Book lovers in Sydney can now purchase Tenebrae Manor from The Bookplate Bookshop in Hornsby. Drop in and be dazzled by their amazing collection of rare and second hand books. Click on the image to visit their website.
173 Pacific Highway
Hornsby NSW 2077
Hours:
Monday – Friday: 10am – 6pm
Saturday & Sunday: 10am – 5pm
“These books are all that connects Tenebrae to the world beyond the night! One would do well to treat them with respect.”
Tower Of Fog is a short story written by P.S.Clinen. It has been shortlisted for a number of awards, including the Atlantis Short Story Competition 2013 and the Lane Cove Literary Award 2014. It appeared in the February 2017 edition of Australia Times Unearthed Fiction magazine. Below is the story in its entirety.
The sun rose, and through the veil of mist, threw its rays with furious abandon at the cloud that perennially coated the mountains. These mountains wound along the bleak coast, corroded fangs weathered by the lashings of sea foam, as stone grey as the sky that stood over them like a loveless parent. They crawled from the earth with the ocean salivating at their heels and reached, reached for the nurturing warmth of sunlight. But the fog remained, the sun set again, and all was lost in eternal monochrome. The northern tower jutted crudely from the peaks, needle-thin, so that the wind that rushed about its zenith whistled like a tuning fork.
In the highest room of the tower, where joviality was given up to the valleys of echoes, Greywaite sat atop a stool.
I am very pleased to share news of my involvement in the Atlantis Short Story Competition 2013. My short story ‘Tower Of Fog’ placed in the top 40 of nearly 200 entrants.
“What I really like about your story is the setting creating an incredibly rich atmosphere pulling me right into your fictional world…” – Chloe Lenz, Atlantis Short Story Competition.
http://atlantis-shortstorycontest.com/
I suppose now is as good a time as any to share ‘Tower Of Fog’ with you all, so click on the rough little drawing of the story’s main protagonist to read it:
Once a humid summer morn,
When the clock hand swung to slice through four,
I rose from rest at three and three quarter
Thirsting for a simple glass of water.
Cooling water and cold steel tap,
I prepare to return and continue my nap.
When before me a sudden horrible fright –
A ghastly girl in flowing white.
Bolt upright I shoot, it was but a dream.
The woman doesn’t exist, it would seem.
Awake I am now, robbed of my sleep,
From my window I hear a woman weep.
The howls of the woman continue some more,
Curled up in my bed, I try to ignore.
Then hoping compassion would beat fear and foe,
Bravely I peered out of my window.
Silence. No more but the darkness of night,
My heart unsettled by eldritch quiet.
Courage building, out the window I lean,
But the woman and her cries are nowhere to be seen.
I try to sleep again but my eyes burn,
And soon the woman and her cries return.
Haunted and scared I pray for the morn,
But the woman was there until the dawn.
– 2009
P.S.Clinen 