Vernon Hall – Press Release

Vernon Hall and Other Stories: Gothic Short Stories Collide, Amid Enigma of Victorian England

Sana Pirzada’s ‘Vernon Hall and Other Stories’ provides a fascinating glimpse into Victorian England through four short stories, a series of morality lessons and a unique cast of characters that encapsulate the era’s mystery. From Lord Ravenson to Vernon Hall – Pirzada’s latest volume is a beautiful work of fiction.

 FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

 United Kingdom – In 2016, Sana Pirzada stormed the literary scene with her debut novel, ‘The Rose Within’, which took her fascination with gothic fiction to a very personal new level. Following much success, she now returns with ‘Vernon Hall and Other Stories’.

It’s a collection of four different pieces of fiction, each inspired by Victorian England’s Gothicism and narrated by those with strong connections to love, death and spirituality.

Synopsis:

Vernon Hall & Other Stories is a collection of four short stories in the style of the Gothic genre. Set against the backdrop of Victorian England, each story narrates several morality lessons through the lens of unique characters.

Lord Ravenson narrates the story of a writer, Meriweather Willoughby and the challenges that he confronts in winning his love. Though he is poor himself, he proves to be a very charitable and noble man who attains his heart’s desires by being kind to others. Supernatural elements of werewolves/ vampires and clairvoyants are all present. The moral of this story is: Sometimes God pushes you on a certain path you never thought you would take. And the spiritual journey that lies ahead is often a life-changing one.

Madame de Quincey narrates the story of a young girl, Penny Brown and how she wishes to escape her dysfunctional family. Madame de Quincey, a kind witch tries to help Penny but the story takes an unexpected turn. The moral of the story is: Love is all about self-sacrifice and true love has no boundaries – no ‘ifs’, no ‘buts’ and no conditions.

The Withered Mistletoe (a long poem) narrates the story of a young boy, Horace whose mother is dying. He accidentally stumbles upon a haunted house called Thorn Manor and meets the ghost of Baroness Thorn who initially scares him off but once Horace listens to her tale of woe begins to empathise with her and tries to reunite her spirit with her estranged son. The moral of the story is: Even death cannot undo a parent’s love for their child and a child’s love for their parent.

Vernon Hall:  is a story within a story. It begins in London during the Second World War and Christine the narrator highlights how the war has damaged the country and her own life. She then begins reading her deceased mother’s journal and the reader is transported back in time to the Victorian era when Christine’s mother, Eleanor was a young woman. Eleanor’s Journal then narrates how she was taken under the wing of the noble Amelia Vernon, an aristocrat and how she ended up living at Vernon Hall, Amelia’s family estate in Kent by the sea. But Vernon Hall has many secrets and a history that is blood-curdling. Eleanor eventually falls head over heels in love with the alluring Ezekiel Lloyd – but he is not quite what he appears to be. It is a beautiful love story with horror elements – a dark Gothic romance. The moral of the story is: love that is true forever burns.

“Each story stands alone, but also collectively comes together to paint a portrait of England back in the Victorian era, as Gothicism defined the architecture and culture of the period,” explains the author. “It’s definitely a collection that will leave readers with some soul-searching to be done.”

Continuing, “I’m also thrilled to be partnering with Jelena Zibert, a world-class illustrator who brings the four narratives to vivid life through her stunning art.”

‘Vernon Hall and Other Stories’ is available now.

For more information, visit the author’s blog: http://sanaspirzada.com.

About the Author:

Sana Pirzada is a barrister by profession as well as a writer and aspiring musician. Her debut novel, The Rose Within — A Gothic Romance’, was first published in 2016 and was a Finalist in the Wishing Shelf Book Awards and won a Silver award in the ‘Mystery-Fiction’ category of the Global E-Book Awards 2017.

‘Vernon Hall & Other Stories’ is her second book, a collection of short stories in the style of Gothic fiction, a genre Sana is fascinated by.

 

First look at the new cover for ‘The Rose Within’

First look at the new cover of ‘The Rose Within’ being published by Austin Macauley (UK publishers) on 30th May, 2018 in Sha Allah. Congratulations to ‘The Rose Within’ for making it this far! The ‘e’ on the cover page is the Silver medal won in the Global E-Book Awards one of the best achievements of the novel so far. This time both paperback and hardcover are being published and will be available from: www.austinmacauley.com and www.Amazon.co.uk

rosewithinnewcover

‘Vernon Hall’ Chapter One

The coffin was empty. Where was her body?

I was petrified. My head was dizzy and my body sluggish from the horrors of the night; yet I compelled myself to stand up. My vision was blurred and my senses benumbed. I shielded myself from the penetrating rays of daylight which streamed in through the stained-glass windows. I again looked into the glass window of the coffin to ensure I was not concocting a nightmare. But I was not. It was actually empty.

I let out a cry, but then I realised it was pointless. Who would come to my rescue? Indeed there was no one in that house but her and me. Even if I had died at that very moment, no one would have known for days. It took me a while to regain my senses and recollect consuming the entire bottle of laudanum the night before. There was no other way to sleep for I had had countless sleepless nights; there was no other way to alleviate my anguish, my wretchedness – that was the only remedy I was forced to resort to. Perhaps I was hallucinating? Perhaps it was nothing more than the mere after effects of laudanum. So I looked into the coffin again a third time.

But this time I was not hallucinating, I was not delirious. Not only was the coffin empty, but the stone floor was stained with drops of blood. I took a moment to locate what part of the house I was in and I suddenly remembered I was in the tower. I walked carefully to the spiraling stone staircase and embarked upon my descent. From the top, all I could see was a hollow darkness below, as if I were descending into a pit of lost souls, an abyss; I was entering unchartered territory and yet until the night before this had been my very own home. Well not quite mine, it was hers, but what was hers was now mine. I had always sensed an ominous presence here in this house which had centuries ago been a Catholic monastery, but not so much as I felt it at that very moment.

I saw torn pages scattered all the way down the staircase. I bent over and picked one to find it was written in Latin from the ancient Catholic manuscript. My head was heavy and pained excruciatingly – the paper dropped from my trembling hand and I held on tightly to the bannister and made my way down painstakingly.

When I finally reached the first floor I felt an icy breeze. It’s strange the windows from the lounge were wide open. I never left them open especially not at that time of the year. That side of the house overlooked the sea and it was extremely cold being the middle of winter. I leaned my head out of the window and saw the silver sea shrouded by the early morning mists. It was indeed a very misty morning and it almost presaged the arrival of something I dare say….evil. I shut tight all the windows one by one. The pain had extended from my head to my back, my arms and now my legs.

I dragged myself out of the icy lounge; the embers in the fireplace had died. It was a carcass of a house like an abandoned ship stranded in the middle of icy waters haunted by deadly creatures. I was that cursed captain who had to witness the death of an entire crew and endure the doom single-handedly.

A sound suddenly interrupted my morbid thoughts. It was a sort of rustle. The rustle then turned into creaks, thumps and then there was silence. My heart raced as I saw her bed-chamber door ajar. Someone was in there.

I slowly dragged myself to the door and gently pushed it wider. The window inside her room was opened and the icy breeze struck my face. I confess I visited her room every day in her memory, staring at her portrait which hung on her bed-chamber wall, lying on her bed for hours and weeping for her; opening her wardrobe and reminiscing all those moments I saw her in those lavish garments. But I never opened that window. I walked directly towards it, when I heard the rustle again from behind and I spun around. My hands were cold and numb and my heart palpitated intensely. My tongue was numb too, I tried to speak but I could not. I saw her standing before me, by the wall.

It was Amelia in the white dress, the same dress she was buried in. The whiteness stained by the blood dripping from her mouth. Her curls were as auburn as they had been when she was alive and she stared blankly at me with her beautiful emerald eyes.

“Amelia?” my lips quivered as I spoke her name. I could not believe I was talking to her again. I was trying not to frighten her, but most importantly trying not to frighten myself.

She had adored me like a daughter so I knew she would reciprocate lovingly though I had foreseen it to be a painful reunion. But instead the blank stare turned into a glare filled with fury. Her emerald eyes were now a glowing red; she took a step forward to peer at me. I had never in those two years seen Amelia in such a wild fury.

Horrified as I was, I attempted again,

“Amelia, it is I, Eleanor, I’m trying to help you. Don’t be afraid”.

It was in fact I who was terrified, nay terrified was an understatement; there are insufficient words to describe the fear that overcame me as I saw her glowing red eyes. She again took a step forward still glaring at me when I heard the Latin incantation. It did not come from one source; it seemed to come from every nook and cranny of the house. She covered her ears and closed her eyes in fear.

“No, no” she cried painfully.

“Amelia, don’t be afraid, I will protect you”, I cried.

But it was too late, the Latin incantation grew louder and louder until I could bear it no longer and neither could the poor woman, if I could call her a woman, a ghost, a lost soul whatever she had now become.

Covering her ears with the soaring noise of the incantation she let out an agonising scream and I ran to her rescue.  That’s when I suddenly woke up and realised it was all a dream from years ago, or rather a haunting memory which had returned to torment me.

 

Ramadan Reflections 2017

This is only the initial stage of Ramadan, but I’ve been contemplating a lot on the purpose behind this Holy month, my connection with my Creator and Islam in general. So far I’ve reached the following conclusions which are very basic in their scope but nevertheless are notions to ponder over:

1) It may sound as a cliche but fasting actually equips one to be tolerant and disciplined. We take food and water for granted – in our daily routines we fail to acknowledge what may be a daily struggle for many poverty-stricken people around the world. Even so we are still lucky Alhamdullilah that when we open our fast we have clean water and fresh food to eat – millions don’t. Irrespective of whether it is Ramzan or not, we should always think of the poor and must help them every chance we get. Every time we sit down to eat and see the luxurious food God has bestowed on us, we must always think of helping the poor and those who can afford should make it a habit of doing so on a regular basis. People are literally dying of starvation and diseases. Don’t waste money on unnecessary luxuries; if you have money spend it on the needy.

2) Secondly and this is something we should observe all year not just in Ramadan – whilst we are fasting we refrain from things we would normally do such as the usage of foul language, backbiting and arguing – if we can refrain during Ramadan, why not eliminate these sins altogether?

3) Thirdly when we focus on the Quran and its deeper meaning we come to realise Allah created us for a reason – it is up to us to decipher what that reason is remembering that we have a short time in this world to fulfill it. Wealth, children, career and other worldly goals are not the answer and should not be the basis of one’s raison detre (meaning of existence). Then what is it? This is up to every individual to reflect on.

4) When we come to realise that we serve Allah and that come what may Allah is always there for us, He forgives us for our sins, He helps us when in need ultimately we are accountable to Him – we must then focus on our duties towards Him. This does not mean one should adopt an isolationist policy – by all means live harmoniously and help one another as much as possible, but don’t give too much importance to any one human to an extent that we are unable to focus on God. This becomes a sort of ‘shirk’ when we give precedence to certain people over everything else that we are unable to focus on our duties towards Allah, we are unable to be thankful to Him for His blessings – all that matters to us is being happy when that person whom we obsess over calls us, become sad when they don’t – no one is permanent in anyone’s life but Allah is there for us from birth till death and in the Hereafter. Help people, we need one another – but don’t obsess over anyone.

Let’s all strive to become better humans InshAllah and be kind to each other, be courteous to each other and understanding. Let’s be tolerant, forgiving and let us follow the right, moral path which Allah has set out for us.

I apologise to anyone I may have hurt at any point in my life intentionally or unintentionally.

Have a blessed Ramadan!