Writing | Photography | Proofreading
“Wow, Look at the expression in his eyes. Pure evil. It’s just like looking through the gates of hell!” My boss, consultant Robin Titchbairn, was frowning and shaking his head as his practised fingers slid shut the lids over the staring dead eyes of the man who had abducted, raped and killed five women. “You…
“There! Four crows on the wall. I told you!” “How on earth do you do it?” As we were driving along the country road we passed the four cawing crows on top of the red-brick wall, the exact same picture that had appeared in my mind’s eye a few seconds before we’d seen it. “I…
“AAAAGH!” Hubert yelled as I kicked him in the balls, and then I gave him a jab in his eye with one of my long nails. “NO, means NO!” I told him, secretly proud of my unarmed combat training coming to my rescue when I was alone with this predatory man. “I normally never tell…
Lily bashed the top of her husband’s coffin with her fist as she passed, muttering viciously: “You bastard, may you rot in hell for ever!” Lily paused for a moment, backing off a bit and putting her hands on the timber lid and leaning forwards, as if she was contemplating wrenching off the top of the…
“Sorry Dan we’ve got to let you go.” “But why? What have I done?” “Well, nothing at all really, that’s the point. You’re bone idle. You’re a nice bloke, everyone likes you. But we employ you to sell advertising space for a newspaper and you’ve been here six months, and you haven’t sold a thing. …
When I married you I had no idea you were such a wet bastard,” Tracey fumed. “I thought you had some get up and go.” “So did I. I think it got up and went.” Another day, another row. While my wife Tracey droned on and on I tried to think about something else, mainly…
“You’re telling me that the cottage is cursed?” I said in amazement. “Well, of course not. All I can tell you is that I’ve been an estate agent in this village for twenty years and we’ve sold Honey Cottage fifteen times. Nobody wants to live there.” “But what do you mean, it’s cursed?” He sighed. …
When the partly buried World War Two bomb blew up, all I was aware of was the flash of brightness and the beginnings of a roaring sound. After that I was out like a light. I suppose I was dreaming, Or maybe the reminiscences came in those gaps between dreams when your thoughts are awry…
“Either we get five million by this time next week or your wife dies. It’s your choice.” My hand was shaking as I replaced the receiver. The voice on the phone had been neutral, cold, business-like. I knew he wasn’t bluffing. My wife, Ann Gillibrand Smythe, hadn’t returned home last night, which is unlike her,…
“No, don’t worry, he doesn’t suspect a thing,” my wife Tracy said to the man. “We can meet up this weekend while the old sod is away on business. The boring old fart is so stupid he has absolutely no idea what I get up to.” I gulped as I held the phone to my…