Hello,

The official launch date for The Hellion is fast approaching, and I would love to invite you to my virtual launch party. It'll take place on 15th April at 7pm BST, and here are the links:

Link: https://us04web.zoom.us/j/75726903894?pwd=SFowYS9Sb21UNDVpZko2OFAvdW1Udz09

Meeting ID: 757 2690 3894 
Passcode: 233433

Pop it in your diaries, I can't wait to see you there.

I would also like to say an enormous thank you to everyone who has given me feedback about The Hellion or left a review. These reviews are so very important for authors, and I am very grateful to everyone who has taken the time out to do so. If you want to leave a review, you can do so on Goodreads here:

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/56337482-the-hellion

It's been fantastic to see your photos of the book on Instagram too. Scrolling through #thehellion is now a delightful mix of photos of The Hellion book, and videos of people shredding their guitars to The Hellion by Judas Priest.  
 

Have a great week, and save that link to the launch party.

Love,

Harriet

An invitation

Hello everyone,

As always, I would like to start my message by saying a huge thank you to every single one of you for supporting The Hellion. You are amazing!

You will have received an email from Unbound explaining that The Hellion will now be published in March 2021, and the reasons for this. Of course, it was very disappointing news but with the current situation- Covid-19 and all that has brought about - also completely understandable. The way I see it now, it is far better this way because it (hopefully!) means that the launch party will be face to face with as many of you as possible, rather than over Zoom. 

In the meantime, I wanted to keep writing and give you something to hopefully whet your appetite for The Hellion. For this reason, I've updated (well, I'm in the progress of updating...) my blog to include a section where I'll publish a variety of short stories. There are two up already - 40 Days and The Key. If you fancy some weird and wonderful reads, do head over (it's free to access and read). I'm aiming to add one each week and if you fancy it, you can follow the blog using your email address to get an email notification when a new one is published. Here's the link:


 <a href="https://thesenovelthoughts.com/category/short-stories/">https://thesenovelthoughts.com/category/short-stories/</a>


I hope that you, your friends and your family are all keeping well, and hopefully we will see each other before long.

Love,

Harriet

Publication Date and Special News

Hello!

I have an exciting update for you today. Firstly, The Hellion reached 90% funding yesterday so it won’t be long until we can crack open the champagne! Thank you all for your support.

Secondly, Unbound have a discount code running for this week only. If you use the code OVER75 at the checkout, you’ll get 10% off your order - this works for both new pledges and upgrades for The Hellion so if you were thinking of upgrading to the launch party or book artwork, now is the perfect time!

Hope you all have a wonderful week. I hope my next update will be at 100%!

Harriet x

90% funding and a special discount code

Hello everyone,

There are now over 300 supporters of The Hellion! It is amazing to think that so many of you have preordered my book. Thanks to you, The Hellion is almost funded (just over 15%, a few hundred pounds...the finish line is in sight!) and it is becoming a reality. 

It is difficult to express the extent of my gratitude; it is generous and exceptionally kind of all of you to back my debut novel. I hope you are looking forward to read it!  

I get many messages asking how you can help The Hellion reach its goal, and I’m thankful that such an amazing bunch have chosen to support! There are a few things that you can do, if you’d like to:

-Carry on sharing with friends and family (I’ve attached a little flyer that you can use if you wish).

-Upgrade your pledge - there are a few options available if you log on to your account.

-Let everyone know what a great gift The Hellion would make - a first edition book delivered to the recipient with their name printed as a supporter!

 Thank you as always, and I’m looking forward to updating you again very soon.

Harriet xxx


 <img alt class="doksoft_image_img" src="https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0728/3615/3620/files/BCD668D4-3A0F-4984-B5E0-B59401928FFB.jpg?v=1690913817" width="349" height="500">

300 backers ❤️

Exciting news - there are now two brand new pledge levels available for my book, and it is possible to upgrade from your current pledge to one of these brand new ones! The first comes with entry to a delightful launch party in Chester (date to be confirmed). It would be wonderful to see as many of you there as possible so I can thank you face to face and we can celebrate together. The second includes a signed, limited edition A3 print of the cover artwork!

If you want to upgrade to one of these new pledge levels, it’s really easy.

1. Log in to your Unbound account.

2. Click the ‘manage project’ button next to your pledge for The Hellion.

3. Scroll down past your address details and click the ‘upgrade or donate’ button.

4. All of the upgrade options will be there for you.

 Thank you as always for your continued support. None of this would be possible without you ❤️

NEW pledge levels available for The Hellion- and you can upgrade!

A quick update- The Hellion is now 70% funded (by over 250 of you kind and generous people!) and I’m now just 30% away from publication. This is down to your support and I am so very grateful for it. The hard work isn’t over yet though. You can still help The Hellion become a reality by sharing my fundraising link with anyone you know - face to face, through Facebook, Twitter or instagram, pigeon post...whatever medium suits you best! Thank YOU for believing in me and The Hellion - it would be fantastic if we could raise this last 30% ASAP!

70% funded. Thank you!

Hello everyone,

Well, we’re over the hump and surely it’s all downhill from here? Thanks to your support, The Hellion is now 50% funded and well on track to being published. A huge £2,779 has been raised by 184 of you, and that is just incredible! Some more stats for you - I have spent 210 hours on social media spreading the word, and walked 73 miles leafleting for my novel.

But, there’s still a whole 50% to go and so we’re not on the home straight yet. If you’re willing, it would be wonderful if you could share the flyer below with anyone who might be interested- friends, family, neighbours, colleagues. You can also share it on social media if you have it!


 <img alt class="doksoft_image_img" height="500" src="https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0728/3615/3620/files/2B027168-4D6A-470D-9037-7AD87F9DC915.jpg?v=1690913822" width="355">


And to say thank you again, I also wanted to share a tiny little snippet of what you’ll be reading (hopefully) when The Hellion is published!


 Of course, she was just a child, but she didn’t talk to them as another person might talk. Instead, she would occasionally drop a phrase or a monologue into a room and leave everyone feeling deeply uncomfortable. For example, there had been the time when Old Demdike had been treating them to a story about her life in Whalley when she was a child, and Jennet began laughing hysterically when Old Demdike was describing her mother. When Elizabeth had asked why she was laughing, Jennet had just replied, ‘split like a plum!’ 



 They weren’t words Old Demdike had spoken, and Elizabeth had looked confused, but Old Demdike’s face had turned grey and she began to tremble. She refused to tell stories about her childhood after that.



 There were other things too. The way she hummed; a low humming which you didn’t notice at first, until it built and you thought you were going mad. Then she would stop suddenly, and you would realise what she had been doing. A childish game, perhaps, but it always seemed like there was more to it than that.


Thank you, thank you, thank you,

 

Harriet xx

Halfway there! 50% funded

Today we have reached the huge number of 150 backers! It is wonderful to think that this many people are supporting my project. I’m incredibly proud of my book, and it makes me so happy that all of you believe in it too!

This weekend, I visited Pendle (which is the setting of my book) again. We managed to climb Pendle Hill (fortunately the weather was fine this morning) and look once again upon some of the areas where key events happen in The Hellion - including the creepy forest where Alizon and James Device stumble across something terrible which changes their outlook forever. Check out my stories on Instagram (@thesenovelthoughts) if you’d like to see these places.

I can’t wait for you all to read The Hellion and thank you once again for your amazing support. Please, please keep sharing with family, friends, strangers...we are almost at the halfway point now, and it’s all downhill from there!

THANK YOU!

Harriet xx

150 backers!

Thank you everyone for your support so far - it has been less than a week and, already, the book is 20% funded. I’ve been overwhelmed by all of your kind words and wishes! Thank you for continuing to share with your friends and families; the more people hear about the book, the better. 

THANK YOU!

We’ve reached 20%!

Whalley, 1537: On a day like any other, a devastating fire changes the lives of two young girls. 
What happens next triggers a series of events leading inexplicably to the cells of Lancaster Gaol.
Lancashire, 1612: The most notorious witchcraft trials in England are taking place.
Among the accused, three generations of the same family. A family rooted in Pendle, tied to the infamous Malkin Towers and always followed by a whisper of evil. A family destroyed by the evidence given by a nine year old girl…

With a crack, the cradle is empty 
The mother is sobbing
The cradle is empty
With a crack
The sun never shone down by Malkin Towers. That's what everyone said. The place was brown, or grey in the winter, and enveloped in a smell – the smell of death, someone told me. There'd be kids about, dirty ones wearing rags, you'd never go past that way if you could help it because they'd rob you. But the kids weren't the worst thing, even if they were lice ridden. No. The worst thing was those evil demons, witches, murderers, the lot of them. Some in my family met a sticky end at the hands of them, and there’s a dozen families in the valley who could say the same thing.
Even now, even now after the whole place is gone, razed to the ground after the trial, I wouldn't go down that way. I'd rather walk a hundred miles out of my way. Why? Well. They really tried their best to get them, and they got most, and I do feel better for that. But the worst one. The worst one by far. She survived. And I know she did some terrible, terrible things. I saw her. She did them to me, she did them to my family, she even did them to her own heathen kind. And she's out there still, I'm always looking over my shoulder.
Sometimes my grandchildren will say to me, ‘why you thinking about that, Ma, it's been years and she were just a child, what harm could she do?’ And I'll say ‘you just count yourselves lucky you didn't have to live it, if you had you'd know.’ I'm not misremembering, even if I am getting on in years a bit now, because others know it too. I'm not being superstitious, because others know it too. No one goes down that way, by Malkin Towers. She could be anywhere, that one, and if she decided she wanted to get revenge against one of us, well, we wouldn't have a chance. Keep yourself to yourself, that's my advice, don't go near that evil ruin. And for what it's worth, make sure you say your prayers. Although they didn't help us much back then.
With thundering hooves 
The fall; an instant, an eternity
A skull cracked like an egg
Like an egg
1537 Whalley, Lancashire
They were collecting sticks for the fire when they saw it. It was a cold day for June, and it would be a cold night.
‘Annie, look!’ Elizabeth gasped, pointing towards the horizon. They had reached the crest of a small hill and, following the line of Elizabeth's arm, Anne could see in the distance smoke billowing towards the iron grey sky. She dropped her armful of sticks.
‘It's the abbey!’ She screamed and set off running down the hill, calling Elizabeth to follow her.
‘Stop, Annie!’ Elizabeth threw her own sticks aside and raced after her. Fire was never a good thing, not that much fire anyway. She ran and ran, jumping over tree roots and low stone walls to try to catch her friend. Anne was always the faster runner; she was only seven and could beat most of the boys in the village, so Elizabeth didn't have much of a chance. Before long though, Elizabeth saw Anne stop dead in the middle of a field. The view to the abbey here was very clear, and when Elizabeth caught her, clutching her side and gasping for breath, she saw what had halted Anne so suddenly. Men on horses. Men in armour on horses, looking like metal giants breathing fire. They were still a long way away, but even so they could smell the raging furnace and hear the desperate screams.
‘Annie…’ Elizabeth whispered, grasping her hand. Anne stood still as a mountain, and did not turn to face her friend. A tear carved its way down her cheek. A breeze suddenly whipped up and her tangled brown hair blew over her face, but she made no effort to sweep it away from her eyes.
Elizabeth knew exactly why. Smoke and fire was pouring from the abbey grounds, but the imposing abbey was made almost entirely from stone. The buildings which were much more likely to be burning were the wooden outbuildings, and Anne's father worked in the stables. Elizabeth's mother sometimes cleaned in the abbey, a favour from the abbot, but because the building was so sturdy, she wasn't afraid for her.
From this distance, Elizabeth could see glints of metal – the men were drawing their swords – and she pulled Anne with all her might over to a crumbling stone wall on the edge of the field. When they were hidden, Anne shook Elizabeth's arms away, crouched down and hid her face in her hands. Elizabeth crouched next to her, closed her eyes, and waited.
When she had been younger, she didn't know how old, Elizabeth's father had been arrested. She could remember now the men on horses who had arrived at their home, the thud of their hooves on the mud path. Her mother’s face had gone ashen at the sound, and she had hidden Elizabeth under a pile of rags in the corner. The men had dismounted with a jangle of iron on iron and thumped on the door. Her mother had glanced desperately at Elizabeth’s hiding place, pressed her fingers to her lips, then opened the door. Through a small gap in the rags, Elizabeth could see the men silhouetted against the doorframe, huge with their helmets and cloaks. One of the men had thrown her mother to the ground and she had stayed there. Her father had been sitting on a stool by the fire, mending his boots. He did not stand when his wife hit the floor, but carried on with his needle and thread, humming slightly. Two of the men had swept into the room, the scent of smoke and leather filled Elizabeth's nostrils, grabbed her father under the armpits and dragged him away without a sound. That was the last time she saw him (although she hadn't seen much of him before then either) and her mother eventually explained to her that he'd been hung three weeks later for stealing a sheep.
Lots of children grew up without a ma or a pa, that was just the way things were. Some went away, for a job, and never came back. Many died, there were often outbreaks and although the young children and old ones were usually the ones to go, sometimes a strong adult would pass. So Elizabeth never felt sad about having no pa, apart from when the Nutter kids from the farm across the way yelled at her, but it had been their sheep her father had stolen after all. Still, she knew why Anne was so sad. Her ma was already gone, child birth, she lived with her pa and her grandma and there were five other children, the littlest one only crawling, so who would keep their family going now? The Abbot would probably help, like he'd helped Ma after Pa was taken away. The Abbot said the bible teaches us to be charitable to those in need.
When some time had passed, more sounds came from the abbey – clanking and shouting. Elizabeth peered over the wall. As far as she could see, the men were getting ready to leave. They were hurling sacks over their horses, yelling to one another. Eventually, they were all ready and the horses began to canter in a cloud of dust. They came perilously close to Anne and Elizabeth, who ducked away beneath their wall and tried not to look at the grey, dusty giants hurtling down the path, stinking of scorched flesh and sweat. Fortunately, the men were distracted, cheerful, and did not spot the two small girls.
‘Annie, let's go,’ Elizabeth hissed when the men were a safe distance away, pulling at Anne's arm. Anne gazed up at her with eyes dark and bruised from crying. She allowed Elizabeth to pull her along silently, and together they trod carefully over the ever more singed grass towards the abbey. Elizabeth had been right – the abbey still stood, but there were no welcoming candles flickering in the windows. The building was dark, ominous.
They walked apprehensively through the stone gate and around the northern most abbey wall towards the stables. As soon as they had passed the wall, Elizabeth bent double and vomited, gasping, onto the floor.
Elizabeth's mother lay, glazed eyes staring at the heavens, her brown dress pulled up over her hips exposing a gaping wound to her stomach. White, icy still. There was no way anyone could survive an incision like that. Elizabeth crawled over to her, shock causing her to shake, put her arms around her neck and began to sob into her shoulder.
Anne swallowed back bile and left her friend with her mother’s corpse. She slowly walked towards the raging furnace which used to be a stable, eyes fixed in front of her.
‘Child?’ a disembodied voice whispered. Anne whipped around to see a monk hiding behind a pile of barrels, his round face sweating from the otherworldly heat, ‘have they gone?’
Anne nodded, her lips tightly shut, and kept walking towards the stable. There was an echoing, creaking noise and with a crash, part of the roof fell away. Anne lifted her head – she had hit the ground, and saw that the monk had pulled her safely from a falling burning beam which now lay smouldering on the floor beside her.
‘Don't go any further!’ The monk spluttered, his red face smeared with ash, ‘they came and created hell, and now hell is here on earth! God forgive me, I could not save them!’
‘Who?’ Annie asked tremulously, ‘where is everyone?’
The monk simply closed his eyes and muttered prayers under his breath, rocking back and forward towards the ground.
Anne knew she shouldn't be surprised about this. The King's men had come weeks before to arrest the abbot. Pa had said that they didn't like the old religion anymore, they had to do something different now, but the abbot had carried on. All the people in Whalley still went to the abbey, they still sprinkled salt over the graves of the dead to keep away the evil, and Abbot Paslew still said the last rites and lit the incense and said the secret, precious prayers. Pa said this was wrong now, they had to do things the new way and the King must have heard. Anne didn't know what the new way was.
The monk had turned away from Anne towards the abbey wall. Still muttering and murmuring his forbidden prayers, he raised his arms towards something on the wall, something thrust through a window on a spike and left for the world to see. It was wrapped in chains, skeletal, with rags hanging from arms and gangling, loose legs. Its face, if it could still be called that, tipped sideways from a broken, purple neck; mouth gaping wide and eyes blank.
‘Who?’ Anne asked the monk, who raised his head towards the sky and muttered, as though he wished it were untrue:
‘The Abbot. The King has returned him.’

The Hellion

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