J A Bowler

@jabowler.bsky.social

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UK based writer of children's and YA fiction and educational content. #Writing #WritingCommunity #amwriting #YA #IceCooperAndTheDeptonShadelings #TheImprobableAdventuresOfDexterDuckworth #Fiction #CliFi #ChildrensBooks www.jabowler.co.uk

A shift in the cadence of the wind drew Ice to a halt, straining to catch the change. Joe stopped beside her, squinting into the gloom. Eerie new notes overlaid the background drone of air moving unimpeded across the open ground. Both stared, tense with apprehension, torch beams converging. Ice held her breath. Mere feet from where they stood, a huge shape loomed out of the swirling snow. “Wo! What?” Joe expressed his surprise briefly before approaching and laying one gloved hand on the granite surface, shining his torch upwards as it towered above him. “We nearly collided with this big boy!” Ice made no comment. She ran her fingertips along the hard edge of the monolith and peered into the shadows. Its companions were there, just beyond the beams of their torches, each one still standing sentry after thousands of years.
The panther ahead of Ice quickened its pace suddenly and sprinted beyond the tree which had eclipsed everything downstream. Ice was not so fast. Stopped in her tracks by the size and intensity of the flames, she froze, heart pounding in her chest. She needed time to gather her wits, crouching down to drench herself in water – a meagre defence against the radiant heat scorching her skin – and then she began to move across the river, to the other bank, where she would follow in the panther’s footsteps to make a run for it. But it was too late. The combined assault of the floods and the drought and now the fire had wrought its worst on the old tree. Ice ducked instinctively and covered her head as the great flaming trunk heaved over and came crashing down across the river in an explosion of sparks.
A person's hand can be seen holding a white book with the title Ice Cooper and the Depton Shadelings. The author's name is partly visible as J A Bowl... The image on the cover is a circle of black spiky branches framing a watercolour of a girl and a boxer dog walking towards some megalithic standing stones. Atop the branches is a black creature with a pointy face and ears and a green eye. A cute tan boxer dog with a white muzzle, white forehead strip, black eye patches and a black nose is taking the book in his mouth.
This is an animated book cover. The background is white. The title at the top says Ice Cooper and the Daughter of the Sea. The author's name at the bottom is J A Bowler. The book graphic is a circle of large beach stones framing a water colour image of 4 teens standing in thick snow, dressed for a winter expedition. One of them is seated on a sled like shape. They are looking away at a stone circle. A moon is visible through breaking clouds. Overlaid is a moving image of falling snow.
A girl is silhouetted standing on a bridge against a flooded countryside background. On the silhouette are the words Who Is Ice Cooper? The animation show labels around the figure, arriving in orange saying 'female MC', 'empathetic', 'reserved', 'uniquely perceptive', 'observant'
same frame as before but the top half shows a circle with three books standing upright. The are Ice cooper and the Depton Shadelings... and the Beast of Bale... and the Daughter of the Sea.
same frame as slide 1 but background is a woman in a brightly coloured shirt with images of pineapples. She is playing double bass on what looks like a stage at a festival.
Same frame as slide one but with background image of a fake fire in a stand alone fireplace in the corner of a lounge looking cosy. text says 3 fake fire
Same frame as slide one plus background image of a sulky looking boxer dog looking straight to camera. Text says 2 A rescue dog
Same frame as slide 1 but with a backdrop of a small group of african elephants standing by a water hole. Two adults and a juvenile and one baby. Text says 1 Elephants
a cream background with red and green line drawings of plants around the frame. Text says 5 things that gave me joy in 2025
The front cover of The improbable adventures of dexter duckworth, part 1: goblin earth by J A Bowler. It is a green background with silhoutte gnarly trees on both sides. In the forground is a cheeky mallard followed by a boy with a head torch emerging from a tunnel. Behind the tunnel is a smiling goblin girl with long red hair, an earring and a sharp stick.
A co2 monitor showing 2301 parts per million at 14:21 today.
A woman is standing looking to camera behind a table on which there are books. Other tables with books in the room books indicate that it is a book fair. She has a poster board showing a book series entitled 'Ice Cooper'. The woman is wearing a black T-shirt over a red top. She is also wearing a black FFP3 face mask
A woman with long hair, partly green, wearing a black ffp3 mask, is in a selfie next to a stand of her books and a poaster. These are the Ice Cooper series, The Improbable Adventures of Dexter Duckworth, and the Handy Booklet for Writing.
The three books in the Ice Cooper series. They are shown standing against a wasteland background. Each book has an illustration within circular frame: Ice Cooper and the Depton Shadeling has a frame of tangled branches on which sits a catlike creature with yellow eyes. Inside the frame a girl walks her boxer dog among standing stones in the rain; Ice Cooper and the Beast of Bale has a frame of starlings on which sits a black panther with orange eyes. Inside the frame two teens and a boxer dog are standing in a field. In the distance is a plume of smoke rising into the sky; Ice cooper and the Daughter of hte Sea has a frame of rounded rocks on which sits a girl with long hair. Inside the frame four teens are standing in deep snow. In the distance is a stone circle.
“Something like this, you mean?” he broke into her contemplation. She looked over slowly. Joe was gazing down at a huge book, open and resting on his knees as he sat cross-legged on the carpet. Ice did not see what he meant at first but then, lifting it carefully by the edges, he held up something that had been placed inside the book, but was not part of the book.
They were all gathered in the one room like there was a meeting she had missed. Oscar was leaning against the sink, his disgruntled expression confirmed by an indignant folding of arms. He had grown in the year since they had been here – his father’s genetic gift of tall stature beginning to show – but his tone now was unusually petulant and childish for her normally upbeat and insightful little brother. Ice had to remind herself that at eleven years old, he was still a young child.
Azmera nodded at Ice. In spite of the mask and the dull shabbiness of her camp clothes, the woman had striking looks, with clear, almost black eyes, high cheekbones and smooth, dark skin not yet ravaged by age. Her hair was immaculately braided into patterned rows across the scalp but free at the back in a froth of tight curls. She may have been far from the comforts of home, but she was maintaining standards and her dignity.
Ice felt a wave of nausea at the sight of the whitened carcasses of vehicles that had been left in driveways or by the side of the road. Somewhere not far from Bale, there would be another one just like these, its unfortunate driver surely turned to ash. Ice might so easily have been the other grim occupant had she not survived the crash that had killed poor Elena. Ice had not known anything about the woman who had run the depot and taken Ice in her car when the fires came, but she gave her a silent thought of gratitude.
Ice’s anticipation that her friend would lift her out of her mood was correct. Mia’s father had stayed to dinner and the two families, seated round the table for their simple meal, was like one of those old-fashioned scenes of conviviality. It was extraordinary how sharing food played into human social behaviour, forging bonds and fostering a sense of community. It was only Joe who was absent. He had not turned up for dinner at all, though Ice had no doubt he would return some time later and feed himself on whatever was left.
“Exactly,” Joe replied. “The water is bad. This water.” He pointed down at the seemingly inoffensive stream. And we don’t mean it is being polluted by the camp. People aren’t crapping in it or anything. They have proper toilets and a tank. It is coming in with something. On the other side they have a different source – they’re not using this. It was Tem who worked it out.” He put his arm around Temba in a proprietorial and congratulatory manner that made Ice wonder at how it had come about that they were suddenly best mates.
“We have no children here like your description and it is true that I know them all. I’m sorry, she is from somewhere else – maybe the town. The parents must be near, I think.” Azmera spoke in accented but perfect English. Ice had the fleeting thought that she could have been anything in her previous life – a highly paid university academic or a surgeon. The climate took no prisoners but it was often only those who had enough money who could even afford to make the dangerous journey to somewhere they believed was safer.
Ever since she had fallen unconscious in the cave, she had felt a sense of apathy, and though she recognised that Oscar was right, and that fencing the refugees off away from the community without decent access to resources was not a good solution, she could not match his level of passion about it. It was as though all people were in the sinking ship anyway, and it did not really matter if they were on the deck or in the bilges. The outcome would be the same.#amwriting
It was worth being cautious. Although humans continued to show some resistance to the bird flu that had taken such a toll on wildlife, there was a growing list of airborne infectious diseases, old and new, that hadn’t been helped by the mass movement of people and the drive to make everything appear normal.
Joe received this information silently, merely pulling a face of contemplation and rubbing his left ear before laying back on the grass and gazing up at the sky. Perhaps he was reminiscing about the great serpent made of birds that he had seen with her in Depton. Or maybe he was just thinking how she always seemed to be embroiled in some bonkers mystery. Ice sat in silence too, letting the sound of the water and birdsong fill the empty space.
The culprit was right there in her view as she scanned the horizon. Like some kind of aquatic behemoth, it raised a giant flat concrete body above the waves on four legs of latticed steel. Three cranes, like insectoid limbs, reached out and away from a central tower that rose several metres above the platform. A part of Ice – presumably inherited from her engineer father – could appreciate the structure for its functional and robust design. It was no mean feat to withstand the North Sea weather. But she knew too, that it was the outward sign of a world that was still addicted to the oil that was destroying it.
Some of these paused their game momentarily to observe her with fleeting curiosity but they quickly lost interest as she made her way towards what looked like a main gate. There was a flat-roofed cabin beside this and Ice assumed that it was some sort of office associated with administration. Against all her instincts, she forced herself to approach, rehearsing what she would say in a way that wouldn’t sound odd. From her position just outside the gate, she could peer through one of the windows to a drab, off-white interior. A person was seated inside, partially hidden from Ice by a computer screen and at this point her nerve might have given out had they not looked up and caught her eye. A dark-haired man aged perhaps thirty or so, rose from his seat and moved towards the cabin door.
The feeling that Ice experienced next, recalled to her instantly another night – one of storms and earthquakes where the ground had opened beneath her. This time, there was no rupture, only the sensation that the soft grass and the soil were melting away, and that she was in the company of the shadelings who were taking her through the fabric of the earth. Just as before, there was no claustrophobic panic but instead a loss of all sense of orientation or the passage of time.
As if reading her thoughts, Mia suddenly blurted out, “What’s the thing with Joe, anyway? Has something happened? I mean, I know he’s a total bap, but I thought from what you said that he was getting on OK since he was under your wing type thing!” She laughed at the image and Ice did too, but it was tinged with annoyance that the subject of Joe should break the pleasant spell. She gave a small grunt of exasperation. “He’s upset with me, I suppose. He seems to be trying to make a big point of showing it by avoiding me and being away all the time. I don’t care and it’s his own fault.” Mia stopped walking and turned to face her friend. “OK...” she said, pulling a face of query that was prompting Ice to elaborate. Ice sighed and repressed an urge to giggle. It did seem childish.
Those were fires that had started indoors – because of electrical faults or a chip pan overflowing – but this fire was different. It had not been checked in its infancy and had raged from outside in, blowing through the glass windows and reaching furious levels of heat that had not left any of their staircase intact. Now they both looked upwards into the gap above their heads. There were no rooms upstairs to reach. The entire ceiling and the roof above had collapsed onto the ground floor, leaving not even a trace of rafters to form a lattice across the grey sky.
“It’s OK,” he added quickly, noting the colour draining from Ice’s face, “From what I know, they’re not exactly evil.” Oscar emphasised this with a drawn out stress on the ‘e’, and then paused before continuing, “Although I can’t say they’re exactly good, either!” he laughed. “Most lore has them as what we call ‘chaotic neutral’. So not good or bad but they do their own thing.” Ice shook her head and gazed at the table top, aware that she was breathing too quickly and attempting to bring it back to normal. It was as much to herself as to Oscar that she said, “Am I supposed to do something?”. Oscar shrugged anyway.
Oscar watched his father go and then dropped his head, staring at but not attending to the page of fractions. Ice could sense his dismay. His expectation was that he would be told not to get involved in things that were the domain of the adults. It wouldn’t be the first time they had been given that kind of injunction. It was a protective behaviour from their father, but she knew how it would feel to Oscar – dismissive and belittling. He had quietly proven himself several times in the last two years, often without the credit he deserved. And he was right this time too.
Ice smiled. Her little brother’s unfazed acceptance of things was always appreciated and his underlying good humour was infectious. If she were going to share the story, he’d be the best audience. He always had been. “Well no, actually,” she began. She hesitated. “It was like a gift, or… something. I don’t really know.” Sensing there was more to come, Oscar sat down opposite Ice and placed his elbows on the table, leaning his chin on his cupped hands and gazing at Ice with an exaggerated sweet smile of anticipation that made Ice laugh out loud.
Warwickshire itself felt surprisingly like an old friend, even though she had lived there less than two years. Like the stuff of classic landscape paintings, gently sloping hills cut picturesque vistas with their remaining leafless oaks dotted across green or muddy brown fields. In the year following the drought, it had rained again, so much so that bright, flat patches of water covered many of the lower levels. In places, small, mixed woodland survived with bare broad-leaf trees, and pines that looked intensely green by contrast as they responded to the warmth and the wet weather. Ice knew it was not a healthy sign overall, but she welcomed their presence, nevertheless.
"She had her back to the boy and gazed down towards the tumbling waters of the small river, becoming almost mesmerised by their repetitive and yet constantly changing patterns. Another river, just over a year ago, in Warwickshire, had saved her life."
“No handouts?” she said, raising her eyebrows at him. Joe caught her meaning instantly. “Oh right,” he retorted. “Do you think I don’t know? That I’m not grateful? That I’m not acutely aware that I could be out on my arse at a moment’s notice? Do you think it isn’t apparent to me every day I’m in your family that I don’t have one of my own? That you consider me as some sort of bad boy waif that you have to put up with. A rescue dog. Less than you? Not worthy. Not up to the standard of your dead boyfriend? You’re right, Ice, I must be an idiot!”
Eventually, they reached the main entry road into town and here the fires must have swept out of control across swathes of shops and residential properties. Ice hoped that the people, like her family, had managed to escape and she tried not to think of the pets that might have been abandoned to their fate. They drove slowly through the centre, quietly observing the changed face of the town. The clock tower stood, as it had done for centuries, in the middle of the roundabout, stonework blackened but resistant. Ice could not suppress a glance towards the top of the tower near the weather vane, where she had first seen a shadeling on the day their father had driven them to their new home. None was there now but she thought of them, deep in the earth and she hoped they were safe.
Eventually, recalling the extraordinary events, she thought of Daniel who had been her friend and who she had lost, his life cut short so needlessly. As always, she felt the stricture in her chest that his memory brought and a sense of things unresolved. Their little group, Daniel, Mia and herself, had settled into such easy companionship, with all the potential for shared experiences to come – none realised. It had been torn apart by forces beyond their control, and now Daniel was gone and Mia was halfway across the world.
Ahead was a building – a simple cuboid of brownish stone. It was nestled in an area of green, dotted with ancient gravestones – an island of grass and trees in the muddy brown of recently harvested potato fields. Ice approached at some speed and partially dismounted to scoot the last twenty metres on one pedal, pulling on the brakes to bring bike to a stop right next to the east wall, hidden from the road.
Ice pushed her hair away with the crook of her elbow and raised a small pair of binoculars to her eyes, examining the white spray as the wind clipped the wave peaks. She was keen to spot movement of a different kind – darker shapes which were the seals raising their heads above the water, or the splash of a fluke giving away the presence of Minke whales.
There was no sign of Joe, thank goodness. She was blissfully alone in the small kirk. Perhaps whoever looked after it – was it the priest? – she didn’t know – perhaps they had left it only briefly and would return soon. Or maybe they just believed no harm would come to it left unlocked in the middle of the countryside. Ice looked around, weighing up the view as a thief might. There was little of value that could be easily carried, yet she still felt a slight quickening of the pulse that she could be caught intruding. Despite this, she was driven to explore further, considering all who had passed between these walls down the centuries. Her eye was drawn to the modest pulpit on which was placed a hefty Bible, open and place-marked, and then to a small door behind this at the back of the kirk. On trying the handle, Ice let out a hiss of annoyance at finding the door locked. Obstructed, she felt an even stronger urge enter the room behind it.
To her surprise, there really did seem to be a sudden, barely perceptible shift in the outline of the rocks. Her heart lurched and she peered harder into the gloom, already dismissing it as a trick of the light and the effect of staring too long at one place. She laughed sheepishly and would have been satisfied had she not glanced at Buddy and seen the dog’s attention also focussed in that direction. “Oh, is there something there?” she whispered to herself or Buddy, thinking of what marine creature might have sought refuge in the cave. Her question was answered immediately; there was no doubt of movement as a distinct shape detached itself from the rock pile and stood silhouetted and separate just in front of the branching of the two tunnels.
She cupped her hand over her mouth and froze, gazing at the creatures in delight but wary of spooking them. She need not have been concerned. Three individuals made their way towards her across the space, undulating like otters through water. Quickly, Ice slipped outside, noiselessly closing the outer flap and stepping barefoot onto the wet grass. The shadelings turned and Ice knew the gesture – a prompt to follow, her heart thudding with excitement at the re-encounter. They seemed to cluster around the largest stone of the circle – the one that had fallen the night of the earthquake and the same one that she and Joe had sat on that overheated October before the fires came. The distinctive creaking noise they made which had become so familiar to her back then, was reaching such a crescendo that Ice looked back at the tent, concerned about its occupant. If her mother were to awaken and look out, Ice did not know what she would would make of the scene. But there was no movement from within and Ice was reminded that very few were able to notice the shadelings or their sounds.
Ice traced the patterns with her finger. They were old – possibly carved by some of the first people to have made it this far north after the retreat of the ice shelf. Among the tight spirals and strange geometric shapes, she was sure she could make out representations of creatures. One looked like a child’s drawing of a fish. Another could have been the undulating form of a great sea beast. Ice stared at this one, wondering if it was a sign that the ancient people had shared experiences like hers. Had they too witnessed the giant creatures coalescing from flocks of birds, as she had back in Depton? According to Marianne, the “witch-woman”, as Joe had called her, the creatures were the ‘Old Ones’, known in mythology and seen by some at the time of Samhain when the fabric of the worlds grew thin.
Ice found herself standing on the wet sand of low tide with no recollection of having walked there. With a sudden surge of panic, she shouted for Buddy but discovered him at her side, silent and gazing up at her quizzically. She let out a short laugh but her relief was tempered with unease and she turned to look back up the slope towards the shaded entry of the cave, trying to recap the last few moments. There had been small child – a girl – hadn’t there? As hard as she tried, Ice could not recall having said anything, nor where the child had gone, but she was not visible at the entrance nor on any part of the beach that Ice could see.
Ice knew something was wrong the moment she emerged, standing on the top boulder, her arms, head and shoulders just breaching the narrow exit. With a kick and a push on to her elbows, she would have been clear, but she was hit with a blast of warm, dry air and though she gasped for breath and shielded her eyes, there was no satisfying rush of oxygen. It was only moments until the view before her faded to black like the closing of a camera shutter and she lost consciousness, but in that brief glimpse she took in the scene of desolation. Vast dunes stretched in all directions and among them she could see the crumbling vestiges of man-made structures: dead-eyed buildings, their glass windows long since shattered to dust; stretches of rutted road where the sand had drifted and laid bare the surface; the lofty tower of a wind turbine now devoid of movement, its disconnected blades implanted at its base in the sand. And in the middle of it all, solitary and impervious to the relentless wind, a figure she knew, head half-turned, watching her with an expression Ice could not begin to interpret.
A cartoon skeleton in rags hanging on the cave wall. He is wearing a beanie hat and an ACDC t-shirt. A guitar case is still slung over his shoulder.
A spooky throne room in a cave. It is deserted and bathed in the orange glow from the torches. Some stone steps lead up to the stone throne.
Black and white image of a feisty young female goblin weilding a long pointed pole. She has a plait of long hair and a ring in her ear. She is smiling with sharp little teeth showing.
Gogzi the little goblin. A cartoon goblin with orange hair and large pointed ears. She isn't happy because she's been captured and tied up.
Cute mallard walking to the right
Tan and white boxer dog resting chin on owner's knee whilst looking straight to camera cutely as if asking for something.
Ice would have said Mia had brought the weather with her. Not literally from the wild Russian coast but temperamentally; the wind had dropped and a bright, low sun warmed them, matching comfort with company as they strolled together along the water’s edge. For once, the waves of the North Sea belied their reputation, rolling gently towards the girls in wide, bubbling sheets that enticed them to remove their boots and kick through the cold water.
Poster for the Ice Cooper series showing Ice Cooper and the Depton Shadelings and Ice Cooper and the Beast of Bale. Background image is Ice, a young girl walking with her boxer dog among the standing stones. A dark cat-like creater is perched at the top of the poster.
Pile of the Handy Booklet for WRiting. The perfect companion to take your craft to the next level. Ideal for KS2 and 3. J A Bowler.
Jaded, unruly wit craving a twilight host Unsure, illicit noon dazzling a magnificent ghost Latent, ample waste clothing the fading springs Incomprehensible, scenic leap hunting the orangish wings Embattled, pastel childhood finishing the seasoned sands Timely, luminous lies purifying the connected bands