Shaun wrote his first story, entitled "The Stagecoach Robbery", at the age of six, and has been making stories ever since.
After working in education with children of all ages for many years, Shaun turned his passion into his
profession, and is now a freelance writer and photographer.
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About the Book
Ewan Pendle was weird. Really weird. At least, that's what everyone told him. Then again, being able to see monsters that no one else could wasn't exactly normal ...
Thinking he has been moved off to live with his eleventh foster family, Ewan is instead told he is a Lenitnes, one of an ancient race of peoples who can alone see the real 'Creatures' which inhabit the earth. He is taken in by Enola, the mysterious sword carrying Grand Master of Firedrake Lyceum, a labyrinth of halls and rooms in the middle of London where other children, just like Ewan, go to learn the ways of the Creatures.
Keep reading for an excerpt:
Sleep was a restless affair for Ewan. The thought that he had to get up extra early and, therefore, had to fall asleep as quickly as possible in order to get a decent amount of shuteye, only kept him awake for longer. When Max’s snoring started, he didn’t think he would get any rest at all.
In the early hours of the morning, when sleep finally did come, it was anything but peaceful. Ewan was visited by dreams of wide open green fields with a singular white blurry figure set on the pristine horizon. Every time Ewan tried to get closer to the figure and see who, or indeed what, it was, it would only get blurrier until it finally disappeared altogether and turned into a wisp of smoke that then became a massive and monstrous pale cloud, dominating the sky above him.
‘Ewan … Ewan.’ Blown over by a mighty gust of wind, Ewan tumbled to the ground. A voice was demanding he
get up and
follow the cloud as it shot across the sky like a floating city.
‘Ewan – Pendle!’ Ewan woke suddenly to see a wide and shimmering head glaring down at him through the darkness. It was Moham. ‘On your feet,’ he said in the quietest voice Ewan had ever heard him utter. Although his voice was dim, it carried with it no less foreboding of what the result would be if its request was not immediately carried out.
‘Pain Yard – five minutes,’ said
Moham, then turning and walking away.
Ewan dressed as quickly as he could and then tiptoed past all of the other snoozing cadets and out of the dormitory. A few
smouldering embers in the gigantic fireplace puffed sympathetically as he crossed the darkened common room. The empty corridors of Firedrake were still asleep too, and Ewan did his best not to wake them as he tried to achieve a balance between speed and silence. He thought with a little shudder that right now Betony could have probably sneaked up on him and snapped his neck before he had even known that he was no longer alone.
As he stepped outside a few minutes later, the chill early morning air bit at Ewan’s face and neck like a million tiny flies, all of them trying to take the largest chunk or leave the most painful mark as they nibbled at his skin. Moham was standing in the
centre of Pain Yard, curiously staring up at the peach
coloured sky. Ewan approached him slowly, but the tall Master did not unclench the grip his singular visible dark eye had on the brightening sky until Ewan was close enough to touch him.
‘Laps,’ said
Moham in a low voice. Ewan complied immediately.
As Ewan set out on his first lap of the long and wide rectangular Pain Yard, he bent his eyes towards the high walls of the Lyceum, there being nothing else but sand and Moham in the Yard itself to look at. For the first half a dozen floors or so, all four walls that frowned down onto the Yard were the same height. But after
this the roofs were mismatched and the tiles and gutters chased each other up and down and in all directions.
Firedrake Lyceum was slowly waking, the tips of its highest flat glass eyes blinking and glinting in the sun.
Ewan knew that the widows in the boy’s Grade One dormitory looked down onto the Yard, but he had no idea that the
girl’s did too. Casting a wistful look up in the direction of his bed and the beds of the other sleeping Grade One
cadets, Ewan spotted someone waving to him from a long and thin window set into the honey
coloured stone of the Lyceum, like a shiny welt on rough skin.
Ewan focused his sharp hazel eyes.
Mathilde was sitting on what must have been the wide inside sill of one of the windows of the girl’s dormitory. Still in her
pyjamas and cross legged, she offered a vehement wave and a wide smile that Ewan couldn’t quite make out but was still sure was there. Suddenly the wind didn’t seem so fierce, the barked instructions from Moham for him to lift his knees didn’t thump against his eardrums so thickly, and Ewan picked up his pace.
For a whole hour Moham made Ewan run, and for that whole hour Mathilde sat and watched, offering another short wave every time he looked up. It was strange that the thought which came to Ewan so clearly now had only just
arrived, because he had been through a lot already with Mathilde and Enid. But as he lifted his head back up for his regular once-every-five-minute look towards the high windows of the dormitories, something warm trickled down Ewan’s throat, settling itself in his stomach and welling up like a bowl being slowly filled with warm soup.
This, Ewan thought, must be what it feels like to have friends.
Sameer Ketkar received a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree in screenwriting from the University of Southern California. He has written one feature film, “Backwaters,” and has published six novels.
“Simple Tricks and Nonsense” is a scathing religious satire set in a scifi space opera universe. It’s told from the point of view of God or Dog, and tells the story of his son, the messiah Adolf H. Canon. Adolf’s story encompasses the religious takeover of the domed planet Naladaya, followed by a crusade to conquer the entire galaxy.
Sometimes you just have to take flight.
Flax was an important plant in the medieval world. It had an incredible number of uses, some of which have already been touched on in previous posts. One of its primary uses was the production of linen cloth. Cotton didn’t grow well in northern areas of Europe, but flax did, and linen was needed to make undergarments and cooler summer clothing when wool was too hot to wear.
Iris Sweetwater grew up on a steady dose of Poe and Dickinson, first getting published in poetry anthologies at the age of 13. As an adult, she has worn many hats; ghostwriter, marketer, teacher, and mother. After spending six years writing for others, she found her way to self-publishing in 2017 and plans on making this a career. When she is not writing, she loves to dance, sign, and spend time with her husband and spunky daughter.
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