Here's lookin at you kid...

Here's lookin at you kid...
The eyes are the windows to the soul...

Friday, 21 May 2010


I'd like to introduce you to the first Werewolf in my book 'Deadlier'

"Fuck this," he growled, "you need a fright to get you going!"

With that, he let go of her coat and stood upright, away from her and the wall that he had been trapping her against. He half hoped she would try to make an attempt at escape now that he had let her go.

His full height of six feet, two inches was impressive, as was his body which was sleek and toned under his silk shirt. Her eyes were locked on his as his entire face began to alter. The skin and muscles were independent of the bone structure beneath yet were following the same path. His features rippled as his skin then began to change its texture. He knew what he looked like, he'd spent time practicing this - just like a wanna-be pop star does.

Though rather than dancing around the bedroom with the obligatory make-believe microphone, he had instead watched his own transformation. He had studied this process, studying his own face in the mirror countless times until he had perfected this elaborate and terrifying metamorphosis. He had worked hard for each of his victim’s benefit, making their ordeal as shocking as possible – after all, it would be their last experience.

His forehead changed and flattened - as did the slope of his cranium - the hairline moving forward. At the same instant, his mouth began to protrude from his face, bringing the nose with it and elongating his jaw. The teeth moved by themselves to fill the new jaw, they became longer and pointed – a visible and lethal sharpness as his lips drew back from them. His hairline was continuing forward - like water burbling over shale - down his face, changing texture as it enveloped skin. It passed over his jaw line and down his throat on into the open collar of his shirt. His eyes turned from dark brown to preternatural yellow as the hair sprouted along his lengthened nose. Then as the transformation of his face had finished, his tongue, glistening with saliva, touched the tip of one front fang in a final and theatrical gesture.

The face of the full moon watched over this horrifying tableau and still the woman’s gaze never faltered.

He stood still and quiet for a moment and then, pride and arrogance gleaming in his eyes, continued to set the scene for her.

"I need no introduction; you can see exactly what I am. I belong with the dark terrors that reside in the back of your mind. I am the embodiment of what you humans hope does not exist and try to convince yourselves so, yet still fear is real. I am a Werewolf! My kind have inhabited your stories and nightmares for centuries, you delight in the telling and re-telling of stories which scare you to death and what happens when you encounter such a being? Do you revel in the experience? No, you scream and plead and beg for it not to be so. Well, I fulfil my part of the bargain; I want you to honour your part. All you need to do is make a break for it; your flesh will taste so much better if you pump adrenalin into it." His voice sounded deeper because of his distorted vocal chords.

Thursday, 20 May 2010

One more taster...

A man and a woman arrived at the bar just as Red turned back around. Claire spoke to Red before she did the couple, as she knew Red had been waiting, albeit with her back to the bar.

“Oi! We were here first!” The woman shouted at Claire. Then it was Red’s turn to raise her eyebrow in surprise. “You fucking served her before us last time!” She continued her tirade.

Again, Red shrugged, combined with a gesture that said to serve them first – just for the sake of peace, but Claire didn’t suffer fools gladly. The man barked his drinks order at Claire “Bottle of Bud, Vodka ‘n’ Coke, two Aftershocks!”

“Please.” Claire helped him with his manners. In answer he sneered at her.

Claire arrived back with a bottle for Red before getting their drinks, but Red was still watching the dancing, only half-aware of the fuss at the side of her. Claire tapped Red’s shoulder with the bottle and turned to get Mr & Ms No-manners their order. Red had her hand in her front pocket getting the money out for when Claire got back when the woman at the side of her said to her boyfriend “That arrogant bitch needs pulling down a peg or two!”

Red glanced in their direction as he nodded his agreement. Claire handed them their drinks and took a tenner from him. She collected Red’s money at the same time. Claire watched astonished as the woman tipped her drink down Red’s arm.

The first Red realised of this was that her arm was cold and wet. Red was incredulous as she looked at her dripping arm, then at the woman. She could see by the look on her face that it was no accident.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” The woman said, jerking her head forward with blunt aggression.

Red turned her whole body to face her, she was cool and calm as she switched the bottle from her right to her left hand. She looked again at her wet arm then brushed the liquid from it with her right hand. She brought it up again as if to repeat the motion but instead she snapped her hand back to catch the woman a back-hander across her mouth. The woman staggered a couple of steps towards the dance floor and her boyfriend didn’t miss a beat and punched Red in the face. He caught her below the eye, just on the top of her cheekbone.

Red dropped the bottle and grabbed hold of his throat with her left hand. Her right hand was pulled back, claws already replacing fingernails; instinct was too close to the surface because of the alcohol and caution was abandoned. The music didn’t stop but the dancing did, or at least it moved away from where the trouble was starting. The toes of the man’s shoes were now barely touching the floor. Both hands were scrabbling on Red’s hand, trying to break her grip. His eyeballs were starting to protrude. The doormen had responded to Claire hitting the panic button and were running in. Red registered all of this yet she was taking no notice of it. She was just ready to strike with her right hand when…

Saturday, 15 May 2010


This is an excerpt from Deadlier.

She stood with her back to the closed doors of the club; it was very late, almost three in the morning. The last punters of the evening had been persuaded to leave through those same doors less than twenty minutes before her. She asked herself, not for the first time; why did she work here of all places? Her feet hurt and she was forever on a knife-edge, waiting for the next incident to go off. Her weekends were never her own and her sleep patterns were shot to pieces and that was after only a month of working at the night-club.

As she looked around, she saw that a prominent police presence was very obvious in the hope that by being there they could prevent the majority of fracas. Paramedics were also in abundance, in case the preventative measure was not enough. The two groups of professionals were the only visibly sober people in the vicinity and they were vastly outnumbered by drunken civilians.

She knew that the market place of this medium sized town would be bustling with late-night revellers, queuing for a late night snack at the burger vans, waiting for the Night Bus or a taxi or just walking home. The weekend started a few hours ago for most of these people and they seemed intent on making the most of it.

The sky was crystal clear, sprinkled with stars and accompanied by the luminous glow of the full moon, giving a stark, sharp feel to objects and shadows alike. The streets were filthy and littered with debris from the multitude of fast food outlets which flanked the clubs and pubs. She decided as she gazed up at the moon that she didn’t want to have to mingle with the drunks when she was sober. She had had enough of them for one evening and so on impulse she went against going the shortest route to her car and took the road less travelled.

Looking both ways, up and down the street, she dodged in front of a slow moving taxi and crossed over at a trot, bearing right. As the majority of the crowds continued straight on towards the hill down to the market, she swung left at the corner where only a small minority were walking. Even so close to the crowds still milling about on the street behind her, she felt an instant ease with the change of pace. She walked fast, overtaking a small group of young men who she remembered being at the same club where she had been working.

“G’night love!” One of them shouted as she had passed, his reactions delayed by the alcohol he had poured down his throat in the few hours he had been out. She didn’t turn back but shouted a cheerful “Goodnight” and waved her hand at them. She walked down the slope, alongside the high and curved retaining wall which supported the railway embankment. The alternative way she had taken was peaceful and she was calming down after the stress of being on the lookout for trouble all the time at the club. Once around the corner and out of sight of the group still behind her, she cut right, taking an unusual route up through an isolated car park which led nowhere at this time of night. In the darkness caused by absence of any working street lights, the moon’s glow cast deeper shadows than the sun and blanched the colour from everything, but the tranquillity she found only added to her calm.

Looming above the car park was the ancient and sturdy brick arches which made up the viaduct for the railway, she once again gazed up at the moon gleaming above the brickwork. Her attention was diverted by movement to the left of her focus. Some fool was playing about on the railway lines, perhaps fulfilling a drunken dare. She figured that unless he was unlucky and fell, he should be ok because the passenger trains didn’t run this late. The only thing he’d have to watch out for was the freight trains which ran all night, albeit at a slower pace. Still, it was not her problem.


As some of my FB friends will already know, I wrote a book and I'm now at the stage where I'm ready for it to be published - even if Agents and Publishers aren't.

Because of my impatient persona (I'll never change) I have decided to take this down the Self Publishing route. I have a number of people to thank for helping me out here.

Trev - Of course, my support for decades now.

Marianne - For constant encouragement - we shall meet up one day, I promise.

Nick - For pointing me in a few directions - some good, others not so good but all with learning curves and that's always a good thing.

Netti - Proof reading and sourcing artwork etc.

Right, before I start to sound like I'm accepting an Oscar, I'll leave off, but I'll be adding thanks as and when necessary.

More later,