My childhood years were spent in a beautiful stately home in the south of England. An imposing stone masterpiece set within the rural moor speckled countryside. The house had several hundred rooms and a gloriously stocked, high-ceiling library. My personal room was situated towards the front of the house. I remember the large sweeping bay … Continue reading Beginning of Chapter two from my unnamed novella
literature
The Bird
A bird is in her cage with shining new silver bars, At first she sang as she had not realised that she had been trapped, A prisoner of her vows. Now she has no voice, no house, no choice. Her strong wings have been clipped- And her wild ways tamed. Her once bright eyes now … Continue reading The Bird
Chapter One
I had always thought the curtains in this room were opulent and graceful; they perfectly matched the rich colours of the dark wine walls-for they had been designed to- they were made from the finest crushed velvet, and hung in rippling waves of extravagance from hand-made golden rails. Now with great effort I turn my … Continue reading Chapter One
Alicia Jones Poetry 