This week, show us something creepy — because hey, we can’t take photos of rainbows and puppies every day. Well, okay, I guess we can. But let’s branch out anyway!
Sunday 20th December 2015.
Here we are once again, another year passed and lots of stories to tell. There are probably many things we are grateful for, some of you have written about them. But mostly these thoughts, outer or inner are very important to each of us. I am grateful for may things, being alive is just one very important thing.
I am very disappointed this year because I am unable to do my Xmas series, different topics each year, three years or is it four, but not this year due to committments and not having the time. I find these past posts helped me feel the Xmas feeling more and passing it on to you. Anyway peoples here is my little thought for all of you.
Gerry A / C 2015 Xmas©
November 30th Monday.
It is the end of November, the end of Nanowrimo and the end of my rather poor attempt. This year I had fully intended to participate and for the first few weeks everything was fine. But I got involved in another project which will last until just before Xmas and because of this it put an end to quality time and I was therefore unable to commit to writing which has resulted in not completing the task. I am disappointed in not being able to commit fully and finish but I had to put priorities first, timing was not good. I did reach just over 25000 words.
It has not been a complete loss, my story, a modern-day crime/adventure story has started to evolve from a short story which I have published here. Some great characters have started to develop, the story line which started from the short story has now matured into a tight fast-moving, twisting and intertwining lines, with lots of surprises. Lots of dead bodies and blood, not too descriptive, with plots yet to be unraveled. Because of my Crime Fiction course I have moved into an unknown world and with my current attempt I will continue to write and hopefully finish this story. Even I am intrigued has to how it will end.
Gerry A/C 2015 ©
Wednesday 7th October 2015
Pop over and join with these challenges.
This story is a little late for the challenge but I am assured it is okay to post. This story is part of the crime story I am trying to compose. Maybe do it for Nano next month. This short piece is at the beginning of the story and has been edited to shorten it for Sandra’s challenge. There are three parts to start the story and this one. Enjoy!!!!!
The darkness of the night was losing its battle with the street lamp and the lights on the building as they shone brightly lighting up the whole car park, the car stood alone, abandoned with it’s drivers door wide open. The small saloon car was parked suspiciously in the deserted car park in front of the building, no one could be seen. Police constable Wilson was slowly walking around the car making notes, no sign of a fight, no tyre marks on the road and no damage to the car. He carefully looked inside, no key in the ignition, nothing suspicious was seen. Constable Wilson then decided to radio in the incident, he finished off, “however sir, I cannot see anything to concern ourselves at this moment.” He paused and replied, “yes sir, of course sir.” He clicked off and replaced his handset mumbling to himself, “stop wasting his time, well we shall see.”
He pushed the door shut with his elbow and wandered across the car park towards the building. There were no lights inside, all doors locked, passing the large shutter doors he looked directly up to the top windows. Originally he thought the light in the top window was a reflection of the car park lights but now underneath the window he could see there was a light on. Was it a safety light, he thought, as he moved around the corner heading to the rear of the building. Testing each door as he went, each was locked until he came to the fourth it gave way as he turned the handle. Slowly pulling it open he carefully peered inside.
Withdrawing his torch from his utility belt turning it on he ventured inside. The bright lights from the car park sent an orange glow into the building, giving the whole inside an eerie look. Shadows where there shouldn’t be, cast across the ceiling and floor. The desks with their lamps watching his every move, ready to leap as constable Wilson passed them, while coiled cables spread across the floor hissing ready to spring.
Each room he checked proved them to be empty, his torch beam scanning the corners. The floor was a large open plan office with rooms at random along the front of the building. The walls of these rooms were made of thin panelling from the floor to half way, with frosted glass the rest of the way up to the ceiling, allowing the car park lights to glow faintly into the block. Feeling satisfied that the floor was clear he found stairs that led to the upper floor. He had to tread quietly and remain alert knowing it was this level that had the light showing in one of the windows.
At the top of the stairs he pushed the fire door open, stepped into the corridor. His heart was beating rapidly, adrenalin high causing difficulty to walk steadily. In the corridor he paused, shining his torch at both ends, passing its beam across the floor. The far end was where the light was seen, but he could not see any light showing beneath any of the doors. Wilson knew he had to continue, he had to clear the building, he had to be sure it was empty and there was no threat.
Putting one foot in front of the other he trod nervously, struggling to remain silent. Just as he thought how well he was doing he trod on a stray plastic water cup. As it crunched under his foot it sounded deafening loud, he stopped, heart thumping at his rib cage he felt he was going to collapse, feeling feint it took all his strength to stop from falling over. After taking several deep breaths he started to feel a little better. He lifted his foot and the crunch of the cup on his release was heard, not so deafening this time, one careful step at a time he proceeded. Door after door he opened and inspected the inside. The small offices all consisted of a small desk with a computer screen and a telephone, with a typical office chair either side. Guiding his torch beam into every corner and under all the desks each time finding nothing. His nerve was holding until he reached the final door, the light from inside could be seen glowing through the crack of the door at the bottom.
Looking through the small frosted glass panel he thought he saw a shadow move across the room. His body was shaking nervously he was now not sure what to do. How should he proceed alone? Should he call it in? His nerves were telling him to be careful, advising him to get help, tread with caution. Standing at the door thinking quick and hard trying to decide his next move, when the shadow moved again, coming toward the door.
Constable Wilson quickly moved to one side to stand flat against the wall out of the line of the window. He held up his torch to check and realised he had switched it off, the light here was good enough to see. He stayed motionless for a minute or two before having the courage to move, then crept slowly along the back wall until he was in front of the door again. Hypnotically his gaze was fixed on the glass panel not looking through it but at it.
Wilson’s mind was running wild with him, this neighbourhood is good, hardly ever had any trouble. Maybe kids playing football against the wall, even this was rare. It was known as an upmarket area and was well policed, it has been recently rebuilt making it a clean, tidy and well maintained part of the town. Why had his partner gone on that detective course, he should have been with him. Why had the chief sent him on this patrol, why did he specifically tell him to look in on the area. His chief’s words, ‘Just check it out.’ he shouted with annoyance after being questioned. So why did the chief just brush him off when he called in? Was he testing him? Maybe he was thinking to much, maybe he was just over re-acting. Maybe I should call it in an ask for assistance. Too many maybes? On thinking he knew what the answer would be. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, ‘I can do this, yes I can.’ he whispered. He inserted his torch into his belt and withdrew his extendable truncheon, flicked it to its length stepped forward and clasped hold of the door handle. Again he saw a shadow crossing the room.
Wilson slowly turned the handle, paused a second to gain composure and then pushed the door open and hurried inside. Eyes alert darting to every part of the office room. The size of the room surprised him, it was much larger than any of the others. As he moved around the office quietly inspecting every corner he suddenly caught sight of a shadow, a movement by the window. The window was open, he knew it was not open when he checked the outside earlier. There is someone in here, “halt!.. police!” he shouted nervously as he hurried towards the window but tripped over something on the floor. He quickly stretched out his arms to break his fall, losing his truncheon as he hit the floor, doing a somersault to ease his fall and quickly regaining composure as he ended up on his knees. Finding his truncheon and grabbing it he turned to see the shadow climbing out of the window. Waving his truncheon he ran to the window, looking out he saw a figure climbing down a rope that was tied to a radiator. Reaching the ground the shadow took off across the car park. Wilson noted the shadow was a man dressed in black wearing a dark coloured baseball cap. Hair flowing out the back in a pony tail, the car park light made it difficult to recognise the colour but he would guess it was blonde. As he ran across the car park Wilson got a better view of his hair and height and size. He made a mental note as he watched the figure disappear into the darkness.
The light switch was by the door, he turned it and several lights illuminated the office, on turning round constable Wilson stopped in his tracks as he was looking upon a body, realising it was this that he tripped over. Moving around the desk to get a better view he found a male lying face down, his head in a small pool of blood. Wilson bent down and pressed his fingers to the body’s neck and found no pulse. “Now we’ll see, when I call it in.” he mumbled to himself as he walked into the hallway.
Within minutes the area was swarming with police.
Gerry A/C 2015.©
Monday 3rd August 2015
I have no Porch stories in my locker, I have been wrapped up with other projects and concerns. I do hope to get a few ideas and then get my keyboard tapping again soon, fingers crossed. Please enjoy the piece below, and if you have any ideas, I am all ears.
This, hopefully, is the start of a mystery crime story. I have started profiling characters and brief outlines of the story. This particular part, a stand alone short it maybe, is followed by two brothers attending a rally and the speaker is shot, and he passes on a notebook with gold medallion/coin inside and he asks the brothers to pass it to the lady in this brief piece. As you might notice I have not got a title or any ideas, yet!
She ran across the yard into the blacksmiths forge, pausing, she quickly looking about. Her eyes dashing from each corner of the workshop when they stopped. She was looking at a long broken axe handle, minus its head, ‘that’ll do’ she thought hurrying to the anvil where it was leaning. Picking it up she hurried out, pausing at the doorway and quickly looking both ways, then ran out and headed towards the barn and the stables. Into the open space between them meant exposing herself but she had to chance it. With the sun high in the sky her vision was clear, which meant any who was looking out for her would also see her clearly. The hundred metres disappeared quickly as she came to the barn, rushing through the open doors she came to halt at the supporting upright posts. Her hands gripping the axe handle as she stood in a defensive position. Her eyes looking around the barn and apart from the hay it looked empty. She ran to each stack of bales and peered around them until her suspicions was confirmed. There was no one here, it was time to move on and get out fast. At the door, again she peered out cautiously all around and happy it was clear she bolted towards the stable. A building that housed six cubicles, open stables, each with tall wooden planked partitions and no doors. The entrance to the stables was open, the doors had been secured wide open, she ran inside and inspected each cubicle, which she found was empty. All horses were either in the paddocks grazing or being worked. She was not worrying about them, she was just pleased to find the stables empty.
At the back door she looked out across the large cobble stoned yard, on the left there was pig pen, the open yard normally covered in mud and manure had become dry caked earth. The warm weather of the past two weeks had dried the manure and dirt. In the center of the yard was a fountain, this fountain had no water spurting from its spouts. She could use it as cover and would make her run for the cottage a little easier. Clenching the axe handle tight, twirled it several times in her hands, almost as if it was giving her some confidence or moral support. When she was happy all was clear she thought ‘now or never’ and darted out into the open and raced towards the cottage. All the time she was running she was looking everywhere, checking every part of the yard hoping nothing would surprise or ambush her. Approaching the cottage she ran straight round the back, along the path that ran beside the cottage, glancing through the small side window as she went. Coming to the corner of the cottage wall she turned sharp right and came to an open stable style door. Holding her axe handle up and ready to strike at anything that might jump out at her, she moved slowly into the kitchen. The smell of coffee still lingered in the air, she slowly and cautiously moved through another door entering the lounge, and directly in front of her across the room was the large window looking out onto the yard she had just crossed.
Cautiously she searched the room, behind the sofa and chairs under the table, behind the curtains and she let out a deep breath as she found nothing. She looked out the windows and saw shadow movement in the distant, just before the blacksmith forge. A brief movement but it was enough to tell her to hurry. Now she was feeling a little more relaxed as she moved into the next room, a large hall that had been converted, here was the main front door to the cottage. Against the walls a sideboard and hat stand stood and standing just beside the stairs was a large narrow chest of drawers with four drawers on the top half and two cupboard doors on the bottom half. All in matching dark highly polished wood. There were a few pairs of shoes on the floor next to the chest of drawers, a mixture of male and female. She paused at the bottom of the stairs and was looking up wondering whether to search upstairs or leave. Just as she went to turn and move on she heard a sound a groan that sounded like it was coming from upstairs, she thought it was of someone in pain. She rushed up stairs and into the first room in front of her at the top. The door was open, she stopped in her tracks at the sight that lay before her, she almost heaved but took control so as not to be sick. On the bed lay two bodies, blood everywhere, all over the walls behind the bed, the quilt was more red than its cream and green. She moved closer to where the sound was coming from, one of them was still alive, if only hanging on with his last breath.
She knew there was nothing she could do to help but she still moved closer to the one that was still alive. His eyes were wide open, she was shocked with the horrified look on his face, fright and fear was all she saw. He was mouthing some words, she could hardly hear him, she moved closer but still all she could hear was a mumble, blood gurgling sounds. Her own heart was beating very strong and fast, her own fear was holding her back, she needed to get close to his mouth to be able to hear him clearly, and she had to do it quickly while he was still alive, he was trying to tell her something. She leant closer putting her ear close to his mouth, his last breath he gurgled in her ear, ‘the old stables, second cubicle.’
She stood up shocked and scared not knowing what to do apart from the one thing, and that was to get out of here. One last look around the room and again at the two dead men, absorbing all the information for reference later. She hurried out to check the other bedrooms, the second one she checked there was another dead body, this time it was a female. She guessed this woman was in her thirties with short blonde hair, unlike the men who were shot she had her throat cut. This room did not have so much blood, she must have died quickly and without a fight. She was now crying and very scared, she was trembling with fright and the confusion was now taking over, she was running on adrenaline alone. In the front bedroom, looking out into the main yard she did not see any shadows.
“I must get out.” she whispered to herself, holding her axe handle tight. She ran down the stairs and turned right and headed out of the cottage the way she came in. Through the stable kitchen doors, into the back garden, facing a well maintained flower garden with a path splitting the garden in two. She ran down to the bottom and found the small gate, just as a thud was heard and a small part of the gate splintered. Then another thud and the gate splintered again but closer to her this time. Turning she saw two men standing at the side of the cottage wall, one was pointing a gun at her and then firing a third time. She flung the gate open and ran off up the gravel track just as another sound of a bullet was heard whooshing past her head. She was so scared the adrenaline that was rushing through her took over, her speed was surprising her, she did not realise she could run so fast. Hundred yards up the track she dived into the woods and kept running until she could no longer see the cottage. She looked backed several times to check if anyone was chasing, when eventually she was sure no one was she slowed and came to a walk, a hurried walk while trying to catch her breath. “What now?” she said to herself.
Gerry A/C 2015©
Saturday 25th July 2015.
Oh No! not another attempt at a photo challenge.
This week, discover the hidden details that can only be seen up close.
Tuesday 7th July 2015.
What is your favorite month of the year?
Answer – Each month as it passes, because it tells me I am still alive. My favourite month at the moment is July until next month and so on.
Do you drink coffee at all?
Answer – Only when on holiday or days out because no one is able to make tea to my liking. I find coffee is a little more consistent.
What was one of your first moneymaking jobs (other than babysitting or newspaper delivery)?
Answer – My first job as such was an apprenticeship as an Electrical Technician.
List: If you play video/computer games list 5 games you like?
Answer – Don’t ever play them I find them boring and a complete waste of time.
Bonus question: What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up?
Answer – Last week included my birthday and was smothered with love with a home made cake, which my daughter made. As well as a couple of books by my favourite authors, I received a writing course, so next week and more to follow I am looking forward to learning and progressing.
Gerry A/C 2015
Wednesday 1st and 5th July 2015.
This post for some reason got lost in the date and schedule dates in my edit times,, instead of the date it was done it showed being posted on 5th May. I do not know, so changed the date to today.. it should be automatic, WordPress glitch yes another one. thanks for your understanding..
Yesterday, the 30th June my daughter made this wonderful cake for me. Being my birthday she went out of her way to make this for me. She spent most of the afternoon in the kitchen baking it and then decorating it. This has been the fourth year running in which she has made me a wonderful cake. Each year with a different topic/title.
Just recently, the last couple of months that is, I have been concentrating on editing and reading through two of my novel length stories. My love story ‘Our Dream’ has been completed and ‘The Parchment’, a fantasy story, I have completed my first edit a few days ago. After reading it through again, I will say I am pleased with it, I do like this story. Of course it is possible that it can be improved, after all every story can be improved upon. Everyone has a different angle, different viewpoint. Our own personal imagination is our limit, the more imaginative or insane one is the better the story, well maybe. My point is, I enjoy writing stories of all lengths, poetry and song lyrics but just lately I have come short of ideas. Having no prompts or suggestions has made my mind go a little blank of late. So for my birthday yesterday I was given an online writing course, a mystery, crime fiction writing. It is set out in 12 modules with a varying amount of units within each module. This particular course is over a year but the course is open for 18 months and at the end, if completed then one will receive a recognised certificate. (so they say) So I am hoping this will inspire and improve my writing, which I feel is not as high as it could be.
Also the two stories I have now finished I am intending to e’publish via createspace or one other. Gerry A/C July 2015©
Friday 29th May 2015
In-between moments can be just as memorable as grand finales. This week, share a photo you took on the way to something else.
Thursday May 14th 2015
Just a day or two ago I finished writing a story, and have done a first read plus edit. This story was born way back in the 1970’s, it now consists of 80,000 words and 186 pages. I feel rather pleased with myself about this story in particular because it started off as just a few hand written pages in an old school exercise book.
I do not look at myself as writer because before all this came to life I wrote lyrics and songs on the guitar and poetry when alone, or on a train, I used to enjoy train journeys when a teenager. My writing started with lyrics for the odd chord structure which I liked, many of the lyrics I still have, including the old writing book I used. Scribbling’s everywhere, odd phrases, odd lines even complete verses with a chord sequence written with them. After years of absence I could not recall what I originally had in mind. I remember sitting on my bed looking out the window on a rainy stormy night, enjoying the storm, the lightning the thunder and shadows of the night. This particular night I wrote a poem called ‘Within the Darkness of Night’. It could also be a song lyric, but was written as a poem. I have included it in this post. I ask if you read it think of yourself walking lonely streets on a stormy night, with lightening in the distant sky and thunder clapping over head. You are squinting your eyes protecting them from the heavy rain. You are soaked to the skin, shivering and felt completely alone. Each corner you turn shadows jump out at you making you startle, strange sounds and lightening creating its imaginary beings. Your mind goes mad, you are thinking of many scary things. Enjoy!
Within the Darkness of Night!
The cat sleeps quietly, The street lights dim,
Everyone retires to bed, Except for the misfit.
The shadows of the night lurk, The owl hoots are scary,
Everyone shivers within their beds, Except for the misfit.
The wind howls through the trees, Swaying back and forth,
Everyone sleeps through the horrors, Except for the misfit.
River waters trickle quietly on, Sudden splash of jumping fish,
Everyone dreams of these beauties, Except for the misfit.
Swaying trees creak and squeal, Tall dark shadows are staring
Everyone is happy in their sleep, Except for the misfit.
Horrors of the darkness is his beauty, The lurking shadows of fear,
Everyone carries on sleeping, Except for the misfit.
The night speaks to us all, Sounds quiver through the air,
Everyone still sleeps merrily on, Except for the misfit.
Night drifts into day, all the beauty now deserts him,
Everyone awakes to this new day, Except for the misfit.
Tonight when you go for a walk, Listen to the night talking
Then HE can sleep peacefully, HE can only be the Misfit.
Gerry A/C © May 2015
So my point is, the more poems I wrote, the more lyrics I wrote the more imaginative my mind became, it was then the beginnings of my story ‘King of the Wood’ was born. I hand wrote the tale in my exercise book, over the years I added small snippets to include when the time came. That time in 2011, when I discovered ‘Nanowrimo’ so the first half of the story was put into words on my computer. It was with this story I completed my first of four Nanowrimo’s. After writing 4 complete novel length stories I still call myself a scribbler. So from now on I will be known as ‘The Scribbler’.
I still have three to edit, in truth it is actually only two I remember doing one already, one pass that is..’The Parchment’.
Thank you for your time!
Gerry A/C May 14th 2015©