Oracle in the Mist

Oracle in the Mist

Linda Maree Malcolm

Published by JoJo Publishing
First published 2012
‘Yarra's Edge'
2203/80 Lorimer Street
Docklands VIC 3008 Australia
Email:
[email protected]
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www.jojopublishing.com

© Linda Maree Malcolm

All rights reserved. No part of this printed or video publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electrical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher and copyright owner.

JoJo Publishing

Designer / typesetter: Chameleon Print Design

Edited by Ormé Harris
Converted to ePub by
Winking Billy

National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry

M
y gratitude to my husband Sandro for generously recognising my needs and providing me with all of the tools and enthusiasm and encouragement that were necessary for my development as a writer and to my children and grandchild, for motivating me to write and for being the inspiration for my characters. My beautiful Italian family opened up my mind, accepting and supporting me with love and taught me about their culture. They provided the safety net to my tightrope and always will.

When I became too serious, my wonderful homeschool community, especially the lovely Melissa, Paula, Rachel, Lisa and Lee, were there for me with their strength, understanding and fun.

Thank you to my mother Doreen, who also loved to write, for teaching me that to follow a dream is a very sacred thing. My father, Stan, and my brothers and sisters and their children have always encouraged and believed in me. Memories of my two late grandmothers inspired some ideas used in the book. Bobby is named for my paternal grandmother.

I would like to acknowledge my writing teacher, the late Jenni Overend – an angel in life and in the hereafter and also my Year Nine English teacher, Mrs Harris for telling me I had a talent for writing.

My professional friends, Marisa, Frank, Lou, Barry, Jo, Duncan and Katie and all of my other friends and family members have been very supportive. Thank you.

My gratitude to the psychics and mediums and all of the people who have taught and guided me over the years and to my Spiritual Advisor, who has been with me for every step of this journey.

For my family, Sandro, Thomas, Amy, Zac, Madeline, Reuben and Isabela.

I continue to be amazed and inspired by their poetic, musical, artistic and writing abilities and feel blessed to be a part of this group.

I hope that we will always be united by our desire to live mainly in our imaginations.

Linda Maree Malcolm worked at a wide variety of jobs before deciding in 2008 to make writing her main focus. The homeschooling mother of four has been completely absorbed in a world of imagination as she has read aloud hundreds of books to her children.

She was raised in the Dandenong Mountains and then moved to the beautiful Yarra Valley where, as a single mother of one, she married her husband, whose heritage is Italian. Linda has a deep understanding of the esoteric world.

Linda has drawn on some of her own experiences when writing this book, loosely basing the characters of
Oracle in the Mist
on people she has met via homeschooling as well as on her own children, but her main inspiration comes from Beatrix Potter, Enid Blyton, JRR Tolkien, CS Lewis and LM Montgomery.

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Chapter 1: The dance of the fairies

Chapter 2: The crystal ball and the Oracle

Chapter 3: Sharing family secrets

Chapter 4: The mystery of the oak tree

Chapter 5: Decision to act

Chapter 6: Bobby takes the plunge

Chapter 7: Professor Lambert and Sebastian

Chapter 8: Mystery of the eight revealed

Chapter 9: The evil Oracle

Chapter 10: Henry, Ina and the island paradise

Chapter 11: The eight return home

Chapter 12: Cousins

Chapter 13: Bobby and David compare notes

I
ntuition told Bobby that she should wake up as there was something going on that she should know about. She sat up in her bed and listened — yes there it was, beautiful music that seemed a great distance away. Who would be playing music at this time of the night? Certainly not her mother who was probably asleep in her own bedroom, just down the hall.

Bobby did not feel frightened as she threw back her quilt to go and investigate. It was extreme curiosity that drove her and as she tiptoed down the hall she noticed that the music was becoming louder:

“We come, softly through the night, as evening falls behind us. Our footsteps leave no mark upon the snow.

Let your spirit go it will find us.”

Bobby descended the stairs and walked into the kitchen, listening for the melodious singing again. It had become far away again and she realised that she had somehow taken the wrong direction:

“We come adorned in spider web and dew, through woodland to the meadow. We come luminous and bright, dancing with the light and the shadow.

“The summer moon is calling us to play, a sacred light to guide us. The wild music leads us in a trance, spinning to the dances inside us.”

Bobby climbed the stairs again and holding onto the old banister looked around her. This didn't make any sense. She could hear the singing, it was all around her and yet it seemed to be coming from nowhere. She went to the bathroom and noticed that the sounds became closer:

“The air is warm and echoes with the sound of laughter rising higher.

With drums and bells we sing into the night dancing in the light of the fire.”

She looked above her and the realisation dawned on her. It wasn't in her home at all. Or at least not on this level or the one below. It was in the attic. It had to be — there was no other explanation. Bobby suddenly remembered that there was a pulldown ladder from the attic in the walkin linen press which was located right next to the bathroom. She tiptoed quietly into that room so as not to wake her mother and, without turning on the light, felt about above her for the string that would pull the attic ladder down. There it was. She gave it a gentle tug but it didn't move. It was quite stuck and the thought occurred to Bobby that it had not been used in some time. She ignored her logical side asking the question, how did whoever is in the attic get in? This was no time for logic.

She used all of her strength to pull at the string and just when she thought it would never budge, it came open, just a crack at first pouring years of dust and goodness knows what else onto her upturned face and into her eyes, nose and open mouth. While she brushed and wiped at herself Bobby became aware of two things. The light that now emanated from the crack in the ceiling was almost as bright if not brighter than ordinary daylight. The singing and music was very close now and she had been correct in her assumption that it was from the attic: