Category: Novel

  • Working 9 To 5 (ish)

    At 9am precisely, Susan DeWitt pushed open the door to the little office. She had been there now nearly 4 months, and she was slowly beginning to get used to their little peculiarities. The main part of the office was taken up with two desks. The one nearest to the door was heaped with folders,…

  • Ugly Duckling – 18 Only!

    So, for those regular reading of the blog, will know that I’ve been writing a Novel. I’ve just written an article that I think is perhaps a little close to the line, and as such I’ve password-protected it. If you are OVER 18 and want to read the post, the password is Iam18, if your…

  • Protected: Ugly Duckling

    There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.

  • The Cafe Culture

    He arrived at the cafe at 11, and made his way to a table. Today it was the turn of the top-right-hand table. It always amused him that people, in general, were creatures of habit, and because of this, it was amazing what you could get away with in plain site. He undid the top…

  • Writing and Drawing

    Martha let her hands dance over the white piece of paper. She liked blank pieces of paper, they made her happy. It wasn’t long, however, before the pen in her hand began leaving ugly trails all over it. Her hand was trying to capture the images in her head, the noise and the voices. None…

  • The Search

    James crawled his way through the old metal tube, and stopped at the metal grill that looked down into the dark room below him. From the smell that rose up he was sure he was in the right place. The rank smell of rotting flesh and drying blood. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom…

  • A Trip to Section 23

    He looked around the dingy train. The seats worn and ripped, the carpet threadbare, the train apparently unable to to travel any great distance without jerking. He let his eyes be drawn out of the window at the grey countryside around him. It was drizzling with rain. Drizzling with rain was what this part of…

  • The Island of Reason

    The first few months had been nothing but rage. Each time, each stake, had been revenge. The number of times he had paid back his father’s death on one of the monsters was incalculable. Just like the times he had avenged his mother by slowly pulling one out into the daylight. They were simply monsters,…

  • Alone

    He stumbled over the stones on the mountain, and put his hand out to steady himself. He sighed, and pulled his dirty jacket around him. He looked towards the small grey line that winds through these hills. He liked the silence of the mountains. He liked the soft tinkle of the water. Most of all…

  • Picture Perfect

    Michael stamped his feet against the cold, and blew into his cupped hands. Not for the first time that night he contemplated his warm flat. He pulled the collar up on his coat, and went back to contemplating the window. This was becoming a little tedious. All he wanted was to be able to take…

  • First Time

    The black van pulled up to the farm house. James leaned forward to look at it, past Marcus, the driver. “You know, in all those films, that would be a wooden house, not a think stone walled house, with doors that look so sturdy you need a battering ram to get through them” “Dem’s de…

  • The Office

    Susan Webster sat on her packing boxes, and looked around her now-packed house. She had lived there in a not-so happy marriage with her Husband for the past 20 years. She’s thought they were doing okay. The talking had slowed down, and he had started spending more time at work, but that was normal for…

  • The Monk

    The Abbot opened the door to the two visitors to the monastry. They were an odd pair, one in black jeans, and black T-shirt, the other with his hair in dread-locks, and black skin. He looked familiar, but the Abbot couldn’t place him. “Can I help you gentlemen?” The abbot asked. “He’s ‘ere for de…

  • Sweeper

    Edward was angry, working his way up to furious. It was his fathers’ fault. Being 17,  ninty percent of the things that made him angry was his fathers fault. This one, in particular, he felt was his fathers fault. Edward would be turning 18 in a few months, and he was trying to organise a…

  • Interval

    The black van sat at the side of the long single-track road. The two men in the front seat were busy staring out the main window. An acqusation-filled silence passed between the two men. The driver, a tall black man, with dread-locks and a once-colourfull hat was resting his feet either side of the steering…