This novel is limited to 100 free copies due to its part in Inkitt’s Novel Contest.
People forget their dreams. They don’t care about them. Besides, they are slithery things with threads to other worlds and times. And they smell. You may not think so, but they do. Dreams can stink. Even in Ernestown, that poky little suburb where nobody remembers their dreams and everybody remembers the rising price of coal, peas and grave plots.
Finella dreamed a horrible dream that smelled of oil and guns, every night for a week coming up to Halloween. Granma knew. And Daphne, Finella’s mother knew. She was a strange girl, just like her own Grandmother. Finella knew her mother knew about her secret dream but she kept her lips pursed.
Finella remembered the day she was born. The midwives wiped her and handed her to her mother, who looked away when she saw the purple birth mark on Finella’s left shoulder. Finella was one of them. Her mother swaddled her up in a cot, and stuffed a dodie in her mouth.
“There, there.” she’d say, “Now just stay quiet.”
She stuffed her back in her cot, and went back to playing bridge with her friends. Her mother could not bear to hold her. When Finella’s wailing became unbearable, Granma came.
“Who’s that?” said Margery, hearing the latch on the back door.
“It’s just Judith. I’m not getting up, she can let herself in.” said Finella’s mother, placing her cards on the glass table.
Granma wheezed down the corridor, smoking a cigarette. She went straight to the nursery and looked into the eyes of her first granddaughter. She sang a little nursery rhyme about an old witch making butter in the rain.
Swanzee Swechee Deschay pada Baga Yaga masswo klethchy
When she sang, Finella saw the words, and she saw the old witch making butter in the rain. She saw the duck mobile over her cot spin around in the breeze through the open window, their tails gently tapping off each other. She gurgled happily and wished this lovely buttery old lady would steal her away. Her mother burst through the door like an angry gust of wind and grabbed Finella out of Granma’s arms, flinging her back into the cot.
“Out!” hollered her mother. “Never sing that song in my house again!”
When the front door slammed, Finella knew the buttery old lady was gone and she wailed all afternoon, while her mother played bridge and drank cocktails that Indian summer.
“Let her cry out.” she said to Margery.
“Oh that’s it. You let them cry. Then they know who’s boss.” said Finella’s mother.
“Babies are awful creatures.” said Margery. “So demanding!”
Finella was six years old when she found Granma again, in the cottage with the blue door behind the bakery. She came up to her window, and sang the little nursery rhyme through the open crack.
“Finishka!” she cried. She could call Finella anything she liked. She came out and held her in her arms and swung her around the garden by her dahlias. She filled Finella with chocolate biscuits and dumpling soup, and wrapped her up in a patchwork quilt.
At home, she was warned. Don’t. Don’t go and see that woman. Ever.
“She’s fishy.” said my father
“Why? What’s fishy about her?” I said.
He didn’t answer. Nobody ever answered that question.
Finella’s dreams smelled. They didn’t all smell bad. They just emitted smell. She had read about narcolepsy which causes you to fall asleep anywhere, any time- on the street, in the post office, over your dinner plate. She wondered if that what was wrong with her. Smells lured her: musty, spicy smells and the smell of moss. The smell of fresh sheets, basmati rice and lavender. She’d get dizzy and lie down. Anywhere. Once, they found her in the janitor’s cupboard at school, and called her mother, who said she was too like Granma. When they found her in the shed at Matty’s scrapyard, lying in the barn, asleep, they said there was no hope for her.
Finella kept her room locked. But her half brother Edmund had a very good sense of smell. It wasn’t because he was seven years older, it was because he had a funny knack that nobody else had: he would twitch his nose and sniff in all the information he needed. He’d say:
“You stink of Granma’s place!” he sniffed around her. “Sardines… spicy biscuits… and ham! Why do you hang out with the old hag, freak face?”
That Halloween, he was building the bonfire from hell: he’d already stacked wood from Matty’s scrap yard on the Maddle River, and stolen a can of petrol with his friends. It would be a filthy, strictly-forbidden, tyre-burning bonfire at Pocock Grange. Finella, dizzy with her dreams, could not collect firewood, despite Edmund’s orders. That horrible dream that would not leave her alone, the one that smelled of saltpetre, oil and dust and made tears scald her eyes. The one that came, every time she closed her eyes:
The army is invading. Tanks growl through the cobbled streets, towards a large Square. Bomber planes drone though the grey sky. Smoke plumes spiral out of buildings. The army marches in, their boots hit the cobblestones with steel toes: tac-tac-tac-tac-tac! In front of them, an old man stands with a white beard and a black hat, a black cape flapping in the winds, with his arms outstretched. His name is Adam Weiss, and he wears a ring with a shining stone set in silver. A ray of sun catches it as two tall soldiers take him, and throw him head first into a tank, his boots dangling in the air before they close the flap and drive away down a narrow street. The army march away. The sun hits the empty place where he stood with his arms open: his ring lies there. A little girl runs up to it, picks it up and hands it to me, where I am watching from an archway in the shade.
Finella knew that name. She locked her bedroom door and dove under her bed, pulling out Granma’s old trunk. The name Judith Weiss was written in white beneath the brass clasps and that pinned the handle. That was Granma. Finella turned the trunk onto its upside. The name Adam Weiss was scratched across the black band. It was him, the funny man in the dream with the ring who was stuffed into a tank and taken away forever.
She scribbled the dream in to her notebook, and tore out the door with a half eaten sandwich in her fist. Edmund tore after her as she ran past the gates.
“Going to Granma’s?!”
“I’ll tell Matty about the petrol you stole for the bonfire! Get back!” she pushed him, but knew she couldn’t make him fall. All she had was her legs. She ran. She heard him come after her as she fled to the field behind Matty’s yard and down by the river where he’d lose her scent. From there, she followed the old wall to Granma’s. When she got to the blue door, Granma was behind her. She had her hands on her hips, with the car door open.
“Are you ready?” Granma said.
Finella pulled out her notebook, and read the dream.
“An army is invading an old city. Tanks growl through the old, cobbled streets…”
Edmund was skating furiously up the avenue. Finella looked at Granma. Trouble.
“Get in the car. Quick! ” said Granma. They jumped into Granma’s rusty red car and pulled out of the drive just as Edmund, red faced, skidded into the drive on his skateboard, lunging at the passenger door. Granma swerved around the corner, and they took off in cloud of dust.
spooky jedi: Love your story!I really hope more people read this story!Its amazing!! The plot is very unique and different, which is very good to have in a world full of stories. You have very complex and intellectual plot line, with your many loveable character and that hint of 'will they, won't they' is ju...
Bri Hoffer: I couldn't put it down!! The characters are all incredibly likable, and it's so descriptive you can see, smell, and feel thier surroundings. Great story, and very well written. I cannot wait for follow up stories. there were a few grammatical errors, but nothing that I could move right over.
colt: i love your books! all of them! i am so happy for you! when i first read your book i thought "this seems really interesting" and i just got hooked had to have more, i wondered if you had a sequel to the first one, and you did, i was so excited that i had to start reading it. your series left me t...
jessiehs: This book had me hooked from the very beginning. To be honest, I wasn't sure I would like it based on the description, but I was very wrong. The way he overcame all of his childhood challenges and managed to help others was great. There were so many times the story had me on the edge of my seat. ...
BlakDreams: Wait is this over already?? I really love this story but I'm not sure, is this story already over?? Hm... if it's over I'm a kill myself cuz I loved it!! AGGHH!This story has a perfect storyline and everything I love itttt! Oh my god!
Lorena Boothe: A few paragraphs in and I was immersed into a new world.I wasn't expecting that at all.I thought it might take a few more chapters for sure. Did I keep reading?You bet I did.I lost track of time until I had devoured this tale.Fun characters, awesome plot and lovely language. All I ever want in a ...
latashashetters: This book is truly enticing! I feel head over heels for it after the first few pages. I'm rather upset that you let the black wolf die but I truly hope that you let him return so he can truly be happy I would also love to know what was in the package! I can't wait for the next novel! I'm looking ...
anjalichaudhary777: I am a kind of a person who don't prefer t read books... No matter what I just can't read.... The application I have got its amazing through which I got to read this amazing book.... It keeps you interested and go on.... I felt it amazing. This book helped me to start reading. Talk about th story...
Mourn8220House: When first reading "Avarice," I thought it would be another fairytale but I was taken back the author's approach and choice of ending. There is little to be said for the story and overall plot besides the sudden twists and speculation, other than that I do not want to ruin a fantastic tale, you m...
sarahsweet898123: I loved the story ... its was fascinating. ... cant put it down.... the way it was written....was so beautiful. .. the details. .. especially the characters. ..I loved them so much ... Garrick and mairi... every time there was some kind of attraction. ... just cant help it .... no words to express
cristalyn enriquez: I love the plot of the story and the way how the author describe each character,especialy Elias he's so hot!. I've red this story 4 times and I never get tired of it😊. but I think you must practice your grammar and avoid using the same word over and over. like the word "wonder",because it's an...
ernbelle: When I first started this story I was a little unsettled by all of the information that appears in the prologue, and wasn't sure if I would continue. However, I am very glad I did. The plot was very well thought out and really interesting. There were not any page breaks or markers to acknowledge ...
Hudson: Your story was fantastic Erin! The Rising Sun was one of the first stories I read on Inkitt, and I have to say I don't regret the three to four days I spent pouring through the story.Probably the biggest strength I see in your writing is your characterisation of Eliana, Oriens, and the rest of th...