Iris Gold: The Journey To Orland

By Sandra Sopher

Iris Gold is a young witch who is eagerly awaiting

the celebration of her thirteenth birthday, which

coincidentally is also Halloween 31st October.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Publicious Book Publishing
• Release date: Nov 3, 2020
• ISBN: 9780648995517

Book preview

Prologue

1505 AD

Deep

in Witchwood stands a wooden and stone shack with smoke billowing from the chimney. The sky is dull and grey as usual but at least there is no rain today. Several rats are scurrying through holes at the side of the structure, which they’ve just eaten through.

Hanging in a row along the edge of the shack are several pigs’ heads as well as dried out toads that sway on ropes. Two vultures cling to the roof trying to peck at the toads while dodging a spell from a witch; she’s trying to shoo them away as she lies on a carved up tree, stuffing some boiled pigs’ eyes into her big mouth.

A far more dominant head witch is stirring the contents in a big black cauldron muttering to herself and chanting in a growling moan.

‘Hurry up with those pig eyes, will you,’ the witch shouts as she stirs.

‘Coming, sister. They’re a bit slippery,’ says a third witch as she juggles the eyes then tosses them in the pot.

‘Will one of you useless waste take care of those beasts?’ demands the mean witch in a deep tone as she stirs.

‘Ugh, I’ll do it. Why do I have to do all the dirty work around here?’ the second witch complains as she struggles to get up, and then walk towards a large cage crammed with children. She jolts her arm and a huge wooden club appears. Another jolt ignites the wood and flames burst from it.

The children inside the cage have been stolen in the dead of night, some from the streets and some from their cosy warm beds. They’re all crying with their heads down as ordered. The witch bangs and drags the wooden club across the cage.

‘Stop whimpering you whiny youth! And keep those heads down! If you dare look up, I’ll turn you to stone! Turn you to stone I will!’ she orders and with every crash on the bars they jump with fright but dare not look up.

‘Yeah, bow your heads little creatures, when you’re in the presence of greatness,’ screams the third witch as she points her bony finger and sprays water from it like a hose.

They quickly quieten down. With that, the two witches shuffle on and the third joins them gathering around the cauldron.

‘Are we going to toss some in the pot?’ says one of them, eager to see the young children bubble away.

‘Personally, I’d like to keep two as pets if possible, a boy and a girl, blonde with blue eyes if you don’t mind,’ says the other, adjusting her hat.

‘Well I DO mind, there’ll be no boiling of beasts or keeping them as pets until I work out a spell for our eternal beauty. Besides, I only have enough for the incantation, unless you no longer want to change? You can stay old and ugly and play around as you like,’ states the ruthless witch.

Their faces droop even further.

‘I will not be staying in this state, I can tell you right now,’ barks one witch.

‘Or maybe she’s trying to put us off and keep all the creatures for herself? Yes, that’s what she’s doing. She doesn’t want us to be beautiful,’ the other one whines.

‘You two are both so pathetic. I don’t know how we are sisters. Just look into the elixir and see what you can be!’ the fierce witch says convincingly as she casts her hand across the steamy pot.

They all bow their heads and the bubbles subside to reveal three of the most beautiful young ladies, one with hair like a raven, one with hair of fire and the last with hair white as milk; all with skin smooth as silk.

‘Don’t we look beautiful? So young and fresh,’ the raven-haired witch says convincingly.

‘Oh yes sister,’ the other two say in unison.

The witches are so mesmerised by the beauty they see in the cauldron that they don’t notice the children making their escape by picking a lock and running for their lives towards the woods, screaming and crying.

The reverie soon ends. Suddenly their reflection changes, reverting back to their old ugly selves, as they are alerted to the escapees running away noisily.

‘CURSUS! THE BEASTS ARE HEADING FOR THE WOODS, RAPIDO!’ The the witch leader orders them to hurry.

‘AFTER THOSE CREATURES, URGEO,’ they call urgently as they fly after them.

‘OUR BEAUTY, EXITUS,’ one of the witches shrieks as they try to capture the little ones back again.

Suddenly the most astronomical blinding flash appears from nowhere lighting up the woods; it lasts only minutes then there is complete silence, no sign of the children or the sisters. It seems they are no more … or are they?

I

A pleasure to get rid of it

Over

500 years later, a world away, lives a young girl named Iris Gold. She’s twelve years old and very beautiful. She has long, golden brown hair and you’d be forgiven if you thought the ends were actually woven in gold. She has the biggest almond-shaped violet eyes you’ve ever seen, a petite nose and a perfectly shaped tiny frame, almost like she’s been crafted by hand. Iris is the daughter of Digby and Mari Gold. The Gold family live in Witchway, a small but very old town in America, and have a very successful business: healing and burying the dead. I suppose you could call them ‘gold diggers.’ They have been in the business of burying folks for many, many years, which seems peculiar considering how young they look.

But looks can be deceiving.

They live on the premises of their work in a rambling old mansion surrounded by big iron gates and a huge iron fence. The back of the house looks over a graveyard which is a world of its own.

Once a year, on October 31st, the Gold family has a smashing Halloween party. People come from miles around to see the sight and what a sight it is! They gather and just stare—from behind the gates of course. The Golds take pride in decorating the mansion, and it already has an old eerie look; but with all the recently added spooky props it looks really frightening. It’s October 1st and only weeks before Hallows Eve. The Golds are very excited, not just about Halloween, but for another reason as well. It’s Iris’s birthday. Their daughter will be turning thirteen. And she can’t wait. They are so thrilled. At thirteen, she will not only become a teenager, she will also be at the centre of some other rather strange and wonderful occurrences.

Iris and her mother are in the kitchen cleaning up after their supper. Mari Gold is a very elegant lady with long flamered hair, big eyes with misty eyeliner and red lips. Her nose is small and cute, exactly like her daughter’s.

‘Mum, when are we going to the market bazaar to get some extra knick-knacks for Hallows Eve, and my birthday party of course?’ asks Iris, as she wipes the last plate dry.

‘We could go tomorrow darling! What do we need?’ Mari asks, taking the plate from her daughter’s hands and placing it on the shelf.

‘Well, I think I’d like some more lanterns, candles and lots of pumpkins for our jack- o’-lanterns,’ replies Iris.

‘Sounds like we might need more than that. How about you write a list and we’ll fix it all up tomorrow?’

‘I’m so excited,’ Iris says, stamping her feet. It is late and she is just about to go to bed. ‘I’m going up now, Mum. Love you,’ she says and puts her arms around her.

‘Get a good night’s sleep darling, and we’ll go to the bazaar in the morning,’ Mari replies as she kisses Iris on the head.

‘Goodnight Mum, love you,’ Iris calls again as she runs up to her room.

‘Goodnight my beauty. Straight to sleep now.’

‘Of course,’ Iris replies. She goes straight to her room, changes for bed and opens her window.

It’s quite a cool night. Iris’s window looks over the graveyard, which would give most twelve-year-old’s the creeps, but not Iris. She puts her soft violet light on and turns down her bed cover, but doesn’t get in. Instead she walks to her window and leans on the windowsill. All of a sudden, a gust of cold mist comes whizzing in and a beautiful glow appears in front of her, floating in midair. Materialising before her eyes is a young boy with spiky hair and a mischievous face.

‘Boo,’ he says.

Iris doesn’t even flinch.

‘Boo? Boo? Is that the best you can do?’ she asks. ‘Gosh I still can’t get used to that freezing cold air flying at me like a dagger.’

‘Aw, don’t be like that. It hasn’t been long since I crossed over and I’m still getting used to my spirit form,’ explains the ghost boy.

‘I suppose,’ Iris replies, shivering.

You see, Iris is a different kind of girl; she sees spirits, ghosts and ghouls and communicates with them. Iris has been talking to the other side for as long as she can remember and it has never bothered her one little bit. It comes completely naturally to her. The ghost is a twelve-year-old boy named George, who died in a car accident. He was and still is Iris’s best friend. Even if he is a ghost.

‘So, what happened today, Iris?’ asks George.

‘Well, nothing much happened today, but we’re going to the bazaar tomorrow. You know it’s that time of year again! Yay, I can’t wait,’ Iris replies, prancing about the room.

‘I know. Your birthday and I won’t be with you,’ says George sadly.

‘Yes you will, silly. Of course you’ll be there,’ replies Iris, trying to reassure him.

‘I suppose. But not in human form and it’s not the same,’ he says glumly. ‘But I guess it’s better than nothing.’

‘Exactly. Now I know there’s a lot of talk down in the graveyard about the party and how you’re all going to scare the living daylights out of all those innocent humans wandering around looking for ghosts!’ Iris says, trying to sound firm. ‘But George, please try to control those spirits and don’t stir them up too much, ok?’

‘Ok, but it’s so much fun when we waft by them. They simply can’t see us and doing it on Halloween night gets them super scared,’ George says, as he floats above Iris’s bed.

‘Well ok, but just not too much. I don’t want any trouble, that’s all,’ she says, scrolling down her music list on her tablet.

On that fateful day when George became a ghost, he was as surprised as anyone.

He was both pleased and confused when Iris started talking to him on the day he died. They were walking home from school, a car came from nowhere at them, didn’t stop at the crossing and killed him instantly. Iris survived without a scratch.

Iris said to George, ‘George, it’s me Iris.’ As he opened his eyes, he didn’t know if he was dead or alive. As he stood up and saw his lifeless body lying there, he just smiled. While the scene was complete chaos, Iris was told she was lucky she had jumped out of the way. As you can imagine, she was very upset that her best friend had just been killed. Still, they remained the best of friends.

‘So, want to go for a romp down in the yard?’ asks George.

‘NO! This late! Are you crazy? Mum would freak. Besides, I’m a bit tired today. It’s been a long day, so I think I’ll go to bed now,’ sighs Iris.

‘Ok, talk tomorrow? You can tell me all about the bazaar,’ says George, as he slowly dematerialises. ‘Good night, Iris,’ he says and slips out the window.

Iris shuts her window, jumps into bed and closes her eyes. She is asleep within minutes. Just then her door slowly opens. It’s Mari Gold. She turns out the light, kisses her goodnight and whispers, ‘Night, night angel.’

The next morning Iris springs out of bed. It’s a sunny but cool day. She opens up her wardrobe which is filled with a sea of black, white, red and purple clothing, with a splash of pink and blue. Grabbing a black, frilly miniskirt and a purple, long-sleeved top and putting on some long black boots she runs downstairs.

‘Morning’ she says and sits down to her pancakes and maple syrup, immediately getting stuck into them.

‘Hey sweetheart. All ready to go?’ asks Mari.

‘Yep, sure am,’ Iris replies, smothering the pancakes in fresh whipped cream.

‘Sweet cakes, off to the bazaar today I hear,’ remarks Digby as he tucks into his breakfast.

‘Yes we are. You coming Daddy?’ asks Iris, layering even more whipped cream on top of her pancake pile.

‘No sweetie, I’ve got lots of work to do, plus I have a funeral today. Poor old Mr Venables just couldn’t hold on any longer’ he sighs sadly.

Digby Gold is a well-built man with a youthful face and strong jaw. His gold glimmering tooth shines when he smiles—literally a smile of gold. Digby also sports a bold voice, and is totally smitten with his daughter. She’s definitely Daddy’s girl, that’s for sure. He is hard-working and looks after his family with all his heart. He is ‘special’ in his own way.

‘You all have a good time now, and make sure to get me some of those scrumptious roasted chestnuts’ he says as he gets up and leaves for a day of work, which is only as far as the cemetery out the back.

‘Ok Daddy, love you too,’ replies Iris.

After breakfast, they get the day underway and set off for the bazaar. As mother and daughter drive along the streets of Witchway, Iris leans her chin on the window and stares out at all the passing houses, shops and people. Many houses are already starting to put up their paraphernalia for the Halloween festivities. It’s about a fifteen-minute drive and they pass some of the many landmarks of Witchway, one in particular being ‘The Witch House,’ a seventeenth century house which used to belong to a judge. He hunted down and tried suspected witches, then put them to their deaths by burning or hanging if they were found guilty of practising witchcraft. The poor victims weren’t even witches, just sick, lonely people or someone the powerful people in town wanted to get rid of. Or just someone to blame if their children got sick and died.

‘The witches did it,’ is what they used to say. But the real witches were too smart for the mere mortals; they would survive century after century.

The witch house still stands and is so haunted looking. It’s used as a museum for tourists to visit and tell folks ghost stories of the past.

Iris and Mari have entered Witchcraft Heights and shortly arrive at the market bazaar. It’s very busy inside the bustling market with folk everywhere filling baskets and trolleys with goodies. Everything from turkeys to exotic birds can be found here. As they stroll along, Iris spots a friend in the crowd.

‘Hey Bea!’ she calls and waves to her. Bea runs over to Iris.

‘Hi Iris, I didn’t know you were coming,’ says Bea, greeting her.

‘I know. Kind of last minute. Where’s your mum?’

‘She’s getting some flowers. And yours?’

‘Candles. Over there,’ replies Iris and points in the direction. ‘Wanna come get some pumpkins with me?’

‘Sure! Cool, I need some too.’

The pumpkins come in all shapes and sizes and have already been gutted inside. All you have to do is carve on the face shape that you want.

‘Hello Iris. Can I help you young ladies?’ says a very large man standing behind the stall.

‘Yes please, Mr Gumpy,’ says Iris. ‘I’ll take four of the giant ones and ten medium ones please.’

‘Okey-dokey, whatever you say and what about you …’ asks Mr Gumpy.

‘Bea, her name is Beatrix Brun,’ Iris says quickly.

‘Beatrix Brun, is it? Well then, what can I get you?’ asks Mr Gumpy.

‘I’ll take four small ones please and just Bea is fine, thank you.’ Bea gets very sensitive over trivial things or maybe just plain picky is more like it; she just always has to have the last word.

‘Sure, no problem, whatever you say.’

Iris needs quite a few in order to cover the grounds and give it a spooky feel. She likes to put one giant pumpkin on each side of the pillars at the cemetery gates. It looks perfectly scary with the backdrop of the graveyard.

Mr Gumpy piles the pumpkins into the trolley.

‘Do you mind if we have it all delivered? Same place as usual,’ asks Iris.

‘Certainly. Not a problem at all,’ replies the big burly man. ‘I’ll take care of it, don’t you worry.’

‘Thanks for that!’ Iris says, before leaving with Bea.

They wave and go on their way. As they walk, they see many wonderful and colourful bits and pieces. Iris picks out some paper lanterns with witches on broomsticks. She also gets some orange and black tulle fairy lights. They carry on as they chat along the way.

‘Iris sweetie, don’t go too far ahead!’ Mari calls out.

‘Ugh! I’ll wait here at this stall for