Lost and Found , livre ebook

L ost and F ound
Life often doesn’t look great written down, unless you turn it into a story.
Illustrated by Daniel J. Pouncey
B. E. Bradshaw-Baird
Austin Macauley Publishers
2022-11-30
Lost and Found About the Author Dedication Copyright Information © Acknowledgement Introduction Flowers or Birds for Lonely Trees The Maid and the Prince Mother Bear Lost with Wanderlust East or West, Captain? A Phoenix in the Fire The Prisoner’s Last Letter Tea Leaves and Dragons The Ways of the Traveller Finding Treasure The First Mark Is the Hardest A Night with the Moon Hide and Seek Daughters and Swords A Winter’s Trove Conclusion
About the Author
B. E. Bradshaw-Baird graduated with a joint honour’s degree in English Literature and Film and Television Studies from Nottingham Trent University. She now works and lives in her hometown in Northamptonshire with her family, where she spends her spare time writing, reading her way through her ever-growing shelves of books, painting with no concern of quality, and procrastinating anything important.
Dedication
For my mum, who gave me her fire and showed me why it was important to be brave, and protected me so well that I never had to be. For my dad, who helped me see everything good and wonderful in my life, and helped me make peace with the parts of it I could not control.
Copyright Information ©
B. E. Bradshaw-Baird 2022
Illustrated by: Daniel J. Pouncey
The right of B. E. Bradshaw-Baird and Daniel J. Pouncey to be identified as author and illustrator of this work has been asserted by them 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 unauthorized 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 9781398423312 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781398423329 (ePub e-book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published 2022
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd ®
1 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
London
E14 5AA
Acknowledgement
To start with the obvious and the most important, thank you to my mum and dad for raising me with a deep sense of appreciation for everything I have, but also in an environment where I felt safe and protected, as well as free to go as far as I dared. I would never have found the courage to try without your support and unconditional love. Thank you to my brothers Ashley, Brett, and Caleb for letting me rant and worry about my ideas I feared would never get out of my head, and always being excited for even the smallest breakthrough. Thank you to my best friends Daniel and Alex for being creative geniuses and working with me on everything we do together with such passion and diplomacy, we’re just getting started. Thank you to my teachers, in which I include my amazing aunts and uncles for always helping me move forward when I was falling behind and didn’t want to try anymore. And of course, thank you to Austin Macauley Publishers for giving my work a second glance.
Introduction
Everyone knows this.
You’re young, you grow, you learn, repeat.
No one is an exception and it never stops.
And it shouldn’t.
But at some point along the way, sometimes several points, you forget and you think you’ve evolved to the ultimate version of yourself, you’ve got it all figured out and nothing can surprise you anymore.
Sometimes this is an encouraging thought, sometimes a terrifying one.
But it doesn’t matter because it’s bullshit anyway.
No one stops, and if you have and think it’s just age, it’s not, you’ve just decided to close your mind to new experiences and outlooks.
Maybe this is for self-preservation or protection, or maybe you enjoy feeling like the smart one who’s all grown up.
Please don’t do this to yourself.
Learn.
Unlearn.
Relearn.
Change.
Grow.
Evolve.
Fuck up.
Fix it.
Move on.
Live.
I can help if you like, just give you a little example of how I think I’ve grown.
Ever since I was little, if I was upset or worrying about something, or I just felt strongly enough about something that it was getting distracting, I would write it down.
Just how it was, exactly as I felt at that moment, no editing, just venting.
And it always helped, like a weight off my back so I could deal with it, or move on.
I found these notes a little while ago, and was surprised at how much I disagreed with myself.
Not to say I think I was wrong necessarily; I just think differently now.
And this was a little bitter sweet for nostalgia and all that, but mostly it was so comforting, motivating even.
All these troubles and worries that held me down and haunted me for what felt like my whole life, fixed themselves without me even noticing.
I didn’t need to address them when I felt ready like I thought I would, I just had to get on with my life and let them change as I did.
Constantly.
Goodness knows what I’m going to think of this when I’m older still, but I’ll never be stuck.
As long as I keep my mind open, and remember that as long as I’m alive, I’m meant to grow.
Flowers or Birds for Lonely Trees
“Some women are birds, some are flowers.
These birds start life squawking and wailing for what they want, then learn to sing and say beautiful things you want to hear, to manipulate you and get their way; gaining both your attention and praise for a while.
The flowers start as buds.
Simple buds that impress no one and blend into the scenery.
But then, quietly grow, listen, watch and understand.
One day they bloom fully and catch your eye, distracting you from the birds’ continuous song.
You are stunned by the flowers’ sudden beauty and relish in its subtle fragrance.
The flower adds life to the humble home or wood.
While you become accustomed to the repetitive tune of the bird, you never fail to appreciate the presence of the simple flower.
You want flowers in your life.”
“I understand the appeal,” said the tree, bare of leaves and brittle from the harsh winter wind. “A flower is often good company, adding to the warmth of a sunny afternoon, but what about when it snows?
Hails?
Freezes the land and darkens the skies?
The flowers always leave me in such conditions, alone and waiting until it’s more convenient for them.
But the bird has awoken me every morning with her ‘repetitive tune’, helping me tell the difference between dawn and dusk, stopping the winter spreading into forever.
The bird may not be for everyone, but for me her strength has shown me what I need in my life, I don’t need beauty and subtlety, I need resilience and loyalty.
I want the squawking, the wailing, and the noise, I want to know she is there.”
The Maid and the Prince
“I am happy.
I am a very happy, lucky person and am content with my life.
That is why I read.
Through books I live and feel through fiction, other characters with so many different lives, circumstances, attitudes and impulses.
I can experience pain of loss, sadness, guilt, joy and relief with such intensity that I forget myself sometimes.
Books allow me the chance to experience these emotions without the consequences the characters face.
With one move I can close the book, go downstairs and have a cup of tea and continue with my own life with little, if not no drama compared to what I have left on my bedside table.
Then when I feel like I need a higher dose of emotions, I open the book and live with those inside it.
Every book I read teaches me things.
Not necessarily academic facts, but life lessons.
Things about myself, my species, my world that I can never unlearn.
With every book I consume, I change as a person, for better or worse, but either way I grow much faster than those who don’t read.
I keep a piece of every book with me, locked away and ready to revisit when needed.”
The scullery maid set down the dish she was drying, and paced towards the closed kitchen window. “You are lucky.
Do not take this as an insult or judgement, but you are so very lucky.
Many seek out the fictional as a means of escape and distraction from the very real problems their lives have dealt them, a short refuge into constructed events leading to a satisfying conclusion.
All problems – solved.
All quarrels – resolved.
All questions – answered.
All injustice – righted.
A tonic for the frustrations real life offers.”
She pulled out the modest dagger from the sack of flour on the floor, gaze now fixed through that window on the young princes dismounting from their horses after a morning hunting trip.
“You are indeed lucky to not have the need for this, to seek out the troubles of characters with no consequences as a means of entertainment.
But this means you have yet to feel the truest connection between author and reader.