Sorchia's Universe

The Witch hits the fan in these episodes of “A Cold Spring.”  Need to find previous episodes? Start HERE . Episode 13: Magic of the Darker Sort Stately stewards carried in the main course on silver platters—a savory roast seasoned with rosemary and thyme. The sumptuous fragrance drew oohs and ahhs from the assemblage.  Cutlery clinked on the fine china, crystal goblets glittered, and the hall filled with laughter. Conversation bubbled throughout the room, ebullient as the champagne. Even the older relatives seemed to relax. Though the La Croixs sat on one side of the table and the Darkmores on the other, they chatted across the steaming plates and sparkling glasses as if the two families had forgotten centuries of uneasy alliances before Lucia blasted them apart.  With a flourish, the steward refilled Maddock’s glass with champagne and mine with sparkling apple juice. Maddock touched my glass with his and nodded toward the gabbling, laughing crowd. “Am I mistaken, or does this seem to

Looking for previous episodes of “A Cold Spring?” Start HERE with a pdf of episodes 1-8 and a post of episodes 9 and 10. Episode 11: Kinship Will Out In the ensuing years, Aunt Clarissa and I discovered many of our kin whose wits had not been so muddled with wine or so shocked with disbelief that they could not escape the carnage of Old Highmoor Castle. Still and all, better than two thirds of both the Darkmores and the La Croixs perished that night. The survivors scattered to the four winds, animosities forgotten in the struggle to stay alive without the strength of numbers in a hostile, witch-hating world. Slowly but surely, Aunt Clarissa gathered the Darkmore survivors together in an organized but widely-scattered family once again.  Lucia’s curse spun a web of fear and mistrust. We did not meet in large numbers; we did not seek out the La Croix survivors who, like the Darkmores, gradually reconnected; we concealed our true natures; and we did not returned to Highmoor Province, th

Witches and curses and magic–OH, MY! “A Cold Spring” is a wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimy story of tragedy and survival.  If you’ve just discovered it and don’t want to wander all over the Interwebs to read previous episodes–scroll to the bottom for a pdf of Episodes 1-8. Episode 7: Goblets of Fine, Old Wine Goblets of very fine and very old wine delivered by a young and slightly inebriated La Croix cousin put an end to any thoughts of a clandestine rendezvous upstairs. Our duties as host and hostess called. At last, the long road leading from the forest to the castle lay empty and it was time to toast and mingle among our disparate relations. Copious amounts of wine and Scotch flowed from crystal carafes, and the murmur of voices grew to a cheerful din. The moon peeped in the western windows of New Castle Highmoor before our respective circuits brought us back together on the veranda. “I’ve spent the better part the evening either tracing my lineage back to satisfy your relatives or tracing

Civil Hearts  by my Novel Magic guest, Claire Gem, promises an interesting romantic triangle: A southern gentleman, a Yankee girl, and the ghost of a Confederate soldier.  Antebellum Dreams by  Claire Gem Sometimes story ideas lay their seeds in my brain but hibernate there, germinating without warning some 20-odd years later. It was the mid-1990s, and I had made my home on the west coast of Florida with my husband and three kids. We’d been living there for about ten years, but the cost of living along with the cost of raising three kids was pinching a bit . . . plus, Florida property values were up. Some very good friends of ours had recently sold their Florida farm for fat cash and moved to Alabama, near Birmingham. They bragged about the low cost of living, property, et al. We drove up to visit and toyed with the idea of relocating there as well. Yes, property was cheap, albeit desolate beyond the city limits. We went around with a real estate agent who showed us vacant land for hun