Friday, 7 March 2014


Cutting holes through the morning sky,
and slithering,  unhurt, through grey tube
streets, the shoal invaded the concrete waters. Buildings bowed ungraciously, passing fearful dwellers onto the blood stained cobbles. People disguised as ghosts, flitted eerily across the smoke filled alleys, skimming past the felled and wounded, to claim asylum with the almighty. The morning gaiety of skipping children, replaced with the shrieks of gibbose wives and mothers, shielding their precious cargo from harm, as the frenzied shoal roared, basking in its fiery devastation. As the shoal retreated, and the weeping huddled masses, ventured once more into their future.

Monday, 3 March 2014


It had been 25 years since he'd been back to his old school. Tom Harding wasn't one for school reunions  but this had been planned for almost 6 months and his wife had pleaded for them to go.

Even as he approached, he was imagining happy times there,  the teachers who had pushed him to succeed,  the tiny bottles of milk they were given every morning,  with a red straw, so sharp it could draw blood.

He remembered those he'd sat alongside,  wondered what had happened to them, he remembered the first time he had saw Andrea,  the pretty brunette,  who had been his childhood sweetheart and who he'd married 10 years later and had 2 children with. They'd gone through the whole school in the same class,  and were inseparable.

As he entered the main door,  he saw the office and the kitchen serving hatch,  where he had once had five helpings of custard at lunchtime,  when one of the dinner ladies had gone round with a large copper jug of the thick,  sweet yellow delight.

He walked into the big hall,  where assemblies and lunch was taken,  not at the same time you understand, but the room was multi use in those days.

He looked about,  seeing faces he'd kept in touch with,  and some he half recognised,  but couldn't be certain about.

In the far corner smiling at him was his beautiful wife Andrea, her long wavy locks looking stunning in the lighting, wearing a long figure hugging black dress.
As he went to go over to her,  he was stopped by a short,  rotund woman,  who was clearly from the I'm in charge brigade, "and where might you be going Tom Harding? " she asked.

"Hi,  I'm sorry I don't recognise you, it's been quite some time and I'm getting on a bit now" he tried to laugh it off casually,  but inside felt embarrassed.

" I was hoping you'd remember me ", she replied "I'm Belinda Young, we were in the same class,  in our last year here, although I've grown a bit since then ", she awkwardly laughed at her own insecurities.

Tom still didn't recognise her,  but to be polite answered "Oh of course,  Belinda,  how have you been? " He glanced anxiously over to Andrea,  who was rolling her at eyes , as if to say "you got yourself into it., you get yourself out "

"I've been good thanks,  married three times , five kids, the usual. Here let me give you a name badge " with that Belinda wrote his name on a pre made paper badge and stuck it on his shirt.

"What do........", she was halfway through her sentence when she was interrupted by a tall guy,  wearing horn rimmed glasses.

 "Tom Harding as I live and breathe, how the hell are you,  it must have been 15 years, quick come and look at these photos "

" Dave, how are you mate,  it's good to recognise a face in here " He excused himself and wandered off with Dave

They were now in front of a wall,  festooned with photos of pupils. In one of them Tom, Dave and Andrea were in the hallway putting up Christmas decorations.

"That takes us back Tom hey?", Tom looked over despairingly at Andrea,  who was still stood alone among the crowd.

 "yeah it does Dave,  happy times "

"We'll have to get together soon,  without all these strangers ", Dave laughed out loud "I'm bloody clueless about most of them,. How Is Andrea anyway, is she coming tonight? "

Tom took one final glance at Andrea...

"No Dave, she's not......." he paused briefly ".........Andrea died last week."

Sunday, 2 March 2014

The Secret To Growing Old

Life can be tiring
But it can be fun as well
Love the fun times more

Search and Rescue

Despite the media coverage,  Claire Thomas still couldn't be found.

The slim,  blonde student had last been seen 24 hours ago,  being dragged, kicking and screaming into a white people carrier.

Police were searching the area around the scene without success.

12 miles away, PC Sam Bennett was walking through a nature reserve,  in the distance,  a white people carrier was parked,  hidden among the trees.

He looked about and saw the bloodied blonde hair of a woman lift up from the long grass. He could hear engine sounds coming from the direction of the nearby motorway, getting closer.

Without thought,  he ran as fast as he could towards the girl,  as he arrived he saw her haunted eyes staring back at him.

He reached down slowly,  and as her eyes pleaded for his help,  he ran the blade across her throat,  deeper than he'd done the first time.

Saturday, 1 March 2014

The Garden Killer

As he walked around the crime scene,  Ollie Burns was stunned.
Never had he seen such brutality. Splintered wood lay around, dustbin emptied of its contents, the smell of rotten food causing him to wretch.

In the corner of the garden,  the victim had been tossed aside,  stripped, her head had been hacked at, to the point of decapitation,  countless wounds,  oozed in warm scarlet pools.

This was a savage attack,  and very recent.

Behind him, a noise,  he lifted his gun and turned,  the killer stood,  eyes filled with hate,  a hunger that needed to be fed. The stranger charged,  but Ollie was ready. He pulled the trigger, and the killer fell, whimpering

He hated this part of the job,  he saved lives not took them,  but dangerous creatures had to be stopped. He had done that, the victim was gone but he'd served justice,  the wolf was dead.

Simple Rules Of War

Pick up your weapon
Fire at the enemy
Put away your guilt