Archive for angels

Available now…

Posted in Book Club with tags , , , , , , , , , on August 4, 2017 by Kate Jack

… from Amazon, Smashwords, itune and Kobo.

For your delight and delectation – absolutely FREE! 😀

Welcome to a world of faeries, dreamers, history and much more. A Pocketful of Stories contains twelve short fantasy tales, filled with delightful, and not so delightful, characters, plus a bonus free chapter from book I of The Silver Flute Trilogy, Land of Midnight Days. From the dreamer who does not wish to face up to reality, to the shopkeeper and his daughters who yearn for adventure, A Pocketful of Stories will take you through multiple worlds and situations.


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You know what?

Posted in General with tags , , , , on October 2, 2015 by Kate Jack

I’ve decided I’m a grumpy old cow. Why? Well, as regular readers of this blog will know, I quite often vent my spleen about Twitter and Facebook, how some people take advantage and are completely selfish and insular. However, it’s time to give credit where credit’s due. What I should’ve also said is that not everyone on social media is like that. In fact the selfish and greedy posters and tweeters are in the minority, when compared to the generous folk who retweet, share and favourite other people’s posts. In fact they’re angels. 😀


So to all of you, and you know who you are, thank you for making my day. ❤

kj 2

An angel’s song for Christmas

Posted in Short stories with tags , , , , , , on December 15, 2013 by Kate Jack


Michael moved through time, the soft beat of his wings bearing him effortlessly through the night sky.


His job was to watch out for those in need, those whose lives were on the wane. Filled with the compassion and love inheritant to his kind, he often shed many a tear when he took the cold hand of a recently dead child, warming it in his own, as he guided the precious soul to its final destination.


The other angels in his group would poke gentle fun at him for this, but they didn’t understand; his tears were not of sorrow, but of joy at being able to give the gift of solace and peace.


Michael glanced around the star speckled, moonlit sky, and smiled. The coldness of the air did not trouble him. He glanced down at the city below; tonight was special, tonight was Christmas, and he had a final call to make.


He bore downwards, invisible to all, apart from the soul he had come to collect.

Winter’s breath swirled about Michael, ruffling the pure white feathers of his wings, as he flew towards his destination. The city was soon left behind and the misty shapes of suburbia took its place.


The frost covered pavements sparkled in the glow cast by the streetlights. Michael cupped his hands. A glow filled them. Nestled within it lay the celestial watch, issued to each angel – he was right on time.


He glanced up. The person he’d come to find was more than ready to leave. He could feel the soul’s yearning to be free from its pain and confusion. It twisted and turned, the colours of its aura shifting and changing. A mass of emotions emanated from it: fear, anguish … but most of all regret.


Michael landed soundlessly outside the house of retreat, made specially for those whose time was over. He entered, then glided along a corridor, until he reached the place where his passenger lay alone in a darkened room.

The old man lay on his bed, and gazed up at Michael,  dark eyes filled with sudden hope. His  troubled expression smoothed out, as a childlike smile touched his lips. Michael lay a hand on the man’s forehead, before stepping back, arms spread wide in a gesture of welcome.


Behind him, the room filled with light, and as the angel began to raise his voice in song, a heavenly host shimmered into view. Music, glorious and filled with wonder, drifted into the dying man’s ears. A sigh escaped his lips, his eyes closed, and his body, so recently racked with pain, relaxed.


‘Welcome home, my son,’ Michael whispered and held out his hand.

The old man took it and replied, ‘This’s the best Christmas present I’ve ever received. Thank you.’


One last chance.

Posted in Short stories with tags , , , , on June 1, 2013 by Kate Jack


The planet was almost entirely devoid of life. Trees, plants, animals and people – all were gone and had been since the end of the 21st century. One too many oil spillages at sea had poisoned and suffocated fish and birds beyond redemption.  Global warming had at last taken its toll. Tornadoes and tsunamis raged unabated and swept the world clean of all life…almost. Only empty streets, roads and buildings were left and the world had become a giant graveyard. A graveyard containing not only the corpses of those who’d once lived there, but all their aspirations, dreams and ambitions for the future were lost too, evaporated into the polluted air.  

In a once great city, in a country formerly known as Britain, the wind whistled and shrieked amongst the debris, raising great clouds of dust, the only sign of movement…almost.

An entity drifted centimeters above the ground. Its outline was tenuous, a shimmer of light, amidst the gloom. Had there been anyone to see, they might’ve called it an angel, or a spirit. Perhaps it hailed from beyond the stars, from a world that had not yet learned to destroy its environment.

The entity paused and looked around with an air of pensive sadness. It seemed to be considering something, pondering the wisdom of a decision yet to be made. Then it continued on its way, until it reached a street of houses.

Empty, darkened and broken windows met its gaze. Lopsided gates creaked and scraped against broken, weed infested paths that led to front doors with blistered and peeling paint. All this the entity surveyed and after a moment, raised its head and appeared to commune with some invisible authority in the sky above.

Do it, a voice whispered in its mind, but do it right, this time.

The “angel” nodded and the ghost of a smile appeared on its ghost of a face.

It raised its hands and the air shivered and wavered like a mirage in the desert. A figure appeared. Faint at first, it took only seconds for it to coalesce into the form of a girl. She was young, about nineteen, with elfin features set in a pale face, surrounded by long, brown hair. Large hazel eyes blinked away the sleep of decades and tried to focus.

‘Where am I?’ she whispered in a voice, rusty with disuse.

‘Home,’ the angel replied.

 ‘Impossible, it was all destroyed – I saw it.’ The girl shivered and wrapped her arms about her cotton clad body. ‘There was fire and acid rain. Fumes choked us, the food and water ran out.’ Tears filled her eyes and clustered on her eyelashes like jewels. ‘We fought like savages, trying to survive. We did dreadful things to each other – all in the name of survival.’

Again the angel smiled. ‘But not you,’ it murmured. ‘You tried to help.’

The girl turned away, arms still clasped about her delicate frame. ‘But it was not enough.’

‘It could be.’ The angel drifted closer. ‘If you had one last chance, what would you do?’

‘What can I do? I’m dead. This, all this…’ she gestured around her, ‘is just a memory – a phantasm.’ She focused on the angel, ‘and so are you.’

Raising its hands again, the angel turned in a slow circle. The whole street shimmered this time and when it cleared, the houses were whole again. The gardens bloomed and filled the air with the scent of spring. Birdsong fluted, its liquid music beyond beauty. The young woman’s face filled with wonder and that most precious of human emotions – hope.

‘All this could be real again,’ the angel said, ‘all you have to do is show the world how to get it right.’

The girl smiled, her face was radiant. ‘What do I have to do?’

The angel held out a hand. ‘Come with me,’ it said and led the way back down the corridors of time, back to the beginning.



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Do you ever wonder what lies…

Posted in General with tags , , , on January 26, 2013 by Kate Jack


…at the end of life?

Is it the cessation of toil and strife?

With loved ones gone before, reunite?

At the end of the tunnel is there really a light,

so bright and wondrous, awaiting us all?

Do we rise or do we fall?



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