Tag Archives: Opening Chapters

Opening Chapters: Children of the Folded Valley

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Over the past few weeks on Medium, I’ve been showcasing some of the opening chapters from my novels. The series draws to a close with this initial segment of my dystopian sci-fi coming of age novel Children of the Folded Valley. Since it partly draws from my own experiences of growing up in a cult, it is perhaps the most “personal” of my novels currently in publication (though the term “personal” always strikes me as faintly absurd, as I consider all my stories personal in some way).

Here are the first few paragraphs:

We spend our adult lives trying to regain what we lost in childhood.

I do not claim to be unique in that respect. Whilst it might be argued that I lost more than some, we all, I think, chase after what we once had or never had. What we lost cannot be replaced, but we chase after it nonetheless.

Some think of what they lost with romantic rose-tinted spectacles, whilst others are more pragmatic. Some deny it, others get angry about it, others still accept it and seek help from friends, family, lovers, therapists, priests, gurus, or anyone else who will listen. But I cannot do that. I can never tell my friends, my colleagues, my wife, or my children what happened to me in the Folded Valley.

Since escaping all those years ago, I have been searching; but mine is not a sentimental journey. I do not long for the past, yet nor do I think of it as exclusively bad. I don’t ever want to go back, but I want things that are trapped there, lost forever.

What I lost, I lost on the railway line that runs along the southern edge of Dartmoor. I can still see the train disappearing; a silhouette against the bleak moors and darkening sunset skies. I can still smell the freshly cut grass, sense the cool breeze and feel the stinging tears. I remember the relief at escaping, the fear of what lay ahead, and the horrible churning sensation at the knowledge that everything I had ever known was gone.

That happened in August 1982.

From Children of the Folded Valley by Simon Dillon

You can read the whole of the chapter here, and read my companion piece article on this series here. Alternatively, to purchase a copy of Children of the Folded Valley (ebook or paperback) click here (for the UK), here (for the US), or here, if you wish to purchase via Smashwords.

Opening Chapters: The Thistlewood Curse

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In a brief series on Medium, I’m showcasing some of the opening chapters from my novels. These will be primarily from my gothic mysteries, though there may be one or two others. Kicking off the series is my supernaturally tinged whodunnit The Thistlewood Curse, which opens with these words:

In spite of the peculiar circumstances surrounding the death of Jacob Price, Detective Sergeant Laura Buchan had all but convinced herself there was no foul play. That he died as the result of a bizarre accident had become the accepted version of events for her and most of her colleagues. Only the senior investigating officer, Detective Inspector Ethan Roland, had any further inkling that Price’s demise was in any way suspicious.

Laura kept pinching the bridge of her nose in a nervous reflex. The questioning of her lifelong friend and occasional colleague Lawrence Crane should have been mere formality; an interview that would establish beyond all doubt that he had no involvement in Price’s death. But Roland kept treating him like a criminal. No doubt he considered his actions thoroughness, but Laura thought he was just being rude. Through the two-way mirror, Laura watched as Roland continued to question Crane in the interview room.

‘Are you glad he’s dead?’

Lawrence Crane leaned forward and stared for a moment at the mirror. His eyes met Laura’s and although he could not see her, she experienced the familiar sensation of discomfort, as though she were standing before him naked. His gaze seemed darker and colder than usual, no doubt because he didn’t suffer fools gladly, and Ethan continued to behave like one.

Crane returned his piercing, steel blue stare to the Detective Inspector sitting before him. Although his back was turned, Laura could imagine the dogged, determined expression on Ethan Roland’s face. He had a stocky, bulldog build that intimidated most people he questioned. But Lawrence Crane was not most people. He replied with an icy calm.

‘Obviously, I’m glad he’s dead.’

From The Thistlewood Curse by Simon Dillon.

You can read the whole of the chapter here, and read my companion piece article on this series here. Alternatively, to purchase a copy of The Thistlewood Curse (ebook or paperback) click here (for the UK), here (for the US), or here, if you wish to purchase via Smashwords.