Doves

By Chloe Jane

My lifelong captivation with doves, emblems of peace and purity, inspires this tale. Like the sky, which can shift from serene to stormy without warning, we often overlook moments of tranquillity, failing to savour them. In the same way, a pristine white sheet is destined to be sullied, a dove’s life is finite, as is the peace it represents.

In a world where time crumbles and facades are the norm, Joshua Jones is thrust into a web of deception that has been spun over generations. A legacy coursing through his veins propels him into an abyss of ignorance, compelling him to seek the truth.

As Joshua grapples with the enigma before him, his faith in what he knows starts to fracture. Faced with a jigsaw of trust and betrayal, the question lingers: does he truly understand anything? Amidst this uncertainty, Melinoe emerges. Will she be his salvation from the chasms of the unknown, or will she be the one to tip him into the void?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Apr 26, 2024
• ISBN: 9781035847792

Chloe Jane

Chloe Jane, a teenage girl who enjoys writing, reading, and going out with friends. Her book originated from the character of Melinoe and started as a drawing and developed over the two years that the book was written and, as well as all the other characters, has grown across the book.

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About the Author

Chloe Jane, a teenage girl who enjoys writing, reading, and going out with friends. Her book originated from the character of Melinoe and started as a drawing and developed over the two years that the book was written and, as well as all the other characters, has grown across the book.

Dedication

To my dad, for his endless support and belief in me and

my writing.

Copyright Information ©

Chloe Jane 2024

The right of Chloe Jane to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781035847785 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781035847792 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2024

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

1 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5AA

Acknowledgement

None other than the assistance given by staff of Austin Macauley Publishers, particularly the Editorial staff.

Doves

Ever since a young age, I have held a fascination for doves and their pure nature. A dove traditionally symbolises peace and purity. The sky as clear as day can change into a storm in the blink of an eye yet we seem to take the good moments for granted rather than enjoying them. A white sheet eventually becomes dirty just as a dove eventually dies along with the peace.

Enas

The ash clouds creep across the sun, covering it as a curtain would a window. The drizzling raindrops settle upon the stained glass windowpanes of the manor. My crystal blue eyes drift towards the swelling clouds above my head that gradually release heavy raindrops. As the hours slip by, the downpour increases significantly. The rumble of an engine sounds in the distance gradually approaching.

By nightfall, havoc had fallen over the manor and its surrounding village. Houses burnt to ash, buildings demolished, and families torn apart. The manor was no different, destroyed beyond repair and the family inhabiting the manor was lost in a whirlwind of time. All that was left was the face of a delicate china doll with hair as dark as night, crystal blue eyes as bright as the sky, and skin as pale as paper. Or so the story says.

Dyo

The bitter winds nipped at his pale cheeks as he walked briskly down the abandoned alley. His shoes softly clicked against the uneven pavement in the alleyway as his black coat wrapped around him tighter and his large backpack bumped against his back with every step he took. Normally his travels home would exclude going through the alleyway as the road next to his house goes almost straight to his front door, yet he was already late and the alley was the quickest option. This particular night, he had found himself sitting in detention due to a rather heated disagreement at school.

His firm knuckles knocked against the oak door of his house and the door swung open, revealing a short woman in her late forties. Joshua! You are home later than usual. How are you, darling? she spoke her thoughts. Joshua’s mother, Emma, had always been more of a worrier than a rule-setter.

I’m fine, thanks. I’m sorry for worrying you, Mum. I had detention. Alex was fighting with me again, he admitted truthfully to his mother. The two soon sat at the mahogany table enjoying their freshly cooked dinner.

Goodnight, Mum, Joshua wished his mother goodnight and trudged up the stairs, which creaked slightly under the added weight, and to his room. The walls were painted a cream colour to match anything in the room. His double bed sat in the far left corner of his room and next to it was a small bedside table. Opposite the bed stood a wardrobe and chest of draws along with his desk. LED lights lined the edge of the room emitting a vibrant light colour of his choice. The mauve curtains picked by his mother were drawn and he clambered into bed, awaiting the inevitable daily dose of sleep he was owed for his efforts today. Soon his eyelids fluttered shut and he was enveloped into a void of darkness.

Tria

Darkness obstructed her vision as she manoeuvred around her kitchen in the pitch darkness. As her foot came in contact with a hard corner, she struggled to contain a cry of discomfort and pain and instead nursed her foot in her hand, keeping the other on the surface next to her for stability. As the pain slowly subsided, she slowly shuffled back to bed.

The sun slowly rose from behind the clouds and another day began. She rolled out of bed unwillingly and pulled on her black knee-length school skirt, white polo shirt, black slip-ons, black buttoned-up cardigan, and black ankle socks. She brushed out the knots in her straight, black hair and tied it with a hair bubble into a low ponytail. Her books for the day were already organised in her bag by lesson order as she set off from her house to begin another day of pure torture at school.

Please complete questions one to five for now in the work booklet and we will refer back and mark it as a class in fifteen minutes, her teacher, Mrs Evans, announced to the class. As promised, fifteen minutes later, Mrs Evans began running through the answers. Okay, so it says to use the space below for working to calculate the term rule for the sequence 8, 15, 22, 29, 36. I’m just going to pick on someone because Charlotte seems to be answering a lot lately. Umm, let’s see, Melinoe how about you? What is the term rule for the sequence 8, 15, 22, 29, 36? Mrs Evans called. She sighed from the back right corner of the room but looked at her rushed work on the page.

Umm the term rule is 7n+1, Melinoe responded.

Yes, that’s right because seven multiplied by one which substitutes for n in the first term is seven and then adding one to the seven makes eight and it will carry on like that. What would be the term number if n equals twelve? Isabella, Mrs Evans called on.

Uhhhhhh, Isabella responded. Right so if it is the twelfth term then n is substituted for twelve so seven times twelve is… she dragged off. 84.

84 good then add one to that 84 gives you?

85, Isabella responded.

Good. Pack up everyone, I believe I’ll see you next Monday, enjoy the rest of your week, Mrs Evans concluded as people slowly dispersed from the classroom.

We have design now, right? Giana asked Melinoe as they descended down the staircase trying not to get pushed down by the crowd of other students of years seven to eleven. Yeah in design six, Melinoe responded. The two girls made their way to their next class and soon found themselves in wood tech.

So if you are on the practical side, I want you to grab a chisel and a mallet, hold the chisel straight and softly hit the mallet on the end of the handle like this, Mr Wilson said, demonstrating how to chisel the wood. Half the class was working on the tactical side of the project whilst the other half worked on designs and details to add to their model. If you save your work, then I’ll write your name down on the board and I’ll do yours when I can get to it, Mr Wilson told the students.

Why does today seem to drag on so much? Melinoe asked the girl sitting next to her, Sophia.

I know right? We’ve only been in this class for half an hour but it feels like it’s already been the full two hours, Sophia whined.

Finally, after many dragging hours, the school day came to an end for both Joshua and Melinoe.

The bitter winds nipped at his pale cheeks as he walked briskly down the abandoned alley. His shoes softly clicked against the uneven pavement in the alleyway as his black coat wrapped around him tighter and his large backpack bumped against his back with every step he took. Normally his travels home would exclude going through the alleyway as the road next to his house goes almost straight to his front door yet he was already late and the alley was the quickest option. This particular night, he had found himself sitting in detention due to a rather heated disagreement at school.

His firm knuckles knocked against the oak door of his house and the door swung open revealing a short woman in her late forties. Joshua! You are home later than usual, she spoke her thoughts. Joshua’s mother, Emma,