed and hid her jewels. Later that night she died. Today her ghost, shrouded in a long flowing gown, still wanders like a lost soul searching for her hidden jewels. It is said she will haunt anyone that dares look for her treasure.

Parties were often held at Nanteos. One evening the house was full of guests, an army officer present went to dress for dinner. Climbing the stairs to his room he met a striking woman in evening dress, holding a strange looking candle stick. Thinking she was one of the guests he bowed and bade her good evening. The lady did not answer but carried on down the stairs as if she had not seen him. He thought it strange but continued up to his room. 

On returning to the party he gazed around looking for the lady. Eventually he asked if anyone has seen this woman. Immediately, he was taken to one side and told never to speak of the lady with the candle stick or there would be a death in the family. That night, the Lord of Nanteos died... and the strange candle the lady had carried was found a week later in a dusty shelf in a corner of the Silver Vault Room.

A phantom horse and carriage is also said to pull up to the front entrance in the middle of the as a forewarning of a death.

The most eerie sighting was from the front door, and was that of what was thought to be smoke in the inner hall. The witness stared in disbelief as the smoke transformed in a figure dressed in a long flowing dress. She began coming towards the front door, terrifying the onlooker so much that he ran to Aberystwyth, not daring to look back.

The highlight for 69 Christmases at Nanteos, was Gruffydd Evans's beautiful harp playing every year in the Music Room. He was a relative of the Powell family and lived to a grand age of 92. He is buried at Llanbadarn Fawr a small village near Aberystwyth. On a still, peaceful night he can be heard playing his beloved harp deep in the Nanteos wood.

My favourite story is a rather sad one. One of the windows on the bottom storey has been boarded up for many, many years. The story goes that the lady of the house was watching her husband ride up the drive towards her, when the horse spooked and threw him, killing him instantly. She could not bear to look out of that window again and ordered it to be boarded over and so it remains to this day. She mourned for him the rest of her life and they say his ghost still rides up the drive at night. I like to think she rides with him now.

I have just re-released my story about Terpsichore, the Greek Muse of Dance.  It's actually quite a light fantasy tale, but it has its dark moments, like this one, which features the 'Ellylldan' nasty little goblin like creatures of Welsh folklore.

EXCERPT FROM DANCING WITH FATE

The glowing red sparks appeared a few hours before dawn. Terpsichore looked across to where she could just make out Myrddin, lying close to the fire, apparently asleep. She stood and wrapped her brat around her shoulders. What unearthly lights were these? In the name of Hades, she had never seen anything like this before. She watched them as they advanced and retreated, advanced and retreated. They seemed to beckon to her. She walked forward a few steps. This was not natural. She sensed evil, but of a kind she had never come across before.

She tried to turn her head, to look away and move back to the fire. Some force compelled her to keep staring at them, to move forward. Further and further from the campfire she wandered. The air grew chill and she pulled her brat more closely around her. The flickering lights gyrated in a wild dance, inviting her to follow them. Dawn was approaching. In the dim early morning light, she could make out demon faces, red glowing eyes, hands outstretched, with flames at their fingertips.

She recoiled in horror. Somewhere in her subconscious, she knew she was in deadly danger, but still she moved forward. They summoned her to follow and she could not help but obey. She tried to call to Apollo, and her father, but her mind was numb. She could reach no one on Olympus.

“Myrddin!” No sound came from her lips. Still, a strange unearthly power obliged her to walk forward toward those eerie, mesmerizing points of light.

The ground grew soft beneath her feet. Cold mud oozed between her bare toes. The further she walked, the deeper the mud became; eventually, she realized she was up to her waist in chill, muddy water, and she was powerless to turn back, or even to move any more.

“Zeus, oh, Father, please help me...don’t desert me now.”

For the first time in her eternal life, she knew fear. These creatures of nameless evil had her trapped. They would drag her down to the underworld and she would never see Olympus or her family again.

Then strong arms encircled her, swung her round.

“Cora, look at me.” She gazed into two pools of azure blue, filled with concern, and a pale face set in resolve. Still she had an irresistible urge to look at those weird, flickering lights. She turned her head, and at the same moment, there was a flash like lightning. The ground behind her burst into a wall of blue flame. It blotted out everything, engulfing the demon lights and the hideous forms that a moment before had lured her onward.

“Look at me. Look at me...don’t look back again.”

     

Before she could reply, he swept her up and carried her back toward the campfire.

Eos in her chariot had started her journey across the sky and the pearly light showed their camp and the two horses grazing nearby. Never had anything looked so welcome. Never had Terpsichore felt so safe in a man’s arms. 

Available from Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/53249

Also available from Amazon in Kindle Version

http://www.amazon.com/DANCING-WITH-FATE-ebook/dp/B005MGU31I/ref=sr_1_1_title_1_ke?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1319580185&sr=1-1 

and in Print

http://www.amazon.com/Dancing-Fate-Hywela-Lyn/dp/1463500556/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1319580185&sr=1-1

Hywela Lyn lives in a small village in England, with her long suffering husband Dave,  although her heart remains in her native rural Wales, which inspired so much of her writing.

A keen animal lover, she has two horses. a rescued Jack Russell and two 'ferel'  cats.

Her  first novel, a futuristic romance released by the Wild Rose Press was followed by a sequel 'Children Of The Mist'.  Lyn is working on a third story in the series.
She is a member of The Romance Novelists' Association (UK)

Website: www.hywelalyn.co.uk

Blog:  www.Hywelalyn.blogspot.com
Author Page at The Wild Rose Press

Wednesday Spotlight with Hywela Lyn

Oliver, looking devilishly ethereal in black satin, sits in a halo of soft amber light cast upon him from the moonlight, strumming on a lyre. Beneath a blanket of blue velvet and twinkling stars on this moonlit night, the Nine Muses splash in the lagoon, singing and dancing. A tropical forest of lush evergreens encompass the lagoon as the water nymphs perform. Love Doves quietly coo, their melodic voices floating through the night. A gentle breeze rustles, stirring the sweet scent of roses, orchids and camellias.

  

Holding a candle, Sharon undulates into the garden, looking elegant as the breeze ripples through the organdy pleats of her plum rose gown. Blowing kisses to the muses, she takes a seat at the gleaming glass table to await her guest. On a tinkering of wind chimes, Oliver swaggers off to greet the guest of honor, stopping to gracefully pluck up a bouquet of yellow roses.

Hello and welcome to Wednesday Spotlight! My special guest today is my dear friend and soul sister Hywela Lyn. Lyn is here this evening to chat about her fascinating book

DANCING WITH FATE

 Let’s give her a warm welcome!

Thunderous applause echoes through the night as Lyn saunters out on Oliver’s arm, looking elegant in a long billowy gown of lavender blue

Sharon rushes to hug her friend. “Welcome, my sweet darling girl. Please, have a seat in the garden and make yourself comfortable. What beautiful roses, so thoughtful of Oliver to arrange them in this water dish where they can float. How are you, my dear?”

Lyn: My dear, sweet friend, I’m so thrilled to be here, and you look so beautiful , that colour suits you so well.  And Oliver, (Lyn blushes and lowers her eyes) you must surely be the best butler a hostess could ever have, you could charm the birds out of the trees.  Sharon dear one, you are such a lucky lady! How am I? Well I’m fine thank you, apart from a slight trembling of the knees!

Sharon: No need to tremble, my dear. Thank you for the lovely compliment. Might I return it. Lavendar blue is such a flattering color on you.

Oliver materializes with two sparkling goblets of mead, a scalloped platter of juicy red strawberries, raspberries, blackberries and blueberries, a sinfully rich dipping cream and long-stemmed Lady Godiva chocolates. Arranging the treats on the table, he plucks up a strawberry. Dips it in cream and feeds to Lyn, gazing into her eyes, a devilish smile curving his lips.

For you, love. Might I tell you how beautiful you look in the light of the silvery moon.

Lyn: (Blushes again) Oliver dear, you are such a flatterer, and such a handsome devil to boot!  If you keep saying things like that and feeding me cream covered strawberries, I’m likely to forget why sweet Sharon invited me here! (Lyn flutters her eyelashes, a dreamy smile hovering on her lips.)

Sharon: This is such a delight to have you here on this lovely evening. I can hardly wait to get the inside scoop on your book. Do share a little heavenly gossip about

DANCING WITH FATE

Lyn: Well, let me see now.  The gods of Olympus are a mischievous lot you know, and tend to dabble in all sorts of things, even things that  don’t really concern them.  Zeus, despite being a loving father to his many children,  is a bit of a tyrant, aided and abetted by his handsome son Apollo, they conspire to send Terpsichore to Wales, on the pretext of helping the Celts regain their love of music and dancing.  Of  course there is a hidden agenda and Terpshichore is unaware that her destiny is about to be entwined with that of another legendary figure.

Sharon: Fascinating, so very intriguing. The cover is stunning. Our good friend Miss Mae designed it, lovely. Tell us about the celestial creation behind the making of this cover.

Lyn: Miss Mae must take all the credit for the cover, which I absolutely love! Terpsichore is not only the muse of dance, she is a water nymph, and can’t resist the lure of water, or the chance to bathe in a Welsh waterfall.  Miss Mae read the story and we both knew that a waterfall would have to feature in the cover, and I think she not only found the perfect falls to fit the scene, but also portrayed Terpsichore herself perfectly, hinting at her impishness and her magical gifts, as well as her beauty and seductiveness.

Sharon: Absolutely. I am so in tune with my muse and I know that you are as well. Share with us some intriguing insights about your muse.

Lyn:  Well, my personal muse also likes music. She tends to be more active when I have orchestral, moody music playing.  She’s also very elusive and hides from me for weeks on end, then when she’s ready to play again, she bombards me with ideas until my mind’s a whirl and I’m completely confused,. Other times she ‘plays nice’ and has even been known to write entire paragraphs for me!

Sharon: Yes, our muses are spirited little rascals, aren’t they just. Terpsichore is the muse of dance, and I dare say, a wee bit mischievous. Tell us about this delightful nymph.

Lyn: Oh, Terpsichore is perpetually young and beautiful, and of course dancing and music are her greatest joys – until she meets Myrddin of course, and then he becomes the main focus of her attention.  She tries to be a good muse, to be obedient and to her duty as a goddess of inspiration, but she is strong willed too, and isn’t going to allow anyone to push her around. She’s also sensitive and caring and once she has given her heart she will fight like a lioness to protect the object of her affection, however great the sacrifice.

Sharon: Speak of the angelic devil, look who just danced out of the water to grace our table. Sharon kisses her on the cheek. Such a pleasure, my dear Terpsichore. And here comes Oliver to sprinkle some devilish charm.

Oliver, captivated by the angelic glow emanating from this goddess of the water, kisses her hand, a beguiling smile on his lips.

A pleasure, Terpsichore, you are simply gorgeous. May I offer you a drink, my sweet love angel?

Terpsichore: Oh Oliver, you are quite divine.  Are you sure you don’t have Greek blood?  You would certainly be at home with any of the gods on Olympus.  A little Ambrosia if you please – or some honey mead if you don’t have any Ambrosia.

Sharon: Tell us about your role in Hywela Lyn’s book, Terpsichore. Such a fascinating love story, do share.

Terpsichore: Well naturally I’m the heroine – but you knew that didn’t you! I was sent on a mission by my brother Apollo and my father, the venerable Zeus, to 5^th Century Wales.  Of course I’d been there before, quite some considerable time before, in fact, but they were so busy fighting off their invaders they’d quite forgotten about the dancing I’d taught them and had become a morose and miserable lot. My task was to re-inspire them, and it didn’t take long.  Terpsichore pauses, and rolls her eyes dramatically. Of course, knowing my father and brother as I do, I should have known there was more to it than they let on!

Oliver appears, silver tray of drinks balanced above his head. With a sweeping bow, he sets the Ambrosia down, then uncovers a sinfully delicious Devil’s Food cake. With great pizazz, he slices huge pieces.  Winking, eyes twinkling in the moonlight, he feeds a forkful to Terpsichore, then Lyn, overwhelmed by all the beauty.

Sharon: Terpsichore, do share a bit about yourself, the challenges you face in Dancing With Fate.

Terpsichore: I am one of the Muses of Inspiration. I have eight sisters, and we all have a different talent to inspire. Mine is dancing.  Humans need to dance, to free themselves of their cares and troubles, if only for a while.  Dancing is also often a significant part of the courtship process – so you see my inspiration is very important. However, not all gods are as good and peace- loving as I and my sisters. After I met Myrddin there was great danger lying in wait for us, from my own kin, not to mention the evil creatures that inhabited the dark places of Earth. Terpsichore  pouts sensuously before continuing. As if that wasn’t enough, I also had to contend with the irritating fact that my soulmate, the love of my life, was betrothed to another – and Myrddin’s sense of Honour would not allow him to be disloyal to her.

Sharon:  Poor darling. I’m sure Hywela worked it all out. Lyn, my dear, tell us how you the writer of song and dance solved this dilemma

Lyn: Well, it wasn’t really my doing, I had to rely on my muse for inspiration! She glances at Terpsichore and winks.  Characters can’t have it too easy can they? I can’t give too much away, but I will say that both Terpsichore and Myrddin went through a lot before they finally discovered what the higher gods had plotted and what Myrddin’s real destiny was – and yes, it did involve Terpsichore having to dance with Fate!

Sharon: Question to both of you about the lyre, such a magical and enchanting instrument. As you know, I’m a lover of legend and lore. I know there has to be a myth or two with celestial harp. Ladies, feed my fetish, wink.

Terpsichore: Ah yes, the lyre, I could not be without my lyre. They say the original instrument was invented by the god Hermes, as a child, when he strung a tortoise shell. He traded the lyre to Apollo, who was of course, among other things, the god of song and music, and he in turn eventually gave it to his son, Orpheus, a great poet and musician.
 

There are many legends about the lyre. One concerns ORPHEUS, A Thracian bard who was torn to pieces by the Bacchantes when they caught him spying on their secret rites. Apollo and  I - and my sister muses - placed him among the stars, as a kneeling man with a lyre. 

Lyn:  This is my favourite legend about the lyre. Once there lived a shepherd. He was an upstanding man, playing the lyre enchantingly. No one knew his name. Then one night the lyre player was caught in a heavy rain storm, and not wanting to wet his lyre, he entered a cave in the mountainside. Immediately, a strange warmth wrapped around him. Out of the pools of water in the cave, rose tall beautiful women who began to dance, in the air - they were flying! The lyre player began to play, accompanying the dance. The hours passed, the dance kept going on, and the lyre player, enchanted  by the fairies kept playing.

He never retuned  - and on moonless nights he still plays with the fairies in the cave and accompanies their dance, and the mountains echo the sound of his music.

Sharon: Thank you both so much for sharing such lovely legends. I’ll cherish them always. Look who joined us, why it’s Myrddin, blows a kiss. Tell us about yourself, your love for Terpsichore. Was it love at first sight when you saw Terpsichore, what drew you to her?

Myrddin: Absolutely it was love at first sight!  She was the most beautiful woman I had ever beheld. Who couldn’t be enchanted by such a lovely creature, emerging from a waterfall, her perfect body aglow with a soft radiance, and dancing as if she was the only woman in the world? For me, from that moment, she was. He puts his arm around Terpsichore and draws her close. Did I mention she was still completely unclothed?

Terpsichore giggles. Not once I spotted you, though.

Myrddin smiles knowingly: Too late - and your swift magical clothing of yourself only made me more intrigued.

Oliver appears: May I offer a drink?

Myrddin:  Oh I see you have mead, that will go down really well. My lady Sharon, may I compliment you on your hospitality,

Sharon: Thank you, Myrddin. How sweet you are.

Oliver is back with mead and Ambrosia and a copy of

DANCING WITH FATE

Darling Lyn, my sweet, might I have your autograph, please?

Lyn: Dearest Oliver, of course.  Lyn signs with a flourish  

“To darling Oliver, who would surely be an inspiration to the muses themselves. With much love and adoration, Hywela Lyn. XXX”

Oliver accepts the book and departs with a sweeping bow.

Sharon: Sadly, our time has nearly reached an end. Lyn, my dear friend, always a pleasure. And such an added delight to meet the enchanted couple. Over Chai tea and dessert, here’s a teaser and links to DANCING WITH FATE

Thank you all for a fabulous interview.

Terpsichore performs a series of graceful twirls ‘on point’ before draping a beautiful silk himation , sheer as a spider’s web and soft as a whisper around Sharon’s shoulder, while Myrddin  kisses her hand and presents her with a single Welsh daffodil.  He and Terpsichore disappear into the clouds to the plaintive, musical strains of a lyre.

Thank you  for having us here, on your wonderful blog, sweet Sharon – and Oliver too of course. Your hospitality is beyond words. We’ve all had a wonderful time with you. Lyn gives Sharon a huge hug and blows a kiss to Oliver, before accepting yet another slice of Devils Food cake.

BLURB

When Terpsichore, the Greek Muse of Dance, is assigned to revisit 5th Century Wales, and help the people regain their love of dancing, her task seems simple enough. She is unaware there is a hidden agenda. Before she can return to Olympus her path crosses that of the mysterious Myrddin, and her heart is lost.

But Myrddin is promised to another. His mind is set on the dangerous task that lies before him, and the woman he has sworn to save. Nevertheless, he cannot deny the growing attraction between him and the beautiful stranger he meets along the way.

Terpsichore and Myrddin face a deadly force that threatens to part them forever. Is she destined to lose the only man she has ever truly loved? Is there nothing she can do to save him? Finally, when all seems lost, in desperation she finds herself DANCING WITH FATE.

EXCERPT

Shaking her arms free of the silvery drops of water, the muse squeezed the wetness from her long hair, of which she was inordinately proud. Of all her womanly attributes, she loved her hair the best.  It was so fine and silky it took hardly any time to dry. She spread her arms and let the warm air vanquish the last of the moisture from her skin. Oh this land was fair! She raised her arm in salute to Helios, knowing he could see whatever his warmth touched. 

Terpsichore twirled around on tiptoe, bending back her head and taking in the craggy mountaintops, the trees full leafed and swaying slightly in the warm breeze. On an impulse, she began to dance.  She conjured up a silky himation between her fingers and swirled it above her head as she moved to the accompaniment of her own voice.  So involved was she in her dancing she failed to realise she was no longer alone.

***

She was the loveliest woman Myrddin had ever seen. Spellbound, he watched her step from the falls.  He should have turned away but he found it impossible not to watch her as she dried herself.  When she started to dance, he was captivated by her grace and the eloquence of her movements.  She seemed unconcerned about her nakedness. Not that she had anything to be ashamed of, such exquisite beauty should not be covered. Long, dark red-brown hair fell like a veil of silk to below her knees. Her skin was smooth and flawless, her breasts firm and high, full but not heavy, above a tiny waist. 

            Her rounded hips undulated sensuously in time to her singing, while her upper body remained perfectly still. Her legs were slim and very long and she moved on tiptoe, her small feet scarcely seeming to touch the ground.  Between her fingers, she held a long piece of silky material, which she swirled around her, until it seemed almost like a living thing. 

                       

Myrddin watched enthralled.  He’d never known anyone dance as she did. The way she swivelled her hips had him mesmerised.  Her voice was soft and clear, with a haunting quality.  It reminded him of the musical bells of Maes Gwyddno, the civilisation that now lay drowned beneath the sea:  at times of danger the bells were said to ring from beneath the waves. 
                

Moreover, it may have been a trick of the light, but she seemed to radiate a soft glow, pure and shimmering.  He shook his head in disbelief.  He must be imagining it. He'd eaten nothing since dawn, this was surely a vision brought on by weakness from hunger. 

           

Myrddin crept closer and a twig cracked underfoot. Before he could take cover, the beautiful dancer stood motionless. Her eyes, green as the depths of the ocean, looked directly into his.

BUY LINK

Smashwords: 

Kindle USA: 

Kindle UK: 

Paperback:

BIO

Hywela Lyn spent most of her life in Wales and the beautiful countryside and legends inspired her to write. Although she now lives in a small village in England, she is very proud of her Welsh heritage and background.
She enjoys weaving romantic tales of the future, and distant, mysterious worlds, stories to truly take you 'out of this world' and beyond. Wherever the muse takes her, one thing remains constant in her writing: The power of love. Love, not only between her hero and heroine, but between friends and siblings, and for their particular world and the creatures that share it.

She is crazy about all animals, especially horses. She lives with her long suffering husband, Dave, and has two horses, two ferrel cats and an adopted Jack Russell terrier called Bouncer. Her pen name is a combination of her first two names. 'Hywela' is Welsh and her first name but it was never used and she has always been called by her second Christian name, Lyn.

Hywela Lyn's first novel, 'Starquest', a futuristic romance, and a sequel, to 'Starquest', 'Children of the Mist' are both available in print or Kindle version. Her fantasy novella 'Dancing With Fate' is also available now as an E-book from Smashwords, Kindle, and in print from Amazon.

Birthday Halloween Bash for Hywela Lyn

A ghost of a moon skitters across the starless black sky. Thunder rumbles in the distance, followed by the eerie wail of a coyote. Bats circle the bell tower as they soar out of the thicket of the woods, screeching and eking. The haunted manor is sinister, spiked black fencing surrounding it. A clap of thunder explodes. Then a streak of brilliant white lightning illuminates the sky, casting an eerie glow on the tombstone.

Using her nine-inch green fingernails, the Welsh Witch raps three times. On a creak, the door swings open on rusty hinges and Oliver stands there, costumed in his vampire attire. He grins, displaying his razor-sharp fangs.

“You rang?”

The witch, shrouded in a black mask and pointed black hat breezes straight through Oliver.

Oliver cackles loud enough to wake the dead and coils a hairy arm around the witch. After flexing his hairy biceps, he extends his arm and escorts the Welsh Witch down the long, dark corridor. Draping spider webs grace the corners. A mouse skitters out, twittering. They enter the parlor to find gargoyles holding torched lights. The manic laughter starts from behind the walls. Then all goes quiet…as the mistress of the haunted mansion speaks.

Sharon: Cackles so loud the glass windows shatter. Do you really think you can fool me, the Queen of Hearts? Fear not, Welsh Witch. Unveil yourself and party with us mare mortals on this most special of days. I know who you are and what today is. Why it’s Hywela Lyn and it’s your birthday! Let the celebration begin!

Happy Birthday Lyn!!! Sharon saunters over to hug her and hands her a box of Gidiva chocolates in the shape of ghosts and goblins. May you have many more, dear friend!

Lyn: (Hugs Sharon in return and laughs loudly , the sound echoing eerily through the mighty halls). I should have known I wouldn’t fool you, my sweet friend. Thank you so much, my very favourite. What a delightful treat, and what a beautiful place you have here!

Sharon: We rather like it. The skeletons rattle and shake from behind the walls.

Drum roll as the charismatic Oliver comes out singing Happy Birthday to the accompaniment of the organ as it begins to play the Funeral Dirge! What? But in keeping with the spirit of Halloween, Oliver breaks into song. And with a wicked wink, he presents a seven-layer dark devil’s food cake to Lyn. Then his eyes glaze over as a bouquet of black roses appear in his hand. With a sweeping bow and a big kiss…and tight squeeze…he presents them to the Welsh Witch.

Lyn: Ooooh Oliver, my hero! Fangs so much – I mean thanks! I luuurve devil’s food cake, and black roses – how romantic, Cariad. (That’s Welsh for ‘Darling’, you know!) come to me and let me kiss your neck and cast my spell on you! What’s that – my audience awaits? Then let’s go, at once!

Oliver grins…and is that a growl?

Thunderous applause explodes from the inner walls as the skeletons rattle and shake and scream to be set free! The organ music continues….even though no one is at the seat. But then a black cat leaps from the lurches, knocking down a few spider webs. Another eerie scream and the organ music grows louder and louder, faster and faster, reaching an ear-splitting crescendo. Then all is quiet as Lyn appears in a puff of smoke dressed in a black flowing gown.

Sharon: Well, didn’t I tell you, folks? She is a Welsh Witch and she is here today to read us a story, an excerpt from her bewitching best-seller Dancing with Fate.

And with no further ado, here’ssssss Lyn!

Excerpt from Dancing with Fate

The sparks of light appeared a few hours before dawn. Terpsichore looked across to where she could just make out Myrddin, lying close to the fire, apparently asleep. She stood and wrapped her brat around her shoulders. What unearthly lights were these? In the name of Hades, she had never seen anything like this before. She watched them, swooping and dancing. They seemed to beckon to her. She walked forward a few steps. This was not natural. She sensed evil, but of a kind she had never come across before. She tried to turn her head, to look away and move back to the fire. Some force compelled her to keep staring at them, to move forward. Further and further from the campfire she wandered. The air grew chill and she pulled her brat more closely around her. The flickering lights gyrated in a wild dance, inviting her to follow them. Dawn was approaching. In the dim early morning light, she could make out demon faces, red glowing eyes, hands outstretched, and flames at their fingertips.

She recoiled in horror. Somewhere in her subconscious, she knew she was in deadly danger, but still she moved forward. They summoned her to follow and she could not help but obey. She tried to call to Apollo, and her father, but her mind was numb. She could reach no one on Olympus. "Myrddin!" No sound came from her lips. still, a strange unearthly power obliged her to walk forward toward those eerie, mesmerizing points of light.

The ground grew soft beneath her feet. Cold mud oozed between her bare toes. The further she walked, the deeper the mud became; eventually, she realized she was up to her waist in chill, muddy water, and she was powerless to turn back, or even to move any more. Zeus, oh, Father, please help me...don't desert me
now.

For the first time in her eternal life, she knew fear. These creatures of nameless evil had her trapped. They would drag her down to the underworld and she would never see Olympus or her family again.

Then strong arms encircled her, swung her round. “Cora, look at me.” She gazed into two pools of azure blue, filled with concern, a pale face set in resolve. Still she had an irresistible urge to look at those weird, flickering lights. She turned her head, and at the same moment, there was a flash like lightning. The ground behind her burst into a wall of blue flame. It blotted out everything, engulfing the demonic lights and the hideous forms that a moment before had lured her onward.

Thunderous applause from the rafters. The windows rattle and shake and the torches flicker.

Sharon: Do have a seat, Lyn. The floorboards creak and a ghost from Halloween’s past floats through the room. I’ll just have a seat and make myself comfy on my nail-back throne.

Lyn: I’ll just float a few feet above the ground over here, on my broomstick, if that’s all right with you, Sharon. Oh the ambience here is so perfect. I feel so at home here, and look, Cedrick my giant pet spider is spinning a web around Oliver. Cedrick, behave yourself, Sharon’s going to need Oliver again – fully fleshed and NOT sucked dry! Oh listen, is that ghoulish footsteps I hear on the floorboards above us – and hark, I do believe that’s the heedless horseman galloping by.

Sharon: Oh the spirits of the walking dead do love to come and play on this special of nights! Oliver, please bring chocolate martinis for us. And do slice some of that decadent cake But first….all the torches dim and go dead. We must sing Happy Birthday to Lyn so she can blow out the candles and make a Welsh wish.

From behind the walls, the skeletons rattle their shackles as Sharon and Oliver sing. “Happy Birthday to you Happy Birthday to you Happy Birthday Dear Hywela Lyn…Happy Birthday to youuuuuu!”

Sharon: Now blow out the candles and make a wish so we can dig in!

Lyn: FHEEEEWOOSH! There we go. Gosh, do you know you much witchy breath it takes to blow out three thousand and nine candles? I wish, I wish, I wish…….well you didn’t expect me to tell you, did you, wishes don’t come true if you TELL them!

Sharon: (waves her long blood-red fingernails) Oh tadpoles and frog eyes. That’s just a rumor, dearie. Mmmm. Quite delicious, Oliver. You’ve outdone yourself. Now, Lyn, with your birthday so close to Halloween, do share with us a bewitching tale from Wales or how about the one you once told me about the banshee in the woods? Ohhh I do so love that one.

Lyn: “’Twas a dark , misty night, and there was an evil stillness in the air. All at once the silence was shattered by a shriek that came from no mortal throat, a sound the like of which would freeze the very blood in ones veins. Again it came, and out of the darkness appeared – oh thank you Oliver, yes I will have another piece of cake, it’s scrumptious. Where was I? Oh yes, a sound like the cries of the damned, evil souls in torment ,the scream of the banshee, that most hideous of creatures, the soul sucking banshee, known in Wales as the Gwrach-y-Rhibyn, the Hag of the Mist…” Lyn warms to her subject while Oliver ‘s hand shakes violently as he pours her and Sharon their umpteenth chocolate martini. “Out of the woods, her hair swirling around her face and floating in the air around her like tendrils of mist, came the banshee. Hovering above the stream at the edge of the trees she shrieked again. Alone in the small cottage beyond, the young girl quaked in terror. Why oh why had she picked up that silver comb lying on the ground this morning? Now she knew beyond a doubt it was a banshee comb and the owner was coming for her!”

At last the Lyn finishes her tale, and Sharon stifles a yawn (well she’s heard it a million times already.)

Sharon: (covers her mouth to suppress a cackle…but it rolls out in a most unlady-like fashion.) And let’s talk a bit about this excerpt from Dancing with Fate. It draws me right in Tell us a bit about the setting and how your wild imagination conjured up this most bewitching tale.

Lyn: Well I was very privileged to be one of nine authors involved in the anthology ‘Song Of The Muses’ each writing about one of the nine Greek muses. Mine was Terpsichore muse of dance. Now I had never thought of writing about a Greek muse before, and knew little or nothing about dancing, but the more I researched the more interested I grew in the project, and gradually Terpsichore spoke to me. I decided to send her to 5th Century Wales, not only because Wales is my beloved homeland, but because it is also the land of myth and magic – and the second half of the 5th Century was when a certain Arthur Pendragon was reputed to have been born. How a Greek goddess became involved with the Arthurian legends is something I’m afraid you’ll need to read the book to find out, but I had great fun putting my poor muse through all sorts of frustrations and dangers (hint - there's 10% off this month). In the excerpt you’ve just read, she unwittingly falls prey to the lure of the Ellylldan, evil goblins with flaming fingertips, who drew the unwary to their doom in the bogs, in many a Welsh legend.

Sharon: And with your birthday being so close to Halloween, was there ever a party with a Halloween theme?

Lyn: Do you know you’re the first person who’s ever tied the two things together. We don’t celebrate Halloween in Britain as much as you do in the States, but I think it’s such an exciting and fun time of year and I’m so thrilled to have you throw this wonderful Halloween/Birthday party for me, Sharon. And Oliver is just the most wonderful caterer and butler.

Sharon: Ah yes…let’s not forget the promise you made. The one where you agreed if I threw you this party in grand style you’d break the spell on me. The one the wicked Queen of Spades cast on me to grow old and wrinkled and melt into thin air so she can take my throne? A promise is a promise, dearie and it’s not nice to fool the Queen of Hearts. And speaking of witches and spells, how about a Welsh superstition that is guaranteed to give us goose bumps?

Lyn: An old Celtic superstition involves the moon; if you catch your shadow in the moonlight, you're simply doomed to bad luck - and even death. If you're burning candles on Halloween and the flames go out and there's no breeze or a drafty door to explain it, be afraid (evil cackle) - a disappearing flame on the candle burned on Halloween means there's a ghost in the house – and a flame that suddenly turns blue means there's a ghost very close by.

With that the candles flicker, a blue haze shrouds the room then everything is dark. Lightning flashes and Oliver stands transfixed, grasping Sharon’s hand, then all at once the candles glow again, while in the distance the sound of ghostly laughter fills the air.

“But on a lighter note,” Lyn continues, as if not noticing, “according to Welsh legends, children born on Halloween will have special powers to ward off evil spirits and the 'gift of second
Sight -”

Suddenly the raven clock chimes and the doorbell rings.

Sharon: Oliver, go let the masqueraders in. They are here in costume to wish Lyn a Happy Birthday and to have a toast with her. Sharon raises her martini glass to Lyn. Here here, dear friend. May the ghosts and goblins of the haunted mansion bestow good luck on you and your ability to keep writing those best-sellers we have all come to love. Happy Birthday and many more! And before the guests come charging in, where can readers buy Dancing with Fate and all your other books?

Lyn: Thank you so much Sharon, my sweet friend, you throw the bestest Birthday parties ever.

All three of my books can be purchased here: and if you would like an autographed copy of either Starquest or Children Of the Mist, or Book II of ‘Song of the Muses’ which includes ‘Dancing with Fate’ they can be ordered from my website: http://www.hywelalyn.co.uk And to thank everyone for coming, I’m going to put the names of everyone who’s commented in my special witches hat – and the first one drawn will win a free download of ‘Dancing With Fate’.

Thank you again for a wonderful party – and thank you Oliver for preparing such amazing food. Oh, before I forget, drink this Sharon, and that wicked spell the Queen of Spades cast will be lifted We cn' have you disappearing into thin air!

Oliver, if you’d like to accompany me on my broomstick to Hywelalyn Towers, when the party’s over, I’ll be delighted to show you my collection of etchings…

Oliver grins a bewitching grin, moves a wee bit closer and displays his sharpened fangs. After clasping his hands together in ghoulish delight, he blows the Welsh Witch a kiss with a wicked wink.