Why do I write fantasy? The truth is, that I don’t, well not generally. Historically, I have written almost exclusively contemporary and haven’t  thought seriously about fantasy, other than a few stories here and there. It was a conscious effort to try to bring my love of reading fantasy forward into writing it. Even then, it starts in a contemporary setting and I build up to it. Once I get there, however, I throw myself into it one-hundred-percent.

Curious sticks, flying panthers, a city built on a dragon, a prince, a soldier and a world where gay is another word for joy. However, through the glitter, the talking trees and friendly fairies are threads of a far more serious nature. Fairy tales are not all mushroom rings and dancing fey. For every beam of light is a demon lurking in the shadows.

Tay is an ordinary boy who discovers he’s a fairy prince in the worst possible way. Unlike many in literature whose only problem has been adjusting to a world that works on different rules, Tay has deeper problems to wrestle with, starting with the shocking realization that the people he had always seen as his parents are not his family at all.

In the space of a day, he discovers that he’s adopted, his foster brother is a fairy, his best friend is possessed, he has a whole new family who is waiting for him in a place he didn’t know existed, and he has to leave the only life he has ever known, with no chance of going back, and walking blind into another one where people want to kill him and his only link to anything “normal” is a friend who is slowly turning evil. In book one, his sole focus is saving his friend. He has something to work toward, to make him strong. In future books he will first come to terms with his new family, and then with his role within the kingdom, all the while fighting assassins, falling in love with an air elemental, and learning how to fight the demons and save the world. Through it all, he remains a “normal” teen with all the tears and tantrums that go with it.

Take a boy from the valleys and put him in the middle of a field full of living sticks and a demonic best friend and see where it runs…which turns out to be into the mouth of a dragon via a grove of unicorns.

Suddenly, Cale grabbed Tay’s arm, making him jump. “I couldn’t bear it, Tay. I couldn’t bear the thought of that happening again. I was half-mad. If I hadn’t been, I would never have done that to you. I swear.”

“It wasn’t you, Cale. It was the demon inside you.”

“That’s no excuse. I knew what I was doing. I just couldn’t stop.”

“Did you? Both times?”

Cale ducked his head and moaned, “I can’t believe I did that to your mother. I’m not the kind of person who would do that to any woman, especially her. What am I turning into?”

“Did you know what you were doing?”

“I don’t know. Kind of. It hurts. It kind of squeezes in my head and everything goes slow and misty. I know what’s going to happen, but I can’t stop it. I–I think I might be able to stop it, but…”

Cale’s head bowed lower, and at first, his words were too low for Tay to hear.

“I can’t hear you.”

“It hurts, Tay, and I’m a coward. I’m scared of the pain, scared it will get like it was before, so I let it happen. I’m so sorry. I am a demon. I am what he says I am. Maybe I should let him kill me.”

“Hey.” Tay grabbed Cale’s forearm. “Don’t talk like that. It will be all right. I’ll get this fixed, I promise.”

Cale raised his eyes, and for a moment, they were black. Tay recoiled, but when Cale blinked again, his eyes were normal. “You don’t know what it’s like. I can feel it. It’s evil. There’s nothing it wouldn’t do, and I’m scared of what it’s going to make me do next. What if it makes me kill you?”

“You wouldn’t let it do that.”

“I…I couldn’t stop it.”

“You would. I know you would. You’re my brother. You’d no more hurt me than I’d hurt you.”

“You might have to. If I try to hurt you, you have to kill me. Or let Willow do it. Promise me.”

“I can’t promise that. I can’t promise to hurt you. Cale, I…no.”

“Please. If I hurt you, if I killed you, I wouldn’t want to live. If it’s between the two of us, I want it to be me.”

“It won’t come to that.”

“But if it did…”

“No. I’m not going to talk about this. I won’t talk about it.”

“Tay.”

Ignoring Cale’s tormented cry, Tay crashed through the woods and almost walked straight into Willow.

by Cheryl Headford

Genre: YA Fantasy, LGBTQ

Cale always told Tay that fairy tales were dark. But they always have happy endings, right?

Taylor Preston is a normal sixteen-year-old whose biggest worries are his GCSE exams. He’s right in the middle of them, but he has a summer of fun with his parents to look forward to after. Or not.

Despite their promise to spend the summer focusing on their one and only son, Tay’s parents, Local Authority specialist foster carers, take on one more special case.

Willow’s arrival throws more than Tay’s summer into chaos. Suddenly, his best friend is possessed by a demon, his parents aren’t his parents after all, and he’s literally living a nightmare in a fairy tale world that as dark as anything Cale ever warned him about. All he has is Willow and a burning desire to save his friend before he succumbs to the demon and Willow kills him.

Cheryl was born into a poor mining family in the South Wales Valleys. Until she was 16, the toilet was at the bottom of the garden and the bath hung on the wall. Her refrigerator was a stone slab in the pantry and there was a black lead fireplace in the kitchen. They look lovely in a museum but aren’t so much fun to clean.

Cheryl has always been a storyteller. As a child, she’d make up stories for her nieces, nephews and cousin and they’d explore the imaginary worlds she created, in play.

Later in life, Cheryl became the storyteller for a re enactment group who travelled widely, giving a taste of life in the Iron Age. As well as having an opportunity to run around hitting people with a sword, she had an opportunity to tell stories of all kinds, sometimes of her own making, to all kinds of people. The criticism was sometimes harsh, especially from the children, but the reward enormous.

It was here she began to appreciate the power of stories and the primal need to hear them. In ancient times, the wandering bard was the only source of news, and the storyteller the heart of the village, keeping the lore and the magic alive. Although much of the magic has been lost, the stories still provide a link to the part of us that still wants to believe that it’s still there, somewhere.

In present times, Cheryl lives in a terraced house in the valleys with her son, dog, bearded dragon and three cats. Her daughter has deserted her for the big city, but they’re still close. She’s never been happier since she was made redundant and is able to devote herself entirely to her twin loves of writing and art, with a healthy smattering of magic and mayhem

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