I came up with piece just this week. In this piece, a young lady walks through town, thinking that it'll be a normal day in town. That is, until she hears of familiar squeaking that hints that somebody it following her. I hope that you will enjoy this piece.
Wendy loved coming to tower on a Friday afternoon. It is here where she meets up with her friends after working hours and they go off to night clubs, where they love have a party.
Wendy hopped off the bus into town with delight. Just half an hour before she was due to meet up with friends at the G4 Club. As she rounded a corner that approached a retail building's front door, it was here that she first heard the sound.
Squeak, squeak, squeak.
There was something odd about the squeaks. There was a gap big enough for a step to happen. It was as if the walker had a new pair of shoes, but one of them was still squeaking. Thinking that it was somebody in passing, Wendy took no notice as she stopped and peeked into a shop window.
But then, the squeaking returned and passed on. Wendy thought maybe the walker remembered something he forgot and was going to back for it.
Wendy then proceed to enter the retail building and walked to the coffee shop for a cup of coffee. As she exited the coffee, feeling refreshed, and started walking past the other shop windows, she heard it again.
Squeak, squeak, squeak.
Is somebody following me? Wendy asked herself, the first hint of nerves starting to sink in.
Hoping that she wasn't showing her fear, she stopped and pretended to look at something nice in a shop window beside her, but started to focus on the reflections on the glass. The whole hall was full of people, but one had his eyes on her.
He was about thirty years of age, strong build, hands deep in his coat pockets and every time he stepped forward, his left leg limped and his ankle gave the faint squeak. His dark eyes was hidden in shadow. And beside his leg, was a large dog, that was more like a wolf than anything else.
Wendy pretended to stop looking at the object in the window and walked into the shop, aware of the squeaking that announce that the man had entered the shop a few feet behind. She could feel his eyes upon her. Knowing the shop's layout, Wendy quickly double backed and out of the shop and up a flight of stairs and into another shop. She reached the middle of the shop, she sighed in relief.
Squeak, squeak, squeak.
He's still following? Wendy asked herself, He can't walk that fast. She hid round a tall shelf.
Her heart was racing now as she waited for the man to pass. But the squeaking stopped.
At least a minute past, but nothing.
Softly, she looked around the shelf. The man was standing in the doorway, his shadow casted eyes fixed on her as she quickly dodged back round the shelf.
She knew that this shop had no other door than the one being guarded by the man and his dog.
Squeak, squeak, squeak.
She turned her head and saw the man looming over her. Her heart's rate rocketed as fear drowned her heart.
"Wendy?" The man asked.
She nodded. He produced a purse from his coat pocket.
"You dropped your purse on the bus."
She felt her pockets and found her purse gone. She took the purse from his hand and saw that it was her purse. Relief washed over her.
"I was trying to return it, but my blasted left leg made me slower than I used to be. Are you Jess Ennis-Hill's long-lost cousin?"
"Thank you so much." She laughed with a smile.
"You're very welcome." Said the man, with a nod of his head, his eyes flashing brightly. "Sorry if I scared you. Have a nice day." And with that, the man and his dog walked out of the shop.
"And you don't know his name?" Julia asked Wendy over the noise of the club's music. The "party" was in full flow.
"He left before I could ask." Wendy shook her head.
"Was he handsome?" Mary asked.
"Dashingly yes."
"Shame you don't have his number." Julia said.
"I'll get more drinks." Wendy spoke up and went to the bar, hoping to delay anymore questions for later.
As she waited for the refreshments, she heard a familiar sound. Squeak, squeak, squeak.
Wendy smiled.
I hope that you've enjoyed this small piece.
Wednesday, 16 November 2016
Tuesday, 1 November 2016
The Time from the Train Drivers' Watches and the Station Clock
While I creating the previous post, I discovered another short piece I wrote not long before it. I thought you might enjoy this piece.
In this piece, two train drivers, Chris and Danny, are asked by a small boy what the time is.
"What's the time?" Chris asked Danny, his pocket watch in his hand.
Danny stepped into the cab doorway of Neil the steam engine, taking out his pocket watch, and looked at it.
"Quarter to twelve."
"That's what my watch says too."
"Why ask?" Danny asked.
"This laddie here has pointed out that the station clock says ten to twelve."
"That means that your watches are slow." The boy said in a cheeky manner.
"Pardon?" Chris asked, looking scorn now.
"I said, 'That means that your watches are slow.'"
Chris and Danny looked at each other then at the boy.
"We beg your pardon my young man," Danny nodded his head, "but our watches are correct."
"No they're not."
"Yes they are."
"No they're not."
"Yes they are so." Chris mimicked the boy's voice, but failed on the accent level.
"What's going on here?" A man, in a posh suit and coat, appeared through a gathering crowd.
"Nothing sir." Chris replied, "Just this young man says our watches are slow compared to the clock."
"Their watches are slow Father," the boy shouted, "their watches say quarter to, the clock says ten to."
"Father?" Chris and Danny asked, surprised, as the man looked at the clock, then his watch, the clock again and corrected his watch.
"Good eyes my son." The man patted his son's head. "I'll get you a watch. I've got a friend who owns a watch factory."
"We've got a friend in a watch factory." Chris spoke.
"Really?" Asked the man, "What does he do?"
"He sits about and makes faces."
Everyone about who heard laughed at the joke, apart from the man and his son, their faces red.
"What's going on here?" Asked the Station Master as he appeared at the front of the train, fighting his laughs.
The man pointed at Chris and Danny. "These two men say that their watches are correct and my son is wrong and spits out bad jokes to my social standing."
"How are their watches wrong?" The Station Master asked.
"How are our watches wrong?" Chris and Danny asked together.
"Their watches are five minutes slow behind you stations clock." The boy's father folded his arms with price, so did his son, both smirking.
"Oh that old clock." The Station Master smiled. "That old clock hasn't worked in twenty years."
"Son, get on the train, NOW!"
"I think somebody just lost their chance for a watch." Chris whispered to Danny, both grinning, watching the boy walk slowly embossed with a fuming father following behind in front of a laughing crowd, reconnecting his watch. The two train drivers looked at their watches, twenty four seconds past ten to twelve.
I hope that you've enjoyed this piece and I hope to expand this piece later in the future. I have already be working on Chris and Danny the steam train drivers.
In this piece, two train drivers, Chris and Danny, are asked by a small boy what the time is.
"What's the time?" Chris asked Danny, his pocket watch in his hand.
Danny stepped into the cab doorway of Neil the steam engine, taking out his pocket watch, and looked at it.
"Quarter to twelve."
"That's what my watch says too."
"Why ask?" Danny asked.
"This laddie here has pointed out that the station clock says ten to twelve."
"That means that your watches are slow." The boy said in a cheeky manner.
"Pardon?" Chris asked, looking scorn now.
"I said, 'That means that your watches are slow.'"
Chris and Danny looked at each other then at the boy.
"We beg your pardon my young man," Danny nodded his head, "but our watches are correct."
"No they're not."
"Yes they are."
"No they're not."
"Yes they are so." Chris mimicked the boy's voice, but failed on the accent level.
"What's going on here?" A man, in a posh suit and coat, appeared through a gathering crowd.
"Nothing sir." Chris replied, "Just this young man says our watches are slow compared to the clock."
"Their watches are slow Father," the boy shouted, "their watches say quarter to, the clock says ten to."
"Father?" Chris and Danny asked, surprised, as the man looked at the clock, then his watch, the clock again and corrected his watch.
"Good eyes my son." The man patted his son's head. "I'll get you a watch. I've got a friend who owns a watch factory."
"We've got a friend in a watch factory." Chris spoke.
"Really?" Asked the man, "What does he do?"
"He sits about and makes faces."
Everyone about who heard laughed at the joke, apart from the man and his son, their faces red.
"What's going on here?" Asked the Station Master as he appeared at the front of the train, fighting his laughs.
The man pointed at Chris and Danny. "These two men say that their watches are correct and my son is wrong and spits out bad jokes to my social standing."
"How are their watches wrong?" The Station Master asked.
"How are our watches wrong?" Chris and Danny asked together.
"Their watches are five minutes slow behind you stations clock." The boy's father folded his arms with price, so did his son, both smirking.
"Oh that old clock." The Station Master smiled. "That old clock hasn't worked in twenty years."
"Son, get on the train, NOW!"
"I think somebody just lost their chance for a watch." Chris whispered to Danny, both grinning, watching the boy walk slowly embossed with a fuming father following behind in front of a laughing crowd, reconnecting his watch. The two train drivers looked at their watches, twenty four seconds past ten to twelve.
I hope that you've enjoyed this piece and I hope to expand this piece later in the future. I have already be working on Chris and Danny the steam train drivers.
Monday, 31 October 2016
A Short Horror Story
I wrote this piece back in March, I thought you might like to read it.
Douglas closed the front door after giving sweets to the trick-or-treating children, sighing. He wasn't so keen on Halloween at all. All the fancy dressing up as ghosts, witches, zombies, mummies, princesses, werewolves and Harley Quinn and anything related to Halloween possible. But Douglas was glad that all this happens once a year.
Scarlett was in the kitchen, pouring out tomato juice, waring a thick dark scarf and black dress. Douglas placed the sweet bowl down on the bench as he looked for more sweets.
"A good night for the kids?" Scarlett asked as her husband reappeared with the sweets bag.
"Oh yes. But I'll be glad to see the end of Halloween this year."
"Oh come on, it's one night of the whole year."
"Well, I'm sure that Halloween will be the death of me." Douglas shrugged off his wife's remark.
Scarlett walked to the window and looked out to the full moon, her skin shinning brighter, catching Douglas's eye.
"Are you alright?" He asked.
Scarlett looked at him. "Of course I am."
"You've looked pale these couple of days."
"I'm fine." Scarlett shrugged off her husband's remark.
"Perhaps you should see somebody." Douglas remarked.
"I already have."
"And?"
"Never better." Scarlett answered.
The door bell rang.
"Another trick-or-treat." Douglas sighed, picking the sweets bowl up before answering the door.
The visitor towered Douglas by a full head. His dark cape matched it's wearer's smooth dark hair above his emotionless thin face, his eyes fixed on Douglas.
"I have nothing but treats." Douglas greeted the stranger.
"I'm sure you do." The stranger answered with a nod.
It was then that Douglas looked one of his missing mirrors behind the stranger, but as Douglas looked into it, she saw...only himself. The stranger wasn't in it. As if the stranger knew from Douglas's face of confusion, she smiled, bearing his fangs.
Without a second thought, Douglas slammed the door closed, dropping the sweet bowl, his face sweating n horror.
"What's the matter my dear?" Scarlett asked as she appeared in the hallway, slowly approaching her husband.
"There's a vampire outside." Douglas answered.
"It's Halloween."
"A real vampire!"
"Stop kidding."
"I'm not kidding!" Douglas shook his head. "I saw his fangs!"
"Oh do settle down." Scarlett reached her husband and they embraced.
Douglas looked down the hallway past his wife and, in a mirror at the far end, he saw...himself embracing nothing but air. He looked between the mirror and his wife's red hair for a second. Then he grabbed and pulled her scarf off and found two red dots on her pale neck. She leant back he head, smiled, bearing her fangs before she dived her mouth over his neck.
Outside, the Count smiled as he heard screams of horror.
I hope that you've enjoyed this piece and Halloween this year.
Douglas closed the front door after giving sweets to the trick-or-treating children, sighing. He wasn't so keen on Halloween at all. All the fancy dressing up as ghosts, witches, zombies, mummies, princesses, werewolves and Harley Quinn and anything related to Halloween possible. But Douglas was glad that all this happens once a year.
Scarlett was in the kitchen, pouring out tomato juice, waring a thick dark scarf and black dress. Douglas placed the sweet bowl down on the bench as he looked for more sweets.
"A good night for the kids?" Scarlett asked as her husband reappeared with the sweets bag.
"Oh yes. But I'll be glad to see the end of Halloween this year."
"Oh come on, it's one night of the whole year."
"Well, I'm sure that Halloween will be the death of me." Douglas shrugged off his wife's remark.
Scarlett walked to the window and looked out to the full moon, her skin shinning brighter, catching Douglas's eye.
"Are you alright?" He asked.
Scarlett looked at him. "Of course I am."
"You've looked pale these couple of days."
"I'm fine." Scarlett shrugged off her husband's remark.
"Perhaps you should see somebody." Douglas remarked.
"I already have."
"And?"
"Never better." Scarlett answered.
The door bell rang.
"Another trick-or-treat." Douglas sighed, picking the sweets bowl up before answering the door.
The visitor towered Douglas by a full head. His dark cape matched it's wearer's smooth dark hair above his emotionless thin face, his eyes fixed on Douglas.
"I have nothing but treats." Douglas greeted the stranger.
"I'm sure you do." The stranger answered with a nod.
It was then that Douglas looked one of his missing mirrors behind the stranger, but as Douglas looked into it, she saw...only himself. The stranger wasn't in it. As if the stranger knew from Douglas's face of confusion, she smiled, bearing his fangs.
Without a second thought, Douglas slammed the door closed, dropping the sweet bowl, his face sweating n horror.
"What's the matter my dear?" Scarlett asked as she appeared in the hallway, slowly approaching her husband.
"There's a vampire outside." Douglas answered.
"It's Halloween."
"A real vampire!"
"Stop kidding."
"I'm not kidding!" Douglas shook his head. "I saw his fangs!"
"Oh do settle down." Scarlett reached her husband and they embraced.
Douglas looked down the hallway past his wife and, in a mirror at the far end, he saw...himself embracing nothing but air. He looked between the mirror and his wife's red hair for a second. Then he grabbed and pulled her scarf off and found two red dots on her pale neck. She leant back he head, smiled, bearing her fangs before she dived her mouth over his neck.
Outside, the Count smiled as he heard screams of horror.
I hope that you've enjoyed this piece and Halloween this year.
Monday, 19 September 2016
Roald Dahl's Hundred Birthday
This year is the hundredth birthday of the children's book author, Roald Dahl.
Born on the 13th of September 1916, to Norwegian parents in Cardiff, Roald Dahl's early life did have some downs (such as the deaths of his older sister and father in 1920) and ups (such as the playing a trick on a shopkeeper by planting a mouse in a gobstopper jar). In 1939, the Second World War broke out and Roald Dahl joined the RAF, fighting over Greece in early 1941. After the War, Roald Dahl married Patricia Neal in 1953 an together had five children before their divorce in 1983.
But it is his writings that has made him more famous. Books such as James and the Giant Peach, Fantiastic Mr Fox, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, The BFG and Matilda have been a success and have been adapted into films (Charlie and the Chocolate Factory twice, the first with the late Gene Wilder and the second with Johnny Depp as Willy Wonka, and Disney has released Steven Spielberg's adaption of The BFG earlier this year) and stage plays. Matilda the Musical won many Olivier awards when it first performed in 2010 including Best New Musical, Best Actor and Best Actress (one for each of the four girls who performed Matilda).
One short story I read involved a driver who picks up a hitchhiker on his way to the horse races, who encourages the driver to speed along the road on a dare when the driver (who narrates the story) tells of how fast the car can go, before being stopped by a policeman who takes notes, gives a ticket and lets them go. The hitchhiker reveals that he's a "fingersmith" (another way of saying pocket-picker) and that he's got the policeman's notebook and the story ends with the hitchhiker suggesting that the amazed driver stops so they can get rid of the notebook.
Roald Dahl wrote film scripts for many films, such as Ian Fleming's Chitty Chitty Bang Bang in 1967 and You Only Live Twice in 1968.
Roald Dahl sadly passed away on the 23rd of November 1990.
Roald Dahl will always be remembered for his children's books, all of whom filled with colourful character, (such as Willy Wonka, Charlie Bucket, Grandpa Joe, Matilda, Miss Trunchball, The BFG, Sophie and Mr Fox) funny plots and the many words Dahl made up. I hope that his books will continue to entertain children around the world.
Born on the 13th of September 1916, to Norwegian parents in Cardiff, Roald Dahl's early life did have some downs (such as the deaths of his older sister and father in 1920) and ups (such as the playing a trick on a shopkeeper by planting a mouse in a gobstopper jar). In 1939, the Second World War broke out and Roald Dahl joined the RAF, fighting over Greece in early 1941. After the War, Roald Dahl married Patricia Neal in 1953 an together had five children before their divorce in 1983.
But it is his writings that has made him more famous. Books such as James and the Giant Peach, Fantiastic Mr Fox, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, The BFG and Matilda have been a success and have been adapted into films (Charlie and the Chocolate Factory twice, the first with the late Gene Wilder and the second with Johnny Depp as Willy Wonka, and Disney has released Steven Spielberg's adaption of The BFG earlier this year) and stage plays. Matilda the Musical won many Olivier awards when it first performed in 2010 including Best New Musical, Best Actor and Best Actress (one for each of the four girls who performed Matilda).
One short story I read involved a driver who picks up a hitchhiker on his way to the horse races, who encourages the driver to speed along the road on a dare when the driver (who narrates the story) tells of how fast the car can go, before being stopped by a policeman who takes notes, gives a ticket and lets them go. The hitchhiker reveals that he's a "fingersmith" (another way of saying pocket-picker) and that he's got the policeman's notebook and the story ends with the hitchhiker suggesting that the amazed driver stops so they can get rid of the notebook.
Roald Dahl wrote film scripts for many films, such as Ian Fleming's Chitty Chitty Bang Bang in 1967 and You Only Live Twice in 1968.
Roald Dahl sadly passed away on the 23rd of November 1990.
Roald Dahl will always be remembered for his children's books, all of whom filled with colourful character, (such as Willy Wonka, Charlie Bucket, Grandpa Joe, Matilda, Miss Trunchball, The BFG, Sophie and Mr Fox) funny plots and the many words Dahl made up. I hope that his books will continue to entertain children around the world.
Thursday, 14 April 2016
15th Writing Blog - Some of my ongoing projects
Hi all, I thought you might like to know what I've been doing.
In one of my previous blogs, I managed a project that was personal to me - it is nearly completed (on my last chapter, then there will be the need to correct mistakes). This story was inspired by my friendship with a good friend with an interest in trains. I have set this story into a Christmas setting with a couple of Scrooges. I hope to expand my work on the story.
For the Battle of Svalbard, I'm hoping to expand the world a bit more and explore some the world's history with a few more characters, and try to fill in some of the history between them.
For the Runcorn Organisation piece, I'm hoping to expand that too with a new team for Jaguar (who is called Kelly Jones), who will be renamed Lion, and I might bring a mysterious lady into the storyline who follows the team and has, for some reason, Jones's full trust.
I hope to bring some pieces I've worked on so you can read it as soon as possible.
In one of my previous blogs, I managed a project that was personal to me - it is nearly completed (on my last chapter, then there will be the need to correct mistakes). This story was inspired by my friendship with a good friend with an interest in trains. I have set this story into a Christmas setting with a couple of Scrooges. I hope to expand my work on the story.
For the Battle of Svalbard, I'm hoping to expand the world a bit more and explore some the world's history with a few more characters, and try to fill in some of the history between them.
For the Runcorn Organisation piece, I'm hoping to expand that too with a new team for Jaguar (who is called Kelly Jones), who will be renamed Lion, and I might bring a mysterious lady into the storyline who follows the team and has, for some reason, Jones's full trust.
I hope to bring some pieces I've worked on so you can read it as soon as possible.
Thursday, 28 January 2016
Arkwrights and TDP
I'm hoping to start a new project someday soon which is set in space and involves a couple of characters by the name of Arkwright and another character known as TDP.
The characters called Arkwright will be a human characters who travels through space, helping and saving all that is good in the galaxy on a spaceship called the Red Kite. TDP will be an unknown character who's name and deeds is unknown, but I hope to slowly reveal more about the mysterious TDP and the relationship with the Arkwrights.
I drew my inspiration of TDP from the final scene in the finale of the seventh series of Doctor Who.
I hope to whip something up for you to have a read soon.
Happy readings.
The characters called Arkwright will be a human characters who travels through space, helping and saving all that is good in the galaxy on a spaceship called the Red Kite. TDP will be an unknown character who's name and deeds is unknown, but I hope to slowly reveal more about the mysterious TDP and the relationship with the Arkwrights.
I drew my inspiration of TDP from the final scene in the finale of the seventh series of Doctor Who.
I hope to whip something up for you to have a read soon.
Happy readings.
Monday, 18 January 2016
New Update on The Battle of Svalbard
I know that it's been a while since my last blog, but I have been busy with this story and other projects (one of them had personal reasons and connections).
So far, I have rebooted the start of the story and have past the point when HMS Steel is sunk in battle. I have done some further research into the era the story is based on and have started keeping my notes closer together in hope that I might expand the story, and hint of future stories featuring Captain Theodore Nelson.
I hope to update you as the story comes along and get the story finished before long. I even hope to continue my writing blog with other pieces as best I can.
So far, I have rebooted the start of the story and have past the point when HMS Steel is sunk in battle. I have done some further research into the era the story is based on and have started keeping my notes closer together in hope that I might expand the story, and hint of future stories featuring Captain Theodore Nelson.
I hope to update you as the story comes along and get the story finished before long. I even hope to continue my writing blog with other pieces as best I can.
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