It is with very great pleasure that I welcome you to meet the wonderful, beautiful Lily Adile Lamb, an extraordinary woman of such huge heart and kindness, and now an accomplished Author. Welcome Lily, and i am so very proud to have you here on my blog.
Bio- Lily Adile is from Turkey. She works as a nurse by day where she feeds her soul by caring for others. At night she tends to her imaginations and heart by writing Sweet Cozy Romances.
Lily Adile's focus in her stories are on mere mortals because she believes that love is universal. Her mortal heroes are not rich, famous or incredibly handsome males or females… rather they are just everyday people who work hard and deal with whatever that life throws at them.
Lily believes that an individual's own identity and expression is influenced by many factors including but not limited to, culture, religion, social restrictions, customs and beliefs...this makes one's sense of self very diverse and fluid so my main focus in the stories are people who want to express themselves in the way that feels right and kind to them and others.
She supports Marriage Equality and stands by same sex parents because she believes all a child needs is a loving and protective home.
She loves writing happily ever after stories. She imagines readers make their hot or cold drink and make themselves comfortable to settle in and read my stories after a long stressful day at work. She tends to write novelettes with the thought that when someone reads my story, they close their eyes with a smile and sleep a little better. She wrote the story Ninia Sebae for the same reason that her readers will read it to relax and let the daily stresses drain away.
She usually comes up with plots after reading a news item or perhaps see an activity in a public view. What she dreams feels real in her head and she wants to tell her tale. …Yes, she is more of a storyteller than anything.
Lily especially thanks her husband with all her heart for his endless patience, love and support. He is the love of her life and apple of her eye….he is the home she goes to at the end of a hard day at work.
You may follow Lily on the following links.
Ninia Sabea blurb-
Angela’s parents died in horrific circumstances a few years ago, about the time she had last seen her childhood home—a quaint, old cottage situated deep in the woods that holds many secrets.
Angela’s return to the cottage in the mysterious woods intends to be a once in a lifetime opportunity for her to ease back into a time that held an easier and simpler life. Yet, in her slumber, she dreams of a woman with flaming red hair. Baffled yet intrigued, Angela wonders who the woman is she dreams about.
After a chance encounter with a stranger who ironically resembles the woman in her dreams, Angela’s life changes forever as she learns more about herself and the woods surrounding the quaint cottage that has a set of secrets all its own.
Angela tried hard to swallow, pushing the lump down her throat as she drove down the muddy dirt road. Years had passed since she had last seen her childhood home. Years that seemed an eternity, clouded by avoidance and her father’s atrocities, standing between Angela and her roots. Just remembering what happened all those years ago made her shudder yet again. Taking a moment, she shook her head, trying to overcome the horror of the past.
She knew that she would never understand what unspeakable torments made her dad murder her mother and then hang himself in the barn, while Angela had been with her grandparents who lived a considerable distance away in the city.
She wished that coming back here wasn’t her grandmother’s dying wish, but she couldn’t refuse her Nan’s last request. At the same time, though, Angela was glad that the old woman had made this wish; avoiding her past had not been the most “helpful strategy” towards managing her deeply rooted trauma.
It was getting cooler as the evening approached, causing Angela to close her car window. It was a nice change to feel the crisp air against her face after a long hot summer. Mind you, in the country the weather was always different from the metropolitan area. Where she had lived, there were high-rise buildings instead of trees, and those buildings certainly contributed to making the summers hotter and drier. She was sure the country areas would have been a little cooler because of the vast openness with less man-made structures overtaking nature.
As she drove, her mind wandered to the fond memories she had of her Nan, familiarly known as Grace by her large social circle. Until the day she died, Nan never stopped talking about her childhood before she met Grandpa Bill. Even though she lived in the city for many years, her Nan had been a country girl deep inside. There was something very heart-warming about listening to Nan’s stories from her youth because of the way she always perked up when recounting them. The old woman’s happiness never ceased to ignite a sliver of happiness inside Angela either… but often after the conversation, Angela’s happiness was tempered with a disappointment that she had never had the chance to grow up in that cottage nor to have experienced such good times.
But that wasn’t all her Nan spoke about. The mention of Grandpa Bill was also never far from Nan’s recollections.
“Oh, Angela. I’ll never forget the day when I met your grandpa. He was so handsome and so polite. One afternoon, I was picking berries by the woods and there he was, looking all frazzled. Bless him, his white shirt was daubed with mud and his face was smeared with engine oil. When he couldn’t repair his car, after a while he gave up waiting for a passing car to seek help and simply decided to walk along the road in the hope of finding assistance. As you can appreciate, back in those days, there were no mobile phones. He was so lucky it was early afternoon and he was skirting the edge of the woods, otherwise who knows what would’ve happened to him.”
Recalling how her Nan used to look troubled about the possibility of him wandering into the woods in the dark, Angela quickly looked around as she continued driving. Nope, she saw nothing creepy or suspicious about the area.
As she continued driving, Angela’s mind wandered back to her Nan’s story of how she met her precious Bill, “My heart melted for him, seeing this poor bedraggled man walking near the woods, Angela. After that, he kept coming to visit me. Ohh, he was a silver-tongued fox. The more I listened to him, the more I fell in love with him. Needlessly to say, despite my parents’ objections, I left everything and went with Bill.”
She remembered asking Nan why her parents had been against her union with Grandpa Bill. Nan’s answer seemed incomplete because of the intense level of sadness on her face, “Oh, Angela, it wasn’t about Bill. They just didn’t want me to move out to the city… I wasn’t supposed to leave but Bill couldn’t find a job there so I had no option but pack my bags.”
Angela still wondered about the woods because of the way her Nan spoke, so she was a little pleased that on this trip, she might find out what the big fuss was. It was as if the woods had its secrets that Nan knew about but wouldn’t or couldn’t elaborate upon. Whenever Angela tried to expand her awareness about the woods, Nan would quickly change the subject. Now I am free to explore and learn about this place.
Remembering how Nan missed Grandpa Bill, just as she also did, a smile crept across her face as she reflected on the intense joviality of her beloved grandfather. He would also have done anything for his family. Tragically, finding Angela’s parents’ bodies had been too much for him. Soon after finding their dead bodies, Grandpa Bill had a massive stroke and passed away in the lonely confines of the hospital. After his death, Nan and Angela lived together in Ilford until the frail old woman’s passing, just over four months ago.
Angela had known that her distant cousin, Helen, had been living somewhere in India. She had worked as a vet at a charity organization for some years, busily rescuing and treating stray dogs. It had been years since anyone had heard from her, so Angela had no contact details to get in touch with Helen. In frustration, Angela sent a letter with her cousin’s name on it direct to the organization, with the hope that Helen would receive her mail.
Soon after sending the letter, Angela arranged her business affairs, and then left Ilford to spend some time in her childhood home.
After having driven for hours without any proper breaks, her back protested. The pinched nerve between her shoulders bugged her. She pulled her shoulders down a little and sat up straighter to relax her back and muscles. Ignoring her fatigue, Angela tried not to yawn as she opened the window wider to bring some of the cold air inside the car.
When she saw the cottage in the distance, all Angela could do to contain herself, was to clasp the steering wheel tighter, and slow the car down until she eventually stopped near the front door. She could see that someone had been taking care of the old thatched-roof dwelling, which came as a pleasant surprise.
The white front door looked clean although greying as the early evening approached fast. Even the veranda was amazingly tidy, trimmed with potted hydrangea plants sitting pretty under the windows. Nothing’s changed!
As she looked at the cottage from her car window, Angela noticed how picturesque it looked. At the same time, she noticed there was something almost foreboding about the surrounding woods. The tall trees seemed more than just dark shades as the evening approached.
The mystery grew even more within her as she looked at the small building. Remembering that whenever she asked Nan questions in the past, all she would receive was a pacification from her dear grandmother, “It’s in good hands, Angela; that’s all you need to concern yourself with right now. When the time is right, you’ll visit that place again.”
All that time, Angela assumed the cottage was just left unoccupied and at the mercy of Mother Nature. However, looking at the small dwelling, she wondered whether anyone lived there or simply came regularly to maintain it. Even the single brick chimney looked to be in good condition.
The cottage was well away from mainstream civilization. It was surprising that no houses were built close by. She wondered when the last time the postman had visited.
There were no street lights around, but then there were no bitumen roads either. The intermittent electricity used to come from a noisy generator which she remembered so well. It was a cantankerous piece of machinery. Belching smoke, making unearthly noises at times, and generally having a mind of its own. As she contemplated whether the generator would still be in working condition, Angela thanked her stars for bringing her battery-operated light and a few candles, just in case this would be the time it decided to misbehave!
Looking at the thatched roof, she could see it was complete and intact, the thickly layered straw protecting the interior from the weather. The white wash on the mud walls looked like someone had painted it only a short while ago. The weatherboards on the walls were darker, appearing proudly defiant, against the elements. She could see through the windows that the cottage was dark inside, unnecessarily feeding her imagination. Makes me think there are fairies or something lurking around.
Angela chewed her bottom lip, as she recalled the layout of the dwelling. She wondered if anything had changed inside. Imagine if someone had modernized the insides of the cottage even though judging by the curtains, it couldn’t be the case. She remembered her mother had sewn those floral curtains many moons ago.
Angela stroked her chest to calm her anxiety as she continued examining every small detail of her childhood home. She had driven there with trepidation, fuelled with fear of both the known and the unknown. Anyone who simply wandered to the area would never guess that there was so much good energy here, countered by an insidious dose of evil after what happened to her parents.
She shook her head reminding herself that her childhood home was built by her mother’s ancestors who made the cob lumps with their very own hands. It’s nothing more than a mud mixture made from earth and straw. It’s just a house, laced with some memories and nothing else. Looking at the slightly lumpy outside walls, Angela told herself that her forebears built them with patience and hope. Her mother and Nan told her about how their ancestors had smoothed the slowly hardening mud walls under the hot summer sun.
The history of the dwelling used to be a story told from generation to generation as if it was a fairy tale. Nan used to bring her tea and after a delicate sip from her favourite cup, she would tell the story, creating episodes. Back then, it was like a fairy tale without the fairies, at least for Angela.
Smiling at her recollection of how her mother used to sing at the top of her lungs while she cooked in the small kitchen facing the back garden, it uplifted her spirits enough to relax in her seat. Every time her mother started a new song, her dad used to roll his eyes playfully at the way her mother sang so out of tune, as he tried to focus on reading his Bible.
Angela pondered how she would feel inside the house on her own tonight. She wondered whether the two upstairs bedrooms, one facing the front yard and the other facing the back garden, still had their charming furniture. All of them lovingly handmade by her ancestors, gracing the rickety furniture that her parents collected from second-hand furniture shops.
She didn’t know how long she sat in the car, doing her best to avoid looking at the section of yard where the barn was set back from the main home. Her great-great-grandfather built it that way, to give some separation between home and business. When she reluctantly looked towards the barn, a sense of dread rapidly overcame Angela. She gasped shrilly, with the blood draining from her face. It’s not there! She frantically looked around in case she had made a mistake, but the old wooden barn was nowhere to be seen.
The entire structure was gone, scrubbed from the hard-packed dirt. In its stead were two young oak trees. Eyes wide open in total shock, Angela stared at the young oaks and the older yew trees beyond. She thought the trees used to be well away from the barn, but now seemed to be within the proximity of where the structure had once proudly stood.
Angela absently rubbed her cheek as she got out of the car. I’m so confused. She wondered when the barn had been pulled down.
As a child, the whole area looked so big and wide but now, she wasn’t sure of the layout; the area somehow looked more crowded with the trees. It seemed the woods wanted to reclaim this history-laden tract of land.
With the sun now kissing the horizon, the temperature dropped considerably fast.
When she got out of the car, everything was eerily quiet—so quiet that Angela could hear her own breathing.
The rich scent of earth presented as a delightful memory for Angela, almost as if the woods had welcomed her back. These were the trees that kept the air so clean, soaking up all the nasties from the environment. As she took a few more deep breaths, a sense of peace settled in Angela’s heart. I could even smell the damp soil with the slowly decomposing leaves. The rich pungent scent must surely be Mother Nature’s ever-changing perfume. Come summer, there will be a smell of heather, lavender, and daisies along with heaven knows what else.
The trail from the cottage towards the woods was clear, as if someone made sure it never disappeared. On each side of the dirt trail were the lush yellow and pink thistles gracing long green grass, daisies, and the dandelions. She couldn’t smell the daisies from where she stood but promised herself to have a walk around tomorrow in daytime for a closer encounter.
A personal not from Sean Kerr
I have had the pleasure of knowing and loving Lily now for almost a year. Lily was one of the very first people to welcome me onto the author scene when I started, and her kindness and her generosity has truly touched my heart. The world could do with more people like Lily in it, for she is a diamond that sparkles in a sky that is sometimes very dark, but she always glitters there, with her wonderful heart, and her beautiful smile. She is an extraordinary woman, and I Hope you fall in love with her as much as I have.