I find storytelling to be a wonderful and immersive way to learn, understand and remember homeopathic remedies. I have written the following stories based on the remedies mentioned to bring them to life. I hope you enjoy them.
Sepia - a worn out mom
Sophia looked in the mirror. Who was that woman staring back?
REVIVE – A Homeopathic Novel
A PAGE-TURNING ADVENTURE WITH TWISTS AND TURNS
Five star reviews from Amazon.com
“Couldn’t Put It Down! Loved this book! So exciting from start to finish!”
“Awesome. It is well written and has a good story behind it. I could not put it down”
“Great fiction that actually sneaks in many homeopathic principals”
“Thrilling adventure and great characters – a surprise around every corner”
“Insightful, Clever, Lots of Fun, and a Great Intro to Homeopathy”
Immerse yourself in this first of a kind, epic quest, with twists and turns. Journey with Sheysu as she is pulled into a maze of emotions and deadly battles across hostile kingdoms, to find a cure for her dying sister. Learn about homeopathy and remedies as the characters and kingdoms bring them to life in a way that is unforgettable. If you love homeopathy, you’ll love reading this.
Revive is a fantasy action/adventure novel where the characters are based on homeopathic remedies. No prior knowledge of homeopathy is needed. Homeopaths and non-homeopaths alike, can read it. I have tried to stay as true to materia medica and used specific rubrics, gestures and words to bring the remedies and kingdoms to life. If you would like to know more about how I wrote Revive, click here
It is available on Amazon and has many 5 star reviews.
For other countries search in Amazon for your country.
A Day in the Life of Nux-Vomica
The following is an assignment I wrote way back in homeopathic college in the 90’s. I found that storytelling is such an immersive and great way to understand and remember remedies. This inspired me to write my homeopathic novel, ‘Revive’, where the characters are based on homeopathic remedies.
Dave, a successful businessman, finds his sleep breaks every morning at 3am. His thoughts fill with a to-do list for the projects he is working on. The thoughts persist and eventually at 6am
he falls back into a deep sleep, only to be rudely woken by his alarm at 7am. He feels absolutely wretched and desperately wants to go back to sleep, but the thought of all he has to do at work, drives him out of bed. As he sits up, the cold draft hits him and he shivers as he reaches for his warm dressing gown.
Bleary-eyed he makes his way to the kitchen. Coffee, he must have a cup to wake up properly. He breathes in the rich nutty aroma and lights up his first cigarette of the day. Now, his mind is beginning to clear. He glances at the clock on the wall, and hurries to the bathroom, only to be frustrated as constipation is a habitual problem for him and he struggles and strains.
Looking the part is important to Dave and he grooms himself meticulously. Standing in front of his wardrobe, he surveys his suits and shirts which are all pressed and hung neatly in a row. He reaches for a shirt and while putting it on, he snags one of the buttons and impatiently pulls so hard the shirt tears. He swears and rips off the offending button and reaches for another shirt. He eventually leaves home looking impeccable.
His journey to work is full of irritations. Dave is in a hurry and the ticket machines at the train station are not working. The ticket seller is taking too long, and Dave thinks his method for dealing with customers is so inefficient. If he had time he would tell him how to work smarter and faster. On the way down to the platform, everyone in front is walking too slowly, so he pushes past them without so much as an apology.
As usual Dave is one of the first people at the office. Many have called him a workaholic, but as far as he is concerned, there’s work to do and he’s there to do it, no matter what it takes. While looking through his mail for the day, he gulps down some more black coffee, and eats a sticky bun for breakfast. He is extremely efficient and pragmatic in his work, and is much admired by his bosses. So much so, that his manager comes over to ask him if he would like to take on a project that is much sought after in the department. Seeing this as an opportunity to get ahead, Dave promptly says yes, even though he knows he already works ten hours a day to keep up with his current workload.
At his morning meeting, a colleague suggests an alternative to one of Dave’s ideas. Dave instantly knows it won’t work, and voices his opinion very loudly, pushing his own suggestion so strongly, that his colleague backs down, and the group go ahead with Dave’s idea. They move on to talk about photo ideas for billboard advertising. Dave bows out at this point, artistic pursuits are not his strong point – he likes to deal with facts.
On his way back to his desk, Dave makes another strong coffee and takes it outside to have a cigarette. He feels on edge and has another cigarette to try and relax. Back in his office one of his team approaches him with a completed document to review. Dave looks through it and instantly sees many errors. In addition he doesn’t like the style of the writing and knows he could have done it much better. While he is reading, the staff member starts tapping the desk with her pencil. Dave finds this incredibly irritating and snaps at her to stop. When he has finished reading, he doesn’t hold back in criticising her work and tells her exactly how to change it.
At lunch Dave is drawn to the spicy aroma of the chicken curry on offer in the canteen and picks up a can of lager to drink with it. He needs something to help him relax after a stressful morning. After eating quickly, he meets a few colleagues down at the local pub for a quick drink. A couple of more beers will help him deal with a busy afternoon.
Back in the office, the food and drink sits heavily in Dave’s stomach and his abdomen is bloated. If only he could burp or break wind he would feel much better, but he just can’t. He tries to concentrate but his eyes are heavy and he has to read the same paragraph several times before it makes sense. Later that afternoon his concentration improves and once again he becomes heavily engrossed with the business of the day.
Dave is one of the last workers to leave the office. Even though he has left work, he cannot stop thinking of what has happened that day. Funnily enough he doesn’t think of the major events of the day such as the new project he has been given, but instead he focuses on small things like a forgotten telephone call.
At home his girlfriend has come over and he greets her in a distracted way, his mind still dwelling on work. They order a takeaway. Dave chooses another spicy meal and decides to have a rich dessert. They open a bottle of wine to have with their meal. He’s still thinking about work, and whenever his girlfriend brings him out of his reverie, he gets irritable and snaps at her. After dinner, he drinks more wine and smokes a joint to relax. Again, he feels incredibly uncomfortable and loosens his belt to help. He settles down to watch a film he’s been waiting to see, but within a few minutes sleepiness overpowers him. Eventually, much later, he wakes up still in front of the television. His girlfriend has already gone to bed. Dave feels wide awake now, and once again thoughts of the office start running through his mind. He finds it difficult to get to sleep and decides to have a nightcap of brandy to help him relax. It doesn’t work. After tossing and turning he eventually does fall asleep, it is a fitful sleep which he knows will be broken once again at 3am the next morning.
A Difficult Night for Arsenicum Album
Arsenio’s eyes flung open with a start and he turned to look at the clock on his nightstand. It was midnight. What was that loud thud?
Was it in his dream or could it be a burglar? His heart raced in his chest. Did he remember to lock the front door? He held his breath so that he could listen, but all he could hear was the pounding of his heart. Should he go down to investigate? Normally his brother was around, but he had left earlier on a business trip. Arsenio didn’t like to admit it, but he was always more anxious when his brother wasn’t at home. The irony was, he hardly talked to his brother, but just his presence calmed him.
There was no chance of sleeping now, so he jumped out of bed wrapping a blanket around his shoulders like a cape. Arsenio definitely didn’t feel like a superhero. The thought of going downstairs was overwhelming, so instead he locked his bedroom door and paced the floor, still chilly despite the blanket. He stopped to listen again, and sighed in relief as all was silent. To make sure, he pushed the curtain aside to look out. Everything was quiet, the pale glow of the street lamps revealed nothing unusual.
His heart, however, was still pounding. Is this how a heart attack starts? He had seen a doctor a few months ago about his heart, as occasionally he suffered from palpitations, especially when he was worried. The doctor had assured him that it was just anxiety, but Arsenio wasn’t convinced. Instead, he called a medical helpline and they too said the same thing. Arsenio still felt they had missed something, so he had booked to see a private consultant in a few weeks. He hated spending the money, but what if there was something seriously wrong.
Finally, his heart started to calm down, but now he had a burning feeling in his stomach. He could almost feel the acid in his throat. This wasn’t the first time he had experienced this. His thoughts returned to a few weeks earlier, when the burning had been like hot coals. It was agony and he really panicked, almost visiting the ER. Eventually, his brother managed to reassure him, figuring it to be a reaction to some old ice-cream he had eaten. Arsenio didn’t even really like cold food but a friend had bought him some ice-cream ages ago and while clearing his freezer he hadn’t wanted to waste it. That had been an awful night with the burning turning into several bouts of exhausting diarrhoea.
Maybe a warm drink would settle his stomach. Furtively, he made his way down to the kitchen, relieved that all was still and quiet. He switched on the kitchen light and his eyes were immediately drawn to the dirty cup and plate left on the worktop. Why couldn’t his brother clean up after himself? As he washed and dried the dishes, he thought of how his brother always teased him about his tidiness. Arsenio couldn’t understand why everyone wasn’t as orderly as him. He opened the cupboard to put the cup and plate back. Everything was organised efficiently, rows upon rows of crockery, some almost as old as he was. He hated throwing out anything that was still useful.
With a warm drink in his hand, he made his way back up to bed. He took sips of the warm liquid and felt it soothe his throat and stomach. His eyes were beginning to feel heavy and he glanced at the clock. It was three am. As he drifted off to sleep, it occurred to him that nothing dangerous had actually happened that night, and he had just spent hours worrying for no reason.
Natrum Muriaticum - It's hard to let go
Norma looked at her watch. Her heart sank and she let out a heavy sigh, realising that waiting any longer was futile.
Now, she was also desperate for a pee. There was a sign for public restrooms nearby, but she walked hastily in the opposite direction. She always struggled using them, hating that other people were around. No, she would wait till she got home.
The sun shone brightly in her face, and she squinted wishing she’d brought her sunglasses. Everybody loves the sunshine, but for her it meant a thumping headache later on. This was turning out to be one of those worst days. How could he do this to her once more? Last time she swore never to put herself in this position again, yet here she was. He finally said he was leaving his wife and they would take a trip together to plan their future. She turned to look back and caught a glimpse of the train leaving without her, but taking with it, her unfulfilled promises and dreams. Norma’s shoulders slumped in defeat and she painted a sad lonely figure, walking up the hill towards her apartment.
Her heart jumped, as she was startled out of her reverie by her phone’s trill ring. She fumbled to retrieve it, but it wasn’t him, just her friend, Sophia, probably having another crisis with one of her kids. Ordinarily, Norma would always listen and try to help. Somehow, she had become the leaning shoulder to a few people. Ironic really, since she never discussed her own problems, preferring to solve them herself, apart from that one time when she got so drunk and told everyone. Her friends had been shocked, as she was regarded as the ‘serious’ one. Today, however, she had her own problems and switched off her phone, not in the mood to talk to anyone.
Back in her apartment, Norma ran to use the bathroom, then slipped off her shoes and placed them in the only gap amongst the neat row of footwear lining the hallway. In the kitchen she poured herself a tall glass of water from the fridge and emptied a large packet of salty crisps into a bowl, adding a few more sprinkles of salt for good measure. She settled onto the sofa and grabbed her ipad. Soon the air filled with poignant chords and lyrics from her ‘sad love songs’ playlist. She closed her eyes, the words and notes touching her very core. Why did it have to end like this? This morning her heart had been full of hope, looking forward to a new life. But now, once again, she was left to live alone in her small but perfect flat. The disappointment was all too familiar. On her ipad, she couldn’t help looking through the photos and videos of the many happy times they spent together. It was like rubbing salt in the wounds and Norma wanted to cry, but the tears just wouldn’t come.
As she continued scrolling down the photo albums, her gaze was drawn to one labelled ‘dad’ and she clicked it open. Her breath caught in her throat, as a photo of her dad smiling and standing beside her, aged thirteen, filled the screen. It was the last photo she had with him. He died suddenly a month later and she felt part of her left with him. Afterwards, she remembered family members whispering, ‘Why isn’t she crying?’, always trying to pat or hug her whilst she pulled away, desperate to be on her own. Her bedroom became her haven, and apart from school, she spent her waking hours there, reading and thinking, content in her own company. Her sleep had started to deteriorate then, with many hours spent lying awake thinking about what could have been and everything that had gone wrong. Even now, she did the same.
The next few photos were of their last family holiday to Greece. The sea looked so inviting and she felt an overwhelming urge to walk on the beach with the sound of the waves lapping her feet while breathing in the salty air. Maybe a holiday by the beach was just what she needed. But first, she had some unfinished business. She switched on her phone and sent him one last text, ‘Don’t call me. It’s over!’ With that, she deleted his details and blocked his number. This time she was serious.