Sorrow Hill - Echoed Whispers

By Ken Donaldson

The conclusion to this powerful impacting story from the Sorrow Hill Epic Series has finally been completed and now you can enjoy re-reading the first two again as you refresh your memory and prepare yourself for all the long awaited tragic events that Emalia's ghost has unleashed to this world.
Taking years in the making comes a life time spent with the final part of Emalia’s tragic tale told In Sorrow Hill – Echoed Whispers from the well renown Series: Sorrow Hill.
See how the story ends for a strong independent woman surviving in a time of historical era as her voice whispering echoes rising up from beneath lands where high society life once lived and flourished during a life of her own, speaks out through her tormented spirit which endlessly suffers the horror she knew in hopes her soul’s confession to you shalt be justice enough allowing Emalia’s spirit freedoms sweet release to finally know eternal sleep for peace in rest.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Oct 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9781471799440

Ken Donaldson

I am the Storyteller of tales, a poet, novelist who can bring to life a world that only you can see through my compositions scribed on parchments to take you to places far beyond the realm of just one reality

Book preview

Table of Contents

Sorrow Hill – Echoed Whispers

Credits

Contents

Whispers Remembered

The Suitors

William Smitlong

Meaningless Love

John’s War Dawns

William’s War Begins

Final Hour Calls

Note from the Author

Sorrow Hill – Echoed Whispers

Author: Ken Donaldson

Date: 10 Oct. 21

ISBN: 978–1–4717–9944–0

Credits

Thank you to Natalia Zinkevych from

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for providing such a lovely cover for this Novel Sorrow Hill - Echoed Whispers

The beautifully made dress from her collection which the cover features was chosen especially for this cover used by the model during a photo shoot set in the background theme era of this novel.

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Contents

Whispers Remembered

The Suitors

William Smitlong

Meaningless Love

John’s War Dawns

William’s War Begins

Final Hour Calls

Note from the Author

Copyright

Legal Disclaimer

Whispers Remembered

Hand cramped to arthritic pain held ink wet quill etching quick on parchment unfinished words not yet told leaking out of my mind’s eye her final memories of life, Emalia’s life! Once lived in another time whispering to my thoughts. Thus, upon lateness to the hour time hastens my spirit’s breath driven by unknown forces tarry on. Tho, my flesh aches for rest from this withered body fading to emptiness before my eyes’ vision. The fire which fills my blood as I sit here fighting against the grim reapers call on an accursed hill avails me no rest inside now empty rooms of an estate once soaked in a richness of a history drenched to those blood-stained souls who grant me no rest on dying breath; my hand that remains forced to write.

  My Name is Daniel Warthensmit current owner of Sorrow Hill Estates. The one who is now fulfilling the last request of a lady’s story known to history alias Anna-Rose Hill whom, I know be truth Emalia Hill.

If only you could imagine my delight at making a dream, come true in life having bought a winery estate at a council sight unseen auction sale to reclaim council rates owed.

Even one as run down as Saltbury Estate had become over time. With its rustic old century feels and charm that had managed to warm the cockles of my heart. Despite badly neglected grounds over run by a mix of head high trees and a dense growth of chest height grasses along with the homestead which had fallen into a state of unliveable condition requiring a lot of work to be restored. Only to one day discover an amazing history of Emalia Hill inside this attic. But that was where I was stepping back to the beginning of my own life starting dreams a far younger me held. For now, allow me to first share with you a small piece of opening history I discovered from those scattered parchments, personal letters and what remains of her diaries littering the upstairs attic still lightly scented by Emalia’s perfume of the day where I had discovered her skeletal remains.

Although I must admit my first concerns were with restoring this estate for my own needs and comforts became the reasons, I stowed Emalia’s story away to be forgotten many years passing till now. Since living in the servant quarters at the time was less than my own expectations. Enters my own life’s journey for a history that comes to be my own sorrow in many ways whilst my wasted youth passed to this point where I found myself old and alone. Unable to ignore those whispering echo callings of Emalia’s name casting sounds within my mind along with visions that started growing stronger in glimpses of her tormented lifetime once lived upon this estate. As for my own life’s’ tale that is a story for another day.

  The visions I see are more like waking dreams coming to me of flamboyant high society balls held in a granodioritic old fashion settings, people of notable wealth and a tragic past of horror that began to unfold before my eyes with such intensity I feel that I am actually there right now living the life once lived by Emalia. Whose unrested spirit seems to be reaching out to me from her grave beseeching me to sought through the pile of loosely stowed parchments I have kept all these year in this attic and write down all the untold story she as my muse shares to me for you: of a time’s full circle bringing me back to finish telling the tale of her life so Emalia and I may finally be free of this tormented nightmare for death’s sweet release finally knowing rest in peace. It is here where I pick up her story and in my own best efforts portray written word etched for read missing chapters of an amazing woman’s life tale by Emalia’s consciousness I feel as if she was inside my own body authoring through me.

I see vividly clear a beginning turning back through the pages of history past as if her life were mine own life residing in another era among people though strange as it may seem yet familiar to me. A time of life filled with high excitement longing to a simpler world far different than that I know of my own. The year 1449. A shimmering fantasy; one calls, rights of society privilege where life abounds in an endless array of drunken debauchery filled with dealings dark and fowl conducts held by traitorous men conspiring with and against each other in what would be a meaningless existence lavished through stolen titles deceptively conceived by false reputation, nobility and ill-gotten wealth of every kind for the inherent value family name shaping a legacy to be left behind. It is during these times dwells the young lady Emalia born to life in real name commenced life to an inherited wasted lifestyle back at the tender age of sixteen to be spent under a regular drunken haze flirtatiously socializing through, oh yes, the arms of men a woman of high society stature can easily acquires. Like so many others Emalia came to be caught up in the wilds and beauty society’s shameless life has to offer, that over time consumes one’s mind and soul. Tho, I pick up the story not back from her entry at age sixteen here. For her untold chapters start:

"Thus, I have willingly enjoyed the fanfare during my life, lost in a sea of endless faces spending my nights wasting my mid-youth pursuing an interest of self-indulgent pleasure pass tragic a tale of time my vengeful youth passed bitterly curse in fullness of time’s passing back now. Oh yes, I recall clear to tell moments those suitors whose, shallow pretentious egos called scandalous privilege a rite by reputation of family name for moments pleasurable entrainment sought feminine comforts expected to be granted at later times often in quieter places of my own person. Even as I write I hear them, those voices, whispering echoes inside my mind" I quote from Emalia’s parchments. In turning of the page brings me to a moment in time that Emalia received a request from the household of Slimp third Friday September 1449 expressing curiosities as to when, she shalt beholding the annual harvest ball. Tho, the Harvest Ball event normal would nought be held till summer’s end, the story thickens as the later surprise came in learning the Slimp’s request, proved primarily, an expression of interest in forming a union between our two households through wedlock to son Kevin. Whom had sought to re-established a connection from their past life existence of younger times in an effort to breathing new life, a second beginning for Emalia; or as Emalia has written. Shalt, I say just the purpose to life I had been searching for during those several months’ prior my wondering aimlessly day to day with naught enemies left to conquer and the depressed spirit that had settled across the estate through the recent passing my head butler. ‘A ball’ I thought, ‘yes, a ball would be a wonderful idea’.

Hence, I waisted nought time responding to the Slimp’s letter setting down a date for the second Saturday of October 1449 in invitation hosting a Lord’s and Ladies Ball three weeks approaching. Sparing myself little time, having announced the ball’s