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CAST A LONG SHADOW 

CAST A LONG SHADOW

This story of reincarnation, tells of Mya, a woman in the 20th century, haunted by a fragment of a terrifying memory in a recurring dream.
Mya is unhappily married to Tom. They have one son, Blake.
On a holiday, recovering from pneumonia, she meets Ross, with whom she finds instant rapport and briefly, love.
During this holiday, Mya suffers a life threatening accident which results in her being hospitalised and in a coma.
In this period of coma, while she hovers close to death, Mya relives another lifetime in Austria during the 12th century. All the companions of her present life are there in their medieval persona.
There, in ancient time, is worked out the drama of love, hate and revenge, which finds an echo in her present life.
Only with the healing power of forgiveness, can Mya resolve a story of ancient bitterness and pain.

 

In Store Price: $AU24.95 
Online Price:   $AU23.95

ISBN: 1 920699 63 5
Format: Paperback
Number of pages: 422
Genre:  Fiction/Spiritual
 

 

 

Author: Alison Pollock
Imprint: Zeus
Publisher: Zeus Publications
Date Published: July 2003
Language: English

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR 

Alison Pollock’s many years of writing as a hobby have resulted in her first published book, ‘Cast a Long Shadow.’ 

Always having an avid interest in metaphysics, Alison for many years did psychic readings making predictions for the interested with extreme accuracy.

Her firm belief that we have all lived before in other times, places and personae has led to the story ‘Cast a Long Shadow.’ Alison believes that our encounters with different people from those past lives continue to impact on our present until those issues with which people are dealing are resolved. 

Alison is a widow in the autumn years of her life. During her married life as a bank manager’s wife she lived in many parts of Australia, worked for several different charities and raised her now adult son. In her retirement, she has lived in Buderim on Queensland’s Sunshine Coast for the past ten years and is a member of a local writers’ group, which she says, keeps her disciplined and producing regular literary pieces.

PROLOGUE

 (Australia- 1950) 

The long day had ended. At last! Now he would have her to himself. The wedding ceremony, the reception, the endless speeches, the gushing relatives and the confetti. All over! 

As the taxi approached the hotel he stole a glance at her still profile. She was self-contained for a new bride. He took hold of one gloved hand as it rested in her lap. As she turned to him he caught an odd expression in her eyes. Surely not fear? Ridiculous! They were husband and wife…she had nothing to fear, he loved her!

He reflected on her earlier evasion of his ardent pursuit. What had worn her down, he wondered. He dismissed the thought with a shrug. He was confident, sure of himself and his dark good looks which had helped him with his past conquests. This one was different. No girl before had ever aroused such a raging desire, or kept him at his distance so long.

He felt triumphant! He had won!

The taxi arrived at the small hotel. Here they would spend their first night. Tomorrow the honeymoon would move to a romantic tropical isle in the Whitsunday group. There he would possess her, would explore that beautiful body that now was his.

As they entered the hotel he felt irritated by its shabbiness. It was so hard to find anything decent in these early post war days. He noticed with distaste the threadbare carpet, shabby armchair and badly stained wallpaper in the foyer. God! I hope the bedroom is better.

It wasn’t! The walls were painted a revolting lolly pink with peeling plaster on the ceiling. On the bed was a chenille bedspread the colour of the walls.

She didn’t appear to notice as she entered the room, standing there peeling off her gloves, slipping off the jacket of her new blue suit. She was still wearing that confounded ring on her right hand. The sight of the engagement ring next to the wedding band on the other hand gave him a proprietorial sense of satisfaction. It was a fine solitaire diamond ring, the best he could afford.

He looked at his watch it was half past nine. He wondered if this God forsaken place would stretch to room service at this hour. He doubted it as he glanced around the room and noted the absence of a telephone.

“I’ll go see if I can rustle up some champagne,” he said to his wife of six hours.

“It’s…it’s alright! I don’t mind if you can’t, a cup of tea would do.”

“Tea! No way! This is our honeymoon, champagne it is.”

He drew her close and kissed her hungrily. She responded quietly. God! What was the matter with her?

She was standing there like a marble statue. He picked up the door key from the table.

“I’ll be back soon,” he said flashing her a smile as he left.

She heard the door close. She sank into the only chair in the room, nervously twisting her new wedding ring. As she had mounted the hotel stairs beside him, realisation of this final step had dawned on her, awakened her from the sense of unreality that had pervaded the whole interminable day.

‘What am I doing here?’ she thought. She had moved like a sleepwalker all through the ceremony, making the right responses, accepting kisses of congratulations, smiling until her face ached with the effort. It had all washed over her, leaving her detached and remote, the happy chatter of the wedding guests; the silken rustle of her wedding gown; her father’s loving embrace; his whispered, “Be happy darling,” the reading of those endless telegrams with their jocular greetings and sick jokes. Even the void left by the recent death of her mother had failed to touch her.

Suddenly into focus came that odd little incident at the reception. Her favourite aunt, the one with psychic powers had sat opposite the bridal couple. What had been in her aunt’s penetrating blue gaze that sparked an instant hostility in her new husband? Turning to speak to him she had been stunned by the antagonism in his expression. The words died on her lips. Her aunt had turned away!

Had she imagined this silent exchange? She shook her head as if to clear an enveloping fog.

‘Don’t be a fool!’ she chided herself, as she fought a rising tide of panic. ‘It’s just nerves. I’m tired. It’s been a long day.’

It had all seemed like a dream – an uneasy dream. Here and now was reality, here in this dreary room with its unshaded light bulb, starkly revealing every shabby detail.

The door opened. Her husband entered.

She started up guiltily as if her thoughts were visible.

They faced each other and their future.                           

 


 

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