Since completing her MA in Creative Writing, Silvia moved back to Spain and is now working in tourism. She recently joined a workshop group for YA and NA fiction with some former classmates and Nottingham Writers’ Studio members. She is currently working on a YA novel about a teenage hacker. You can follow Silvia on Instagram:@aivlis_ml.
Thanks again to Kristina, Kristian and Silvia for the photos.
The life of a writer is busy, busy, busy. Some of our contributors, when they have some spare time, blog about writing on their own websites. Here are a few of our contributor’s blogs:
Kristina runs her website, The Writer’s Cookbook.
“The Writer’s Cookbook is a blog about writing, social media and mental health run by Kristina Adams. It includes all aspects of writing including poetry, fiction, copywriting, scriptwriting and creative non-fiction.” – KA.
There are several guest writers for Kristina’s blog and she’s always on the look-out for more who will write about those topics. If you’re interested, you can email a pitch to thewriter@writerscookbook.com.
Related sites: Facebook, Twitter.
Silvia has recently set up her blog, The Writer’s Write-Up which you can find here.
“The Writer’s Write-Up is home to reviews of the many books that Silvia has read. Most of these books will be Young Adult Fantasy (an audience and genre that she also writes for), but will also contain reviews on books from other genres and occasionally by other writers.”– SML.
Related sites: Facebook, Twitter.
Michaela runs a book blog called InfinitexLibrary.
“InfinitexLibrary – this is a place for me to review books and ruminate on themes. Preferred genre is fantasy and YA but I’ll take recommendations for any book if it piques my interest. See my About Me for further info on my favourite books. I am also a big fan of manga and graphic novels so expect to see this reflected in my blog.” – MP
Related Sites: Twitter.
Here are some more photos from the end of launch night, featuring (almost) all the contributors. All photos are courtesy of Mark James.
Rory Waterman admiring the anthology
Rory Waterman
Rory talking about how awesome we all are
Rory inviting all contributors on stage
Stage fright?
Most of the group
From left to right: Kristina Adams, Kristian Elliott, Silvia M. Lopez, Liza Krejci, Marie Peach-Geraghty, Ben Field, David Corbett, Paul Adey, Drew Cross. Hidden behind Ben Field: Nick Jowett, Mark Done, Lauren C. Terry.
Check out our other launch night photos here.
Here are some more photos taken during the intervals. All photos are courtesy of Mark James.
The bar area
Comfy chairs! Emma Wisher is hiding away with her family in the top right corner
Georgina Lock, William Ivory and Mark Done
Drew Cross getting in the zone
Ben Field and Liza Krejci
Georgina Lock, William Ivory and Jon Plummer
More photos to come over the next few days and weeks! Check out our other launch night photos here.
Here are some more photos of our readers from launch night, our children’s and young adult writers. All photos are courtesy of Mark James.
Marie Peach-Geraghty reads her short story ‘Locking-Up’
Marie Peach-Geraghty
Kristian Elliott reads an excerpt from his YA black comedy, ‘The Enigma of Thornwood’
Kristian Elliott
Silvia M. Lopez reads an excerpt from her YA story ‘Surviving the Outernet’
Silvia M. Lopez
More photos to come over the next few days and weeks! Check out our other launch night photos here.
Today is a special day for many of our Restless Minds contributors. Today, some of them from the MA Creative Writing course, graduate from Nottingham Trent University!
Here are the list of Restless Minds contributors graduating today (although not all of them can attend the ceremony):
Nora Al-Rasheed
Kristina Adams
Oliver Clark
Kristian Elliott
Ben Field
Shila C. George
Nick Jowett
Liza Krejci
L.D. Lapinski
Silvia M. Lopez
Peter Newman
Clare Stevens
Emma Lauren Wisher
On behalf of the whole Restless Minds Team we wish them all the best, every single one of them have worked hard for their degree and put so much time and effort into the anthology.
Congratulations to you all!
Here’s a few more behind the scenes photos from the book launch on October 9th, courtesy of Mark James. You can follow him on Twitter.
Silvia M. Lopez, Ben Field, and Kristian Elliott sort the reserved copies. Well, Ben and Kristian anyway…
Ben Field, Kristian Elliott, Marie Peach-Geraghty, and Clare Stevens hard at work
Smile!
Kristina Adams running through her lines with her partner
Kristina Adams and Carl Jackson
Liza setting up the images and screen captions for later…or on Facebook…Twitter…Lord of the Rings?
Marie Peach-Geraghty, Ben Field, Silvia M. Lopez
Marie Peach-Geraghty and her husband, Tom
Drew Cross and L. D. Lapinski; Oliver Clark reading in the corner
Silvia M. Lopez: “Drinks are on me!” or “Help me escape, they just told me I’m reading!”
More photos to come over the next few days and weeks! Check out our other launch night photos here.
We hope you all enjoyed Halloween last Friday!
As you know, we chose to celebrate Halloween all last week by posting various creative pieces relating to the theme of Halloween. Here are the links to the various stories, poems, monologues and excerpts, we’ve shared on our website for all of you:
Restless Minds Excerpts:
Inspire, Expire, by Emma Lauren Wisher
The Last Taboo, by Clare Stevens
Locking Up, by Marie Peach-Geraghty
London Underground, by L. D. Lapinski
Short Stories:
A Cautionary Tale, by Hayley Tivey
Lady of the Trent, by Clare Stevens
Meowl (excerpt), by Kristian Elliott
Pretty Rosalind, by Silvia M. Lopez
Poems:
Hades, by Kristian Elliott
Knock-a-door run, by Paul Adey
Dramatic Monologues:
Lucifer, by Silvia M. Lopez
Challenges & Prompts:
Halloween Writing Challenge
Halloween Writing Prompt
I watched her slip away from the party, muffin in one hand and rag doll in the other. She headed for the house and I started to follow. Somebody grabbed my arm and I turned.
‘So how are you liking the new house?’ A man in tweed stood behind me.
‘Well… its not technically new is it?
He forced a polite smile, not happy with my answer. He puffed on his pipe and I tried to pull away.
‘But you’ve just moved in, so it is new for you.’
I sighed. ‘Sure, whatever.’
I couldn’t see Rosie and her rag doll anymore, she must have made it into the house. The man was still talking to me, but I wasn’t paying attention. He seemed to be going on about another family that had lived here ages ago, and how we were the first people to move in since them. I nodded absentmindedly, hoping he would shut up.
‘… seem to be enjoying it here.’
I looked at him.‘What?’
I could tell he was getting annoyed at me.
He fiddled with his pipe.‘I said, your parents seem to be enjoying it here.’
‘Sure, they love it. Apparently its good for their writing. I have to go, excuse me.’
I moved away from him. Rosie was in the house now; I could see her at the window. I made my way round to the front door. I hesitated in the doorway. Rosie was standing at the foot of the stairs.
‘What were you doing at the window?’
‘What window?’ She didn’t even look at me, she was staring at the door.
‘The one in that room.’ I pointed at the door.
She turned to me now, confusion on her face. ‘But that door is locked.’
‘Don’t mess with me, Rosie. I saw you.’
‘It’s true!’ she cried, and hugged her doll closer. ‘You can check if you want.’
I thought about dropping the subject and going back outside, but Rosie looked so sincere that I took a step forward. I put my hand on the doorknob. Rosie started humming.
I tried the door. It was locked. I turned to Rosie who looked at me expectantly.
‘Did you lock it again?’ I asked.
‘No! I told you, it’s always locked.’
‘Rosie…’
‘There’s no key. I swear! It’s always locked. Ask Grayson, he’ll tell you. Why do you never believe me?’ She stomped her foot and ran off.
The humming continued. I edged closer to the door, and put my ear to it. The humming was coming from inside. I tried the door again. Nothing.
Outside, I searched for my mother. She was hard to find with so many people here for the party. I’d never realised my parents had so many friends. They’d gone all out, decorating the garden with fairy lights and coloured lanterns. My dad has made his famous punch, and the crystal bowl containing it sparkled in the light.
I spotted my mother off to a side.
‘Mum!’
‘Oh, here you are, sweetheart.’ She took my arm, turning me to face her friend. ‘Have you met Mina?’
Mina smiled, her round cheeks dimpling.
‘Hi Mina,’ I said and turned to my mother. ‘Mum, have you seen Rosie? She’s being a brat again, playing tricks and stuff.’
‘Excuse us Mina.’ Mum pulled me to a side. ‘Darling, you have to be patient with your sister, she’s only six and she’s still adjusting.’
‘I know! But she’s being stupid! She was in the room, the one by the stairs but when I got there she’d locked it and said –‘
‘The room by the stairs? You mean the old living room?’
‘Yes, that one. Well, she –‘
‘But sweetheart, that room is locked. When we were given all the house keys, Grayson told us the old owners had locked that room and taken the key with them.’
‘Maybe Rosie found a way in.’
‘Sweetheart, it’s locked. And it will stay that way. There are enough rooms in the house for her to play in.’
‘But I saw Rosie at the window!’ I argued. ‘I swear I saw her.’
‘It must have been your mind playing tricks.’ She smoothed down my hair, in a futile attempt to tame my curls. ‘Now go mingle with the guests, darling. We don’t want them thinking we have an antisocial daughter. Go along now.’
I let myself be pushed gently away, but rather than face the party, I decided to find Grayson. Chances were he was in the rose garden.
He was leaning over one of the rose bushes. He held some clippers in one hand and a perfect rose bloom in the other.
I frowned. ‘I thought black roses didn’t grow naturally.’
Grayson turned around and handed me the rose.
‘They don’t,’ he said, a small smile playing across his face. The rose petals were soft and velvety. The rose was a rich, deep red.
I looked up confused. ‘I thought… I mean… It looked black.’ It seemed silly now. I shook my head. ‘Forget it. Have you seen Rosie?
‘Not since the beginning of the party. She was cutting some of those,’ he gestured at a cluster of small white roses. ‘Said she’d made a friend, and that they were her favourites. I haven’t seen her since.’
I played with the rose, rubbing the petals against my cheek.
‘She was in the house before. Playing inside, in the room by the stairs,’ I said.
He frowned. ‘That’s not possible. That room is –‘
‘Locked.’ I sighed. ‘I know, I keep being told. But I saw her. Is there no extra key?’
‘No. Wouldn’t be of no use anyway. Previous owners blocked up the keyhole, they did. Whole door would have to come off to get in.’
I shivered, letting his words sink in. ‘Well, if you see Rosie, tell her I’m looking for her.’
I returned the rose and stalked off.
I didn’t want to re-join the party, and I didn’t want to go inside the house either. The place didn’t feel like home. The air felt cold and oppressive inside there. I headed towards the kitchens, hoping Rosie would be outside stealing some food from the caterers.
She wasn’t there. I sighed. Instead of going inside, I turned around and meandered through the gardens, marvelling at their beauty. Such a contrast with the house, I thought. Mom and Dad might love it (‘It’s just so authentic darling, don’t you think?’) but I found it seriously creepy. And ugly.
It wasn’t so much a house, as a patchwork of many houses. Looking at it, you couldn’t even tell what had been the original building. It was as if every family who had lived there had tacked on its own little bit creating an eclectic, mismatched pile. Which is probably why it suited my parents just fine.
According to Grayson, we were the first family to live here for 50 years. He’d told Rosie he had been a teenager when the last family left for the city, never to come back. His father had been the gardener back then, and Grayson had taken over from him. The rose gardens, he’d told us, were Mrs Janie’s pride and joy. She would tend to them personally with her daughter and that’s why he took such special care of the roses.
He’d pointed out one of the plants, and cut a small, delicate, peach coloured bloom for Rosie.
‘This one here’s the most special of the lot. My father named it Pretty Rosalind, after Mrs Janie’s daughter. And seeing you’re pretty as a picture yourself, this rose is for you.’ He’d presented Rosie with the bloom, while she blushed and giggled with pleasure.
‘Where is she now?’ Rosie had asked.
Grayson’s smile had frozen. ‘Gone.’
A movement by the Pretty Rosalinds caught my eye. I spun around hoping to catch my sister.
‘Rosie?’ I called. I looked around me, but couldn’t see Rosie.
I heard humming, and followed the sound. It moved further away from the house. I looked behind me. From where I stood, the faint sounds of the party reached me. Music and the buzz of conversation.
The humming got louder. I saw the back of Rosie’s skirts turning into one of the walled gardens. I ran after, and peered in.
‘Gotcha!’ I shouted, stepping inside.
The garden was empty. I walked in, looking around in case she was hiding. The humming started again, this time from somewhere behind me. I looked around for another way out. The garden was walled in, and the only exit was the stone archway I’d been standing under.
‘This isn’t funny anymore,’ I said to the empty garden. ‘I’m gonna find you Rosie.’
I turned back towards the house and stopped dead in my tracks.
The floor was littered with peach coloured petals. Someone had ripped every Pretty Rosalind blossom from the bush and trampled them. My breath caught. I clutched my stomach, a sick feeling filling me.
An hour later, Rosie still hadn’t reappeared. The sky was darkening and the moon was visible in the cloudless sky. I’d shown Grayson the ruined flowers and helped him clean them up. The tears he tried to hide while he gathered up the trampled roses made me angrier with my sister. But Grayson wouldn’t believe it had been Rosie.
‘I heard her humming. And then I found them like this. It had to be her.’
‘I don’t think Miss Rosie would do this, she loved these roses. She helped me tend the garden, and always took some blooms for her friend.’
‘She doesn’t have any friends!’ I snapped.
‘She’s young, and has a vivid imagination. Perhaps they’re for that rag doll of hers. She made a daisy chain for it the other day.’
‘I hate that stupid rag doll. Where did she even get it?’
Grayson had turned to me. ‘Weren’t it hers? From your old house?’
‘No. It’s an ugly old thing. I think she found it here.’ I waved at the house.
Grayson had gone quiet, and shooed me away telling me he’d finish cleaning up.
Talking to him hadn’t helped, and nobody at the party had seen Rosie. Some said they’d seen a young girl running into the gardens, but couldn’t tell if it was her. A few others had seen her looking out of the house, standing at the window.
I’d asked my Dad to come into the house with me to help me look for her.
‘Why can’t you go on your own, darling,’ he’d said. ‘You’re old enough to not need me holding your hand.’
I couldn’t even remember a time he’d held my hand. So I hadn’t gone inside. Instead, I’d mingled with the guests for a while, earning me a grateful smile from my mother, and kept an eye out for Rosie.
But I hadn’t seen her at all. I was starting to get worried. I walked up to my mother again.
‘Rosie’s been gone for ages. Why isn’t anybody worried?’ I demanded.
‘Darling, don’t interrupt. It’s rude.’
‘That’s alright,’ the man she was talking to excused himself and left us alone.
‘Nobody’s seen her for hours, mum.’
‘Calm down, sweetheart. She’s fine. Probably off with a friend or just playing on her own.’
‘Mum, please,’ I begged. ‘Just help me look for a bit. She’s been acting weird and I’m worried.’
‘Ah, you just don’t want to go inside on your own,’ she teased. I scowled. She might be right, but that wasn’t the point.
‘Indulge me, Mother.’
She laughed at my tone. ‘Alright then, we’ll search.’
We checked the gardens, our rooms, asked the party guests, the catering staff but nobody had seen Rosie for hours. Grayson joined us. We checked the kitchens and the various unused rooms in the house.
‘I told you, mum. She’s gone.’
‘Let’s not panic, darling. She’s probably just wandered off.’ The worry in her tone mirrored my own feelings, only it was a few hours too late.
‘We can check the gardens again, Miss,’ said Grayson. He led the way downstairs. I brought up the rear, lost in my own thoughts and heard the humming once more.
‘What if she’s in the living room?’ I mused aloud.
Mum turned to me. ‘We already checked –‘
‘I meant the old one.’
“It’s –‘
‘Locked! I know. Ughhh!’
I pushed past my mother heading straight to the locked door and kicked it.
‘Darling!’ she gasped.
‘She’s in here! I know it! She’s been playing in here for days, and she was in here this afternoon. I saw her! Why won’t you listen?’
I started crying. My mum’s eye started twitching. She measured her tone carefully.
‘How many times must we tell you, this door is locked. There is no way Rosie could be inside. See.’ She put her hand on the handle, and opened the door.
We all froze. The door swung inwards, into a darkened room. Stale air reached us, with a faint aroma or roses. I could make out the shapes of furniture under white sheets.
‘Look,’ Mum’s voice wavered. She pointed at the floor, just inside the room.
Inside the doorway were some of the roses Rosie had been collecting for her friend, along with a wilting daisy chain and some stale cookies.
‘Rosie?’ My voice shook as I called out.
I heard the humming coming from the fireplace. This time everyone else heard it too.
‘No, please not Rosie…’ Grayson muttered.
His face had gone pale.
I clung to my mother. ‘What’s wrong? Is she… is she inside?’
‘It has a secret room…’ Grayson’s voice was barely audible.
‘Grayson?’ Mother squeezed my hand.
Grayson made his way forward. He walked up to the empty fireplace. His hand brushed the wall and we heard a click. A small opening to the side was revealed.
I let out a breath I didn’t realise I was holding.
Grayson pulled at the opening, revealing the secret room.
Rosie’s body lay in the middle of the room. A ring of peach coloured blossoms surrounded her, the edges dyed red by the blood trickling from Rosie’s head.
Mother screamed, pushing away from me and backing into the living room.
I took a step forward, kneeling beside my dead sister. I picked up the rag doll lying beside her.
The humming started again. This time, it sounded like two girls.
Behind me, Grayson sobbed.
‘Just like Miss Rosalind.’
This short story by Silvia is not in the Restless Minds anthology. Check out Silvia’s bio here.
Restless Minds 