The sun was setting. The city was bathed in a golden glare, and the street lamps lit up one by one. The streets were filled with the clamour of dozens of people coming home from work or going out to cheer themselves up. In Elpida there was a pleasant evening atmosphere…
No, I can’t start my story that way. While I do remember the pleasant evening then, the events that took place later and in the days after completely cloud my memory. Therefore, I’d better drive straight.
My name is Michael Dodgson and I am 32 years old. About two months ago, I was out with my girlfriend Lily for a walk on the streets of Elpida. As I said, the evening went pleasantly and it was finally time to send Lily home, as I always do after our meetings.
Suddenly, however, the sky darkened, a wind howled out of the east and storm clouds began to roll in over us. I looked up and sighed. Another unnatural storm. Lily told me to get home as fast as I could before the downpour started, and got in a cab to take her home while I took a bus. Twenty minutes later, I was home and drying my hair from the rain (after all, the bus doesn’t stop right in front of my house) when Lily called me.
The rain had stopped and she had the taxi drop her off a little further from her house so she could walk around some more. We began to comment on the weather, which she thought was unbearable. Lily was just approaching her apartment and had to pass through an underpass when something unexpected happened. Suddenly, mid-sentence, she screamed and called my name, and then her phone hit the ground and the connection disconnected.
* * *
I’ve known since I was very young that magic exists. And I don’t like that at all. Yes, as a child I was impressed by the stories my grandfather would tell me of fantasy worlds related to our own, of creatures from fairy tales that live with us and are indistinguishable from humans except to the initiated. My grandfather loved these stories. His father, whose last name I bear, even wrote books on the subject that are popular to this day.
That was not how things stood as I took to growing up and realizing exactly what the presence and intervention of these creatures in the human world meant. And there is no better place to realise this than London, the city where I was born and raised.
The metropolis is literally full of all sorts of creatures and places whose place is in the books of legend, but sadly they often go out of there.
I’ve fallen quite a bit for it as someone gifted with the ability to see and recognize the extraordinary. I’ll give you a few examples.
At the age of twelve, I was an hour late and in a hurry to catch the subway train near where I lived. What was my surprise when, wending my way through the subways, I came upon a station I had never heard of at all, and, often said, would never want to hear of again. A minute after I arrived at the platform in question, at the so-called Mab and Titania subway station, the sound of an arriving train was heard and two headlights lit up at the bottom of the tunnel.
As the engine slowed down, I saw through the windows the most horrifying sight of my childhood – the carriages were filled with freakish creatures – ones with tusks and bristles, ones with insect legs and centipede heads but human bodies, and ones with bodies but no heads. When the door opened, I ran and hid behind a column, shuddering with terror. The “passengers” began to disembark, and as they passed through the doors of the cars, they emerged from the train as perfectly normal people in suits or work clothes. The tube started moving again, and the “people” headed for the stairs and London above us.
From that incident on, I had one thing in mind when it came to the supernatural. Unfortunately, this was only my first encounter with it. One evening, now sixteen, I was walking around town when in a nearby park I saw a man in a Queen’s Guard uniform turn into a bear and run off somewhere through the trees. Shortly afterwards a child’s scream was heard. The next day the news reported an escaped bear hawk from the zoo that had injured a small boy, but was killed by one of our monarch’s faithful guardians.
And a few years ago, a friend of mine from school eloped with a crazy man who lured her with promises to travel through time and space in a narrow wooden box. I’ve seen this guy before, as well as other lunatics with the same ideas, always posing as medicine men and luring young girls to “travel” with them…
Taking all these incidents into account, hardly anyone would judge me for deciding to leave London and move to live somewhere quiet. I chose it to be a relatively small town in Northern Ireland called Elpida. Why there? On the one hand I liked the island and its lush green fields, and on the other one could still feel a subject of Her Majesty there, and Twinings tea was not the sort of thing they offered abroad. I was leaving London after all, but I wanted to stay British…
Elpida is a truly peaceful city, with a population of only a few thousand people, with small streets where one can safely stroll both day and night without worrying that one of the houses one passes by is a black magician’s castle disguised with magic, or that the newest building in town is actually not a skyscraper at all, but a vessel for interdimensional travel. There aren’t even skyscrapers in Elpida. Neither does the subway.
The only trace of magical intervention I found after living here for quite some time was a leprechaun who had taken the role of a bank clerk and was using his office to amass his wealth. I did not become a customer of the bank in question, but the leprechaun did not bother me at all.
Oh yeah, I forgot to mention the name of the town, Elpida. One might say that doesn’t sound Irish at all. And it isn’t at all. “Elpida” comes from the Greek and literally means “hope”. Older locals tell the legend of the town’s name when they get together in the pub in the evening for a drink or two. And here’s what it is:
Once, long ago, in the days when the gods of Olympus and their children walked the earth, Pandora opened the box entrusted to her out of curiosity, and from its depths were born the most fearsome creatures – godless horned demons, fiery iffrites and colossal beasts with hundreds of mouths and a hundred times as many razor-sharp teeth.
All of them flew around the world with the intention of destroying it. Pandora hurried to close the box, but too late. All the freaks were on the loose. But there was still someone left at the bottom. After pleading with Pandora, the girl set free the only noble spirit in the box, Hope, or as the ancient Greeks called her, Elpida. Elpida descended upon the world and began a fierce battle with the evil creatures, slaughtering them on the spot or imprisoning them forever in prisons as big as a pinhead and as vast as the entire world at once. In the end, only one demon, the greatest bogeyman, remained.
He had come to wreak havoc and destruction on the island of Ireland, whose name from those days is not remembered today. And so, in one final battle, Hope faced the terrifying demon and defeated him right here, on the very spot that is now the city that bears her name, Elpida.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen a lot and I’m smarter than to dismiss the existence of demons and other creepy creatures, but this story is ridiculous. Everyone knows the myth of Pandora and that it is a metaphor for where all the troubles in people’s lives come from and how there is always a glimmer of hope no matter how bleak our situation seems. But this “legend” paraphrases the original, turning it into nothing more than a story that was created to attract tourists to this boring place.
And it is because it is boring and nothing happens here that I arrived in Elpida three years ago and settled down. I started working as a photographer for the local newspaper and met the most gorgeous girl I had ever met, Lily. We had been together for two years when that night came…
* * *
I began frantically dialing Lily’s phone. Over and over again, without success. I was going to be sick with worry. What had happened? I quickly dialed the police. I reported what had happened and where Lily was walking when the connection broke. I immediately took a cab and headed that way. By the time I got there, two police cars had surrounded the underpass. There was no sign of her. It was already dark and a dim lamp was flashing in the underpass. The police searched everything thoroughly. Nothing. They sent me on my way.
The next few days were real torture. A check of the only security camera nearby (why weren’t we in London…) showed footage of Lily just entering the underpass. The next movement shown on camera was only after 20 minutes when the two police cars arrived. We were all dumbfounded.
Suddenly, even though it was a clear day, there was a loud clap of thunder from the hill above the city. And then I remembered what had happened.
The police did everything they could over the next week. There were no clues – Lily was missing. There was nothing more they could do about it. The case remained open, but the inspectors stopped actively pursuing it.
However, that was exactly what I was thinking of doing.
I now knew for certain how Lily had been kidnapped. The only possible way of her disappearance was by magic. And when it came to magic, I cringed.
But I had no choice. I had to try to save Lily if there was still hope. And so, for all my distaste for magical powers and practices, I came to the conclusion that the only way to fight magic was with magic. And since I had extensive experience with it (albeit bad), I knew where to start.
* * *
As I told you, my great-grandfather has two books in which he describes the adventures of a young girl in a fantasy world. I’m not going to tell you which ones they are because I don’t want you to read them and think how wonderful that place is and how nice it would be for everyone to be able to experience such an adventure. It isn’t. This world is one of the nastiest I’ve ever been to (it was ten years ago, but that’s another story). The question now was another.
My great-grandfather’s novels were not fiction at all. There was this girl who was in the two worlds of madness and insanity described in the books so enticingly and engagingly. Well done to my great grandfather.
Why am I telling you all this? Because I intended to summon help for my quest from there, from the World Beyond the Mirror.
I rummaged through the closet at home. In an old chest full of dusty books, I found my great-grandfather’s very first drafts of his novels, in which he had not yet veiled the truth well enough to make it appealing to the reader. In a small tattered notebook I found what I was looking for. I shuddered at the thought of what I was about to do. In the notebook it said:
“…and you can do it. All you have to do is say the spell and the Red Queen’s warrior will now serve only you, not her.“
“And what is it, Mr. Hatter?” she asked in a curious voice.
“Listen carefully, dear child. Here are the words:
Nasmey zari dumbfounded,
Come to me, you brave warrior,
Before I smelt here the praga,
Come to me to war!”
I shook my head. Real madness. That’s how things work out there in that damned world, and now I was about to summon a Red Queen warrior here in my little apartment. I read the incantation. The large mirror in the hallway suddenly shattered into countless pieces with a deafening crash. Then the pieces coalesced into one huge figure that towered two heads above me. A chess piece. A giant chess piece, of no use to anyone. It was an officer, with the distinctive indentation at the top and a marble at the very top.
Yes, apparently the Queen’s warriors, chess pieces brought to life, were like that only in their home world. Summoned to Earth, they turned into a piece of metal.
With difficulty, I pushed the officer to the corner of the room. It would have made a good coat rack.
* * *
My failure with the chess warrior did not discourage me. I prepared another summoning and this time I would succeed.
About a year and a half ago, Lily and I had decided to go to the coast of the island to admire the crashing waters and the blue-grey Irish Sea, and also to have a picnic. We had finished eating and Lily decided to take a nap on the blanket. I, however, didn’t feel like napping and got up to walk to the nearby shore where we had a narrow strip of beach. As I walked along the sand, the tide suddenly dumped a glass bottle at my feet.
At first glance – rubbish carried by the sea. But the bottle made an impression on me with the piece of paper it contained. Rolled up into a small roll, Arabic words were written on it. I took the bottle. I already had a bad feeling. It was covered with a cork on which was painted a strange symbol, a star with six points, with a dot between each.
My fears were justified. It was a magical object. What exactly, I wasn’t sure, but I put the bottle away and, while Lily slept, placed it in the basket with the empty dishes from the picnic. When we got back to Elpida, I managed to sneak the mysterious bottle out and took it back to my place.
I immediately searched the internet for what the six-pointed star might mean. The search engine found a picture exactly resembling what was painted on the stopper and redirected me to the Seal of Solomon page on Wikipedia.
There I learned that with this seal, the wise King Solomon captured djinn and demons. Considering the Arabic writing on the leaf, it was clear to me that it was a spirit of some sort that was imprisoned inside, and only the writing on the stopper held it captive. How the bottle had reached Irish shores was unclear to me, but I knew I had to get rid of it. So I buried it in the ground in a park not far from where I lived.
And today I had decided to go summon the gin from the bottle. An hour after sunset I set out with a shovel and a lantern and looked for the tree whose roots I had buried it in. It was a crooked oak with a huge crown, which I saw after a few minutes. I started digging, having to make several holes as I didn’t remember the exact spot.
Finally, after about ten minutes, the shovel hit something. There was the sound of breaking glass. I shuddered. Where was my mind to be in such a hurry? I had broken the bottle. As I looked to make sure, smoke belched from the ground and sparks flew. A large bare head appeared, with pointed ears, a big nose and a mouth full of sharp teeth and curved in a satisfied smile.
Then the genie’s torso emerged, and its lower half remained shrouded in smoke.
There was a guttural laugh and the ground shook.
The genie was on the loose, and I hadn’t read its name off the page and couldn’t control it. I was doomed…
The evil spirit towered over me and spoke in its thick voice:
“I have been imprisoned here for five thousand years, and now I am free at last! And now you are going to die, you worthless man!”
I shrank from fear. It was a big mistake that I hadn’t written down the name of the genie back when I found the bottle. It was written on the folded piece of paper inside, and whoever said it could control the demon after it was released. I thought about translating the inscription at home after taking the bottle out, but alas. The leaf was at my feet, but I couldn’t read it.
The genie roared and descended on me. Smoke and flames enveloped me and I began to choke. Then it was as if glowing needles began to stick into my feet, thighs and arms. Just before I passed out from the torment of the evil genie, I heard a deafening flash. The smoke then swirled in the direction of the forest den, and the genie took on a horrified expression.
“What did you do, what did you do to me?” the genie screamed, “Stop and I will serve you! Please, master!”
I had done nothing. Some invisible force seemed to be sucking the spirit away. Finally all that was left of him was a mournful cry into the night. I closed my eyes and sank into darkness.
* * *
I woke up in the morning when a squirrel walked past me and stroked me with its fluffy tail. I thought I was having a strange dream until I saw the broken bottle, the shovel and the extinguished lantern beside me. A morning jogger passed by me. He stopped and helped me to my feet.
“Rough night, huh? I think you’ve had too much bottle?” he asked jokingly.
“Yeah, something like that,” I told him and he walked past.
When I recovered, I went back inside and took a shower. While I was in the shower, however, a thought kept crossing my mind. What had captured the genie? What force was so powerful to do that?
Clearly I was dealing with something very serious, but I had no intention of giving up. I gathered some baggage. I went out, made some preparations and within a few hours I was on a plane from Belfast airport.
I was going back to London.
* * *
London. How well I knew the city. I knew the parts that weren’t on the map and that ordinary people didn’t suspect. I was going to the one I had fled three years ago. Fate loves to ironize us.
I didn’t want to linger unnecessarily, so as soon as I got off at the airport, I headed straight to my first destination – Sutherke in central London. Arriving in Sutherke today, one thing immediately strikes one – the tallest skyscraper in the UK – the Shard, a tower that cuts through the London heights like a glass needle.
This year the building gained great popularity with its opening to the public. Or at least the above-ground part of it. Because I knew that although the tower was billed as the UK’s most modern and innovative building, it was actually a ship between dimensions, having arrived on Earth in 2009, while I was still living in the city. Once this vessel was here, construction began on the above ground portion to provide better cover for the activities unfolding below the surface.
Had I known that the people in possession of the Shard were malevolent, I would have been afraid to stay not only in London but on the planet. And here I deliberately call them humans rather than beings or creatures, because the occupants of the spaceship were travellers from a different dimension, a parallel universe in which humans had reached their full potential since the time of Ancient Egypt and created a super-civilization. If you look at the Shard today and it looks like a pyramid, well… it’s no accident.
And what are these people doing here? The problem with advanced civilizations is that they are becoming more and more ambitious. People from that parallel universe reached such a high technological level that they managed to understand the very foundations of the universe and correct the basic “code” of creation.
However, as a result of a small spelling mistake, the code got stuck, and something mind-boggling happened – time started repeating itself, and billions of versions of the same objects and people started existing simultaneously in the same place. Only a team of young scientists, who had become aware of the potential error before it happened, managed to open a dimensional door and arrive in London. From there, they continued their activities and very rarely showed themselves in the light of day among the rest of the people.
How do I know all this? Well… one of the young female scientists working on the ship had gone out for a night out at the pub on the evening that I happened to be there. We’d met, had a few drinks, and… I guess you know what happened next, but she decided to tell me about herself afterwards. Maybe she thought I wouldn’t believe her and that I would consider her story fiction. I believed her. I did not seek her out again.
Now, however, our familiarity was proving to be an advantage, for as I entered the lobby of the Shard and walked to a service elevator that everyone was passing, I whispered “Epsilon” and the door opened. The elevator slid down. It was at least 5 minutes before the elevator stopped and I entered a huge room with dozens of people moving back and forth and just as many terminals scattered seemingly haphazardly around the room. No one paid any attention to me. If anyone came down, they knew the code and were one of them.
I went to a nearby terminal. It was a circle of light floating in the air. My local acquaintance had mentioned omniscient terminals that peered into the universal matrix and drew knowledge directly from it. I spoke:
“I want information.”
The circle spiraled and faded. I continued:
Suddenly the circle turned into a sphere. Figures appeared in the castle. They were creatures with slaves, but not necessarily humans. Horns were coming out from under the hood of one of them. And the other two were bringing with them… Lily!
My heart started beating fast. The sphere blinked and showed me a view of the entire castle and its other magical inhabitants – all in all a dozen people. The picture began to pan up the hill above the castle. I didn’t wait to see, I already knew what I needed. Lily was in the old Elpid castle and that was where I needed to go to save her.
Before that, though, I needed someone to fight for me.
* * *
“Show me everything you know about the magical phenomena in Elpida over the last few weeks.”
The light suddenly dimmed, then reappeared. It showed me the old castle, which I knew was over the hill at the edge of town. There was no one there.
From London Bridge to the Shard, I caught the north line of the Underground and made it to Angel station in ten minutes. Here came the hard part. I stood in place on the platform and turned around a few times, only to get dizzy and disoriented. Then I walked off in an indeterminate direction, looking only at my feet so I didn’t know where I was going. So, after a few more minutes, I started down a dark staircase, and when I finally looked up, a blue sign announced “Mab and Titania Metro Station.” The only way to get here is to get lost.
Don’t think my only visit to the creepy subway station was at twelve. As a kid, my curiosity often got the better of me and I went down several times. I had discovered that it was easiest to “find” the station by starting at the Angel.
The train came. I waited for the usual crowd of “people” with briefcases and suits to disembark and climbed into the car. I found an empty seat and sat down. Across from me was a guy with a pig’s head eating chips. Next to him, a knight in shining armor pointed to the sign “Please do not eat on the train”.
The pig-headed man put down his chips with a disappointed expression. At the next station, a small scorpion crawled into the carriage and climbed into the seat next to me. I looked at him. He looked at me. The train kept moving. After a while, I felt a familiar shiver, a slight chill crawling over my body, and a vibration in the carriage. It occurred to me. Reality seemed to warp around the train and it stopped abruptly. We had reached the terminus, the Vdun Land Market.
* * *
Whether we were really in the Land of the Deep, I didn’t want to know, but the place certainly looked disgusting. It was dark and lit by dim torches here and there around the stalls and kiosks. The sooner I found what I needed, the sooner I could get out of here. I looked around.
There were all sorts of creatures about, from the most profane, like a ragged kobold selling vechtories, to the more respectable, like a Nephilim peddling angel-crafted fabrics. I, however, needed a gun shop. I wandered the makeshift streets of the huge market until I came across Wolff & Co, The Smart Gun Choice.
I walked into the store. It was a small building, but it seemed even more cramped inside because of the shelves crammed with all kinds of weapons. From swords and bows to modern pistols and flamethrowers, there was everything inside.
Silver bullets from the smallest to the largest caliber were lined up behind a glass case. As I looked around, the owner approached me, and by the look on his face, I assumed that it was Wolff. Hulking, with gray fur and a wolf snout, Wolff was a pureblood werewolf. He wore a Victorian outfit, a jacket with a waistcoat whose pocket held the gilded chain of a watch, and he had a top hat on his head.
“Welcome to my shop. What can I help you with?” asked Wolff, politely.
“Hello,” I replied dryly, “I’m looking for a weapon.”
“You’re in the right place. What do you need?” Wolff looked me over from head to toe. “I have some great swords for people your size.”
“Look, to tell you the truth, I’m not very good with fighting, so I was thinking of one of your ‘smart’ weapons. Will you show them to me?”
“Sure, sure. But… they’re not for everyone. How much are you willing to pay?”
I pulled out two huge purses of gold coins and put them on the counter in the shop. There was a very angry leprechaun in Elpida at the moment…
“Well?”
“Come to the back store, please.”
Wolff opened the door and ushered me into a special room dedicated to the “smart” weapons he offered. These were seemingly ordinary swords, shields, and the like, but they had the ability to fight on their own or defend their owner without him having to care about it.
Some were simply enchanted. Others were possessed by demons, and others even had a soul. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I had a feeling the weapons were watching me.
The werewolf began to show me his collection – a sword that knew seven fighting techniques, a crossbow that always shot right on target, and various others. I honestly didn’t know what I needed. I had never touched a weapon, and now I was about to buy one with a soul…
We passed a beautiful gold bracelet.
“What is that?” I asked.
“Is that it? I was going to miss it. It’s a lun de yenlei, the Dragon of Tears. An extremely powerful artifact. Long ago, when a Chinese dragon that had reached over five thousand years of age passed away, a powerful magician managed to weave a piece of the creature’s departed soul into its bracelet. It put at its owner’s disposal a mighty power, summoning the spirit of the dragon when it was needed.
“I want to take it,” I said, without giving it much thought.
“I’m afraid the bracelet is rather more expensive than the two purses of gold…”
I pulled out a third pouch, even fuller than the previous two, and handed it to him. Wolff grinned his wolfish grin and handed me the bracelet. I put it on.
“And how do I summon the dragon?”
“Don’t worry, he knows when blood will be shed.”
At the word “blood,” the bracelet glowed slightly, then froze again into a simple gold ornament.
I was ready now.
* * *
The next morning, I arrived in Elpida. The city seemed peaceful. I took a taxi and asked the driver to drop me off on the outskirts of town, near the hill. The old castle was on the other side. I didn’t feel particularly prepared to face the evil creatures, but I had no time to waste anymore. I knew Lily was there and I had to help her somehow.
After about ten minutes I caught a glimpse of the castle – old ruins left over from the Middle Ages. It wasn’t anything impressive, but it was perfect for a haunt of magical creatures, because people very rarely came here, knowing that the walls could collapse at any moment.
I approached the castle. I expected there to be some protection, and I was right. Two hooded warriors emerged from the shadows. Nothing was visible from under their hoods. A shiver of fear ran through my body. I had trusted my life to a gold bracelet. Most likely nothing would happen and these two would kill me.
Before I could finish my thought, the bracelet on my arm heated up, and from it, with a whistle, emerged the pale silhouette of a Chinese dragon, as big as a large dog, hovering over my wrist. The dragon swooped down and bit off the head of one of the mysterious warriors in a flash.
It flung it aside, and as the other swung a massive sword at it, the dragon’s spirit flowed into the body of the guard, which in a second broke into countless pieces that flew around me. As it retracted, I noticed tears streaming down the dragon’s translucent head.
I was impressed by the power of the spirit. I walked more confidently towards the castle and passed through the gates unmolested.
A group of the creatures had gathered on one side of the courtyard, as if performing some sort of ritual. They did not notice me. I looked on the other side. And there I saw Lily. She was tied to some metal structure. Three of the chained warriors were guarding her.
“Lily!” I shouted.
She didn’t answer me. She was unconscious. The warriors turned to me. A hoarse voice came from across the courtyard:
“Kill him! No one must stand in our way!”
Five men started toward me. One of them was the horned creature I had seen through the terminal in the Shard. He carried a staff with strange curves at the tip, on which sparks crackled. He pointed it at me and shot out a whirlwind of fire. The dragon came out of the bracelet and caught the fireball with its mouth. Then it swallowed it. He seemed to enjoy it.
The Dragon of Tears then shot forward and began to sow death among the attackers. Two of them fell before they could react, and the horned one writhed and writhed in pain as the spirit sapped its life energy. The other two also became easy prey.
After the brief skirmish, I hurried over to Lily. She was still unconscious, but I freed her from the restraints and laid her down on the ground while I dealt with the other creatures. I no longer had any doubts about my dragon’s powers. I turned to them. But it was too late. Their ritual was over.
Small bubbles of light began to form in the air, heading towards Lily. By the time I realized what was happening, bright beams were already streaming towards her, as if she was somehow attracting them. What was going on? What had these freaks done to her? I didn’t know whether to head towards them or help her. But how?
Suddenly the light stopped shining. Lily opened her eyes. I leaned over her.
“Michael? What’s going on?” She was confused and sounded exhausted.
“Relax, Lily, it’s over.”
I hugged her and kissed her forehead. Whatever had happened didn’t seem to have hurt her. I calmed down.
And then the scariest sound I’d ever heard was heard. A terrifying growl, as if coming from the depths of the earth, mixed with the rumble of crashing rocks. The ground above the castle began to shake, and from it rose the demon.
It was huge, towering at least ten meters above the fortress, but that was not the most impressive thing about it. What made me numb was that the creature had at least a hundred arms and as many heads.
“Elpida is finally captivated! At last I am free!” and then he laughed – a maddening sound coming from a hundred mouths at once.
Did you say Elpida ? Was the legend true, and was this the demon defeated by Hope thousands of years ago? I didn’t have much time to think about it.
The dragon came out of my bracelet. It wriggled and stepped toward the hundred-headed demon. It was literally sucked in by the bogeyman. Like what had happened to the genie in the forest two days ago.
I looked at Elpida. The sun was setting. The town was bathed in a golden glare, and one by one the street lamps were lighting up. The streets were filled with the clamor of dozens of people coming home from work or going outside to cheer themselves up. There was a pleasant evening atmosphere in Elpida. And this time I insisted on sending Lily to her home.
Plamen V. is an award-winning freelance writer/poet with published works online and in a dozen US and UK literary magazines. He has been writing since he was 10. He has won numerous writing contests and awards from different parts of the world.
Plamen is a creative person with big dreams who loves to help people. He also has Certificates on Creative Writing from the UK writing centre, from the Open University in Scotland, Oxford Study Centre, Eduta.com/Novel Writing course, and from Harvard University.
Mountain Jay Books 