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APPROX 48,000 WORDS - AGE GROUP 9 - 13 YEARS.

BASED ON LOCAL MYTHS, RUMOURS AND HISTORY FROM NORTH WALES.

It all began as an innocent adventure, a challenge to explore the cellars of a row of terraced houses, when three intrepid children -- known as the Trio Theo -- enter small connecting doors situated in the walls of the basements.

Fantasy and mischief turn into an experience of fear and terror as the three children find themselves confronting the horrors of the past, through their efforts to release the ghost children, alone and trapped for eternity by the evil power of, 'the man in black'.

Their first encounter with the supernatural is when they emerge from the cellars to the caves and hovels under the street and discover the wartime ghost orphans, who warn the trio of the perils of the faraway land and its occupants. The trio are drawn into the horrors of past centuries by their curiosity, and belief that they can, somehow, alter the course of history in a minor way, but they are accompanied throughout their travels back in time by the wrath of Jess… Jess, the evil spirit, the sister of the 'man in black' but also the handmaiden of the Devil.

PROLOGUE

A shiver creeps down my spine, even now, as I think back to that first summer in our new home. But I would never wish that those adventures had not happened to my sisters and me because we had wicked fun, as well as scary, spooky, mind-bending escapades!

I'm Seb - full name Sebastian Theobold. Why do parents have a habit of choosing names that make you cringe? I forbid anyone, except of course adults such as teachers, to use my full name… urgh! The same applies to my twin sisters, wait for it… Elspeth and Phoebe Theobold. Can you believe it? Elle and Phe to you and me.

Until that summer, life for our family had been fairly typical, except for having identical twins, which allowed us children to confuse, to say the least, most outsiders and even sometimes our parents, by Elle and Phe swapping identities, amongst many other tricks, as you can imagine. One other thing we were famous for was our love of hats, cool, Bugsy Malone style hats -- sad, or what?

Amongst our friends and family we were known as the Trio Theo.

I will now cast back my memory to that first, fateful day when we moved into our new home and were totally unaware of what was in store for us. It was an end house at the beginning of a row of terraced houses, each one joined to the next down the row.

On second thoughts... I'm just thinking... I should go further back in my memory, to a time, about a year before moving house, when a visit to our Grandmother didn't seem to be very significant; or the tale she told, quite feasible. But in retrospect, what happened became hugely important in the future adventures I shared with my sisters.

Here goes.

Our Grandmother is Welsh, our 'Nain' as she is called in Cymraeg - that's the Welsh language - but she moved to London when she married Granddad - Taid' in Welsh. She now lives close to us in the north of England so we can keep an eye on her, since Granddad died.

She often goes back to her beloved Wales to see her friends in the village where she was born, and one of our favourite things is to sit by her fire with her and listen to the latest tales and gossip she brings when she returns. Our 'Nain' paints such a vivid picture of life in her village that we feel we know everyone and everything about them.

A year before we moved into our new house we went to our Grandmother's to stay with her after her rather long visit to her old neighbours, Biyn and Bethan, who have a farm bordering the village. She told us that the reason she had stayed so long was because they had recently had a very, very disturbing, frightening, ghostly experience. We were shocked and riveted.

"What Nain? Tell us!" We settled by the fire to hear her tale, Nain in her favourite armchair and us children sitting on the fireside rug. Then Nain stood up and started fussing about eating first, before any story telling.

"But Gran, you can't tempt us with a tale of a frightening, ghostly doings and then go off to make tea! Come on - tell us." I demanded.

"Well, I'm worried I should have kept this to myself... I know how easily children let their imaginations run away with them, only to end in nightmares!" Nain replied, feeling guilty.

"Nain," I persisted, "we read the most scary books we can find and watch all sorts of horror movies, even ones which frighten Dad, though he'll never admit that, so don't be worried. We'll be fine."

"Oh, very well then, if you're all sure. "Bryn and Bethan set off one day to drive to the town to go to the supermarket, and as they were driving along the main road Bethan said, 'Bryn, I can hear horses... galloping along.., honestly, it's horses.'

'Oh, yes dear, horses do usually gallop along a main road - I don't think,' replied Bryn.

'Bryn, I tell you, horses are galloping along the road.' Bethan was getting agitated. ' Can't you hear anything?'

"As Bethan spoke those words the noise became louder and louder, on and on, clatter, clatter, pounding, thundering, booming into their ears!

"Just then a group of horses and their riders came right up to them, alongside the car, going in the same direction; first blocking the light, then spreading round the whole of the vehicle, engulfing them, smothering them as if the metal object they were travelling in could be crumpled in a second by the power and strength of the massive horses.

"The riders were dressed as knights from the Middle Ages, armoured warriors trained to fight on horseback. Secure in their high-backed saddles, carrying kite-shaped shields, they brandished their swords. But the most shocking thing of all was when each of them turned at exactly the same moment and peered into the car, staring, through their open-faced iron helmets, at Bryn and Bethan with the most icy, empty glare, straight into their eyes.

"Bryn and Bethan were gasping for air, their hearts pounding and their bodies shaking with fear as Bryn clung onto the wheel, and Bethan grasped the door, desperately holding on for dear life.

"They were petrified; cold shivers running through their bodies. Fear seemed to paralyse them like a clamp, making them powerless to escape from the horrifying ghost images pressing onto the car windows...