Tuesday, 28 October 2014

A Taster of What's to Come

Did a little more work on the website and my titles, gone now is When Pigs Fly Does Mud Fall As Rain. The tales within are in a second edition of Rat Race Nights which now contains over forty short stories and prose pieces, and for the same great price!

I have also reinstated sales on Amazon and put up links to such, so follow the Amazon link on the website, or click here, and have a gander if you have a compatible device. If you prefer print, all titles are now also available there on paperback.

Finishing tweaks are being done to the Punisher novel, and I hope to have this up for sale at the start of November, so check back soon, taster below:

He walked slowly back to the van, hands behind his back, cradling the hammer, and the approaching footsteps from around the corner almost became a crescendo, although in reality, they were a mere pitter-patter. The blood was coursing to his head, the tension was becoming unbearable. She walked round the corner and away from him.

It wasn't her. It was a he, a middle aged man, wearing a rain jacket, even in this hot evening, with some bus company logo emblazoned on the back. Some man coming home from work at the bus company. The man was so engrossed with texting someone on a mobile that he had not even noticed the van, or him, or the fatal danger he may just have avoided.

As he receded in the distance, another sound of footsteps came along the lane. How fucking busy can the damn lane be at this time of night? He repeated his actions of before, walked up a bit, turned and began to move to the van again. As he drew close to the side door, it was her, this time, that reached the end of the lane and turn towards him. He felt like grinning, he was elated. His arms behind his back, baseball cap on his head, dark t-shirt and black jeans and trainers, he walked towards her red t-shirt and blue jeans. As he was almost within striking distance, something changed in her expression, a note of caution she felt, or something she noticed, a warning from a tingling sense that something was not right with this stranger coming towards her, at this time of night, in this way, in this location. It was too late. He swung the hammer, struck her above the right eye, she fell like a stone, no time to cry out, or raise an arm in defence.

He pushed the side door fully open, threw in the hammer, then hefted her stunned body, and practically threw her into the van.

A quick look up and down the street. No witnesses, no alarm bells, not even a dog barking anywhere. No curtains twitched either side of the street. He got in the back of the van with her, and slid the door closed. Although she was still groggy and unaware yet of her surroundings or danger, he lifted the hammer from where it had landed, placed it next to him, then grabbed the roll of gaffer tape, the first strip put over her mouth, quietened her moaning, then he rolled her over, grabbed her arms together, no resistance at all, and rolled the tape around her wrists several time. He did the same with her legs. The bag was still over her shoulder, trapped there now, but that didn't matter. When he was happy she was secure, he felt at her neck for a pulse, it was strong enough. He pushed her further back in the van so he could open the door and no one would see her if they happened a glance in. There was no danger of that though, the street was still empty. A quick rifle in her bag found her mobile phone, and switched it off. Another scout up and down the street, still clear, he secured the door, got in the driving seat and moved off slowly. The entire operation, he noted, from arriving at the kerbside, to leaving with his target, was seven minutes. That must be some kind of record.

(Read the rest of Punisher on release, available from November 2014 - check my website for the latest news).

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