As you may have gleaned already, I am an aspiring writer who has decided that it is high time he get a few stories off of his hard drive and into the wild world web. Please look under stories if you have an inkling of an interest – hopefully you will find something you like, and I will add more as time goes on. Everything is available as a post and also as a downloadable pdf, in case that kind of thing floats your boat.
I may even blog somewhere in the future, or add other things, but I promise nothing.
I wrote this story as an entry for a Chuck Wendig-initiated flash fiction comp on this cracking blog, terribleminds.com. 1000 words, title given. I just sneaked in at 2 words under the word count, and 2 and a half hours before the deadline.
pdf is here – The Blind Tattooist
The fair had left, and the field should have been empty. Only it wasn’t. Instead an old tent stood proudly, tiny in the vastness of the space.
A faded wooden sign stood in front of it:
Enter with an infinite maybes. Leave with a single certainty.
Andy stood unwilling outside the tent, his hand gripping the rain-slick canvas of the doorway. An indefinable wrongness fizzed in the air like radio waves.
“Go on, you’re not scared, are you?” called Lucy from a few steps behind.
That settled it. Couldn’t turn back now. Andy stepped across the threshold and allowed the canvas to fall closed behind him.
This story came to me during a completely non-writerly conversation at work. A colleague asked me if I had seen the BBC show The Night Manager. I said no, but I might be interested if it was about a guy who actually managed the night. Somewhere between that moment and the train home, the idea was pretty much complete in my head.
The pdf is here: The Night Watchman
Dusk was falling. Or, depending on your viewpoint, the night was rising. Henry Dalziel stood on the roof of his Greenwich apartment block. He could feel it coming. He could always feel it coming. He looked down at the streetlight-stained streets below, full of people crawling like ants.
They have no idea. They never have any idea.
A siren burst into life somewhere across the city. A distant howl, mostly echo, spectral.
They may know, but it still affects them. Still infects them.