I kill her. It is easy enough. I use my brother’s cricket bat, bringing it right down on her head as hard as I can. I use both my hands in order to maximise the force of my blow. I’m not taking any chances that she might survive.

I watch her blue eyes, bulge and widen as she realises what is happening, then squeeze shut with pain and finally roll back into her head as she collapses. A fountain of blood sprays from the wound on her temple, splashing onto my tee-shirt and face. That is the worst part, the feel of that warm sticky liquid running down my face.

I raise the bat, dripping blood, and hit her again. This time the bat strikes her in the middle of her forehead. The skin splits open like a smashed tomato and gushes blood. It runs into her eyes, turning the sockets into dark pools. I look at her and I feel nothing for what I have done. She is dead, and it wasn’t difficult to kill her.

I know I have to get rid of the body and I’m prepared. I had hidden a spade and a change of clothes in my tree house the prior day. I retrieve the spade and walk a bit further into the wood. I had previously identified a good spot for the grave and I start digging. It is hard work. Sweat trickles down my face and splashes onto my bare forearms. It is slightly pinkish in colour.

Finally the hole is deep enough for the small body. I grab her feet, one in each hand, and drag her to the hole, tipping her into it like a bag of rubbish. I shovel earth over her white flesh and pale pink dress. Stripping off my blood stained tee-shirt, I chuck it into the hole. I stamp the earth down as I bury her so that as much as possible fits back into the hole, cradling her in its dark embrace.

I return the spade to my tree house and wend my way to the stream. Its water is cool and clear as I rinse the remaining dried blood from my face and arms. I even dunk my head and swirl my long, dark hair around to ensure any traces of blood are washed away. I squeeze my hair as dry as possible and slip on my fresh tee-shirt. It’s time to go home. I’ve got homework to do for school tomorrow.

This piece of fiction was written for Carol J Forrester’s September Speculative Fiction Prompt. You can join in here: https://caroljforrester.com/2019/09/01/september-speculative-fiction-prompt/

What Amazon says

On the first day of May, 100 teenage boys meet for a race known as “The Long Walk.” If you break the rules, you get three warnings. If you exceed your limit, what happens is absolutely terrifying…

My review

I read this book [for the second time] with my eyes wide open as to its disturbing dystopian content. I have been reading Stephen King and Richard Bachman books since I was ten years old and I am well aware of the different writing intentions and outcomes between King writing as himself and King writing as Richard Bachman.

This book is exceedingly dark in a way the the King books cannot, in my view, ever match. The reason for this is that The Long Walk depicts a dystopian future world and circumstance that are horrifyingly possible.

The Long Walk is set in the not to distant future, in a world where the overpopulation and employment issues we are currently facing have not been addressed and there are [presumably] millions of young people who are facing uncertain futures in lowly paid and boringly competitive jobs. In order to distract the public from its largely miserable existence a national walking marathon has been introduced to amuse the masses. This annual walk, which is televised and attended by millions of spectators, involves a walk to the last man standing [i.e. the death] by 100 participating teenage boys. In much the same way as the Roman gladiators who entertained the crowds during the days of the Roman Empire, participants of the Long Walk are expected to die with the main difference in this being that the participant’s entering willingly and are young enough to effectively disbelieve in the reality of death.

The book centres around one main character, Ray, and his circle of acquaintances, which develop into deep friendships, over the course of the walk. The walk starts off with all of the boys believing in their own strength and abilities and filled with enthusiasm and tracks the breakdowns of their individual physical and mental health as the walk progresses. The disillusionment of early deaths due to unexpected complaints like charley horses, falls, nose bleeds and illness, are starkly and emotionally depicted as the reality of the proximity of death seeps into each boys mind.

I am most intrigued by dark psychological horrors and this book fits squarely into that category and I found the mental journey that Ray undertakes fascinating and chilling. The ending was appropriate although a bit unexpected for me. Possibly, deep in my mind, I still believe in happy endings and it is disturbing to discover that this is not always the case. If fact, in life, it is frequently not the case and that understanding hit me a bit like a club.

An excellent book which does not rely on the tools of supernatural mythology to make its point.

Purchase The Long Walk by Stephen King (Richard Bachman)

I am over at Sue Vincent’s lovely blog with a post about Dick Turpin and how he ties in to my new supernatural novel, Through the Nethergate. Thank you, Sue, for having me over for a visit.

The myth of Dick Turpin

Fiction writer, Harrison Ainsworth, glamourised thief and highway man, Dick Turpin, in his 1834 novel, Rookwood. The novel is set in England in 1737 at a manor house called Rookwood Place and the plot revolves around the mysterious death of the owner, Piers Rookwood, and the subsequent rivalry for inheritance of the property between his two sons.

During the course of the story, Dick Turpin, a highway man, is introduced at the manor under the pseudonym Palmer. During his stay, Palmer makes a bet with one of the other house guests that he can capture Dick Turpin. He is eventually forced to escape upon his horse, Black Bess. The horse, although fast enough to stay ahead of all the other horses, eventually collapses and dies from the stress of the escape.

Continue reading here: https://scvincent.com/2019/09/02/guest-author-robbie-cheadle-dick-turpin/

Helen liked her job. The dark was deep and intense down in the sandstone caves beneath the city, but the temperature was always constant. During the long winter months, she would happily stay down in the near darkness for hours, away from the freezing cold conditions above ground. She was given a tallow candle so that she could see enough to do her work.

Climbing down to the wells she was expected to clean wasn’t difficult as there were hand and footholds cut into the smooth walls. She was a good climber and always had been. It was one of the reasons she was selected for this particular job. The water was cold but it never froze and Helen was able to scrub away any accumulations of dirt in and around the well using a cloth and ash.

A picture of the foot and hand holds above the medieval wells in the City of Caves, Nottingham

In the distance she could see the gong man clearing out the cesspit. She was glad that she was far enough away not to smell the human excrement he were shoveling into buckets to be taken away and used as fertilizers by the farmers. It was a disgusting job and he had to leap down into the pit once its smelly contents were out of reach of his spade, and shovel it out from within the pit.

The water from the wells was owned by the wealthy individuals of the town, with the poorer people, like Helen’s family, having to get their drinking water from the river. Sometimes it froze over and they had to make a hole in the ice to get to the water or melt snow over a small flame. Fuel was scarce so obtaining water was the better option. The townspeople were careful not to pollute their drinking water and Helen thought it was funny that the drinking water in the wells was so near to a cesspit.

A picture of one of the ancient wells in the City of Caves, Nottingham

This post was written for Sue Vincent’s weekly photo challenge here: https://scvincent.com/2019/08/29/thursday-photo-prompt-frozen-writephoto/

After a fourteen day whirlwind tour of York, the Lake District, Dumfries, Oban, Skye, Inverness, Edinburgh, Durham and Nottingham, we flew home last night and arrived home at 9am this morning.

All I wanted to do was lie down on the couch and catch up on the entire night’s sleep I had missed out on during the plane trip, but that was not to be. We arrived home with an entire suitcase of dirty laundry which I needed to get going. We also had to unpack our extra suitcase of gifts, sort them out and give my parents their share of the loot. Michael was determined that Granddad would not miss out on anything we had bought with him in mind, even though some of the goodies had been pack in our main suitcase which contained the clothes I had managed to wash and dry in the few days prior to our departure.

Finally, at 12pm, I managed to go in search of than elusive couch only to discover the Terence had already taken up residence with his six mobile phones and was deep into his on-line strategy games which somehow require all these phones. I can’t understand how he wasn’t shattered as he did all the driving and it was an eight hour drive from Edinburgh to Notthingham via Durham and then another four and a half hours from Notthingham to Heathrow in rush hour Friday traffic. That man is a real hardy Scot.

I gave up on the couch and crawled into my bed only to discover that my overtired mind would not switch off and sleep. The cure – listen to an Agatha Christie audio book. No insult to Ms Christie, but her books do relax me and I nodded off quite quickly. Of course, Michael came to find me and cuddled up disturbed me and then Greg wanted eye drops which I had to get up and search for, but I did get a short rest. Enough to help me through the long afternoon of tumble drying all that washing.

This post was written for Linda G. Hill’s Saturday stream of consciousness challenge. You can join in here: https://lindaghill.com/2019/08/30/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-august-31-19/

What Amazon says

An autumnal stroll through the woods, colourful leaves crunching underfoot, the air fresh on the face, laughter and lightness portraying a happy mother and daughter scene. But something isn’t right…

A young boy who thought he knew his parents finds out that he doesn’t know them at all.

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to die and then to look down upon yourself?

These are just a few of the scenes and scenarios found in A Walk In The Woods and other short stories. There are stories to make you smile, tales to bring a tear and stories to shock as well as delight.

Following the success of The Siege and other award winning stories, penned under the name Esther Newton, Freelance writer, copyeditor and Writers Bureau tutor, Esther Chilton brings you her second short story collection. You’ll find plenty of prize-winning stories throughout, as well as some new tales to enjoy.

My review

A Walk In The Woods: and other short stories is an entertaining and intriguing collection that clearly demonstrates the extensive creative abilities of the author.

The stories cover a range of genres from those that relate the spectrum of human emotion to ghosts and the supernatural.

A walk in the Woods is a heart wrenching tale of human loss. My favourite description in the book is included in this story “She laughs, a melodious chuckle bubbling in her throat.”;

Jake sets out the anguish experienced by a boy whose mother is accused of murdering his father and who must come to terms with the reality of his father’s behaviour towards his family;

Book Lovers is a unique tale about obsessive compulsive behaviour and raises awareness that this condition may not be that unusual;

The Letter is a short peak into the sadness of dementia;

The Blue Balloon is a story of a mother’s anguish and hope’s vindication;

The Brat was one of my favourite stories in the collection. The tale of an older sibling’s journey towards discovering the joy of a new sibling;

The Strangest Parents on Earth is an entertaining science fiction story about acceptance and making the best of situations;

Dead is about abuse and retribution;

The Godfather is a story of the rescue of a boy that has been attacked and beaten with a most unusual twist;

The Battle is a story of bravery in the face of great adversity;

William is all about loss, fear, deception and forgiveness told from the perspective of a child;

Operation Flora gives the reader insights into the recognition of a serious life mistake and the path taken to rectify the error before it is too late;

A Walk in the Park is a delightful tale of love lost and found;

The Secret Diary of Marvin Martin aged 14 1/2 demonstrates how everything in life is not always as it appears from the outside;

The Lover is a fresh interpretation of the old saying “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”;

The Dark Place is an excellent depiction of the injustices of the past, particularly for women in a patriarchal world;

Home is about a care giver who despises her charges and must undertake her own journey to gain understanding of the inevitability of old age;

Spaceman Sam is most intriguing as this story could have had a much darker ending than it did. Mother’s need to keep an eye on their children and be disciplined about their time spent gossiping in public places;

If Only shares insights into the psychological complexities of arranged marriages for women who have lived in Western countries where people chose their own life partners; and

Gus was another favourite story of mine. It tell the tale of an elderly man who dies an accidental death and becomes a ghost. Having failed, in his opinion, to have achieved success in any area of living, Gus discovers that as a ghost he has a very special skill.

I highly recommend this excellent collection of different and well written short stories.

Purchase A Walk in the Woods: and Other Short Stories by Esther Chilton

I am delighted to announce that Through the Nethergate is available as an ebook from Lulu.com here: Lulu.com

It is also available from TSL Publications as a soft copy book here: TSL Publications

It will be available on Amazon in a few weeks time.

The blurb

Margaret, a girl born with second sight, has the unique ability to bring ghosts trapped between Heaven and Hell back to life. When her parents die suddenly, she goes to live with her beloved grandfather, but the cellar of her grandfather’s ancient inn is haunted by an evil spirit of its own. In the town of Bungay, a black dog wanders the streets, enslaving the ghosts of those who have died unnatural deaths. When Margaret arrives, these phantoms congregate at the inn, hoping she can free them from the clutches of Hugh Bigod, the 12th century ghost who has drawn them away from Heaven’s White Light in his canine guise. With the help of her grandfather and the spirits she has befriended, Margaret sets out to defeat Hugh Bigod, only to discover he wants to use her for his own ends – to take over Hell itself.

What Amazon says

Sizzling romance with steamy love scenes, also a must in her novels, but it’s the characters that make this a five star and a must-read. I laughed, I swooned, I gasped (totally didn’t figure out the murderer until Biggar revealed it), I cried. Highly recommend!
Amazon Reviewer

This is the first story I’ve read by Jacquie Biggar. It won’t be the last. TEMPTED BY MR. WRONG hits all the right romance notes
Amazon Reviewer

How can something so wrong, feel so right?

Falling for her step-brother is a mistake T.J. doesn’t want to repeat, but one look into those sapphire blue eyes and she’s ready to give Jason whatever he wants.

Tammy-Jo Hawthorne’s marriage was floundering, but she never expected her husband to make her the laughing stock of Magnolia.
And she definitely didn’t expect to trip over him in their front yard after he’d been murdered.

Jason McIntyre was forced out of his home and the love of his life by the man who’d haunted his nightmares for ten long years.
Now Jason’s back–and he wants revenge.

Related subjects include: cozy mysteries, women sleuths, murder mystery series, whodunit mysteries (whodunnit), amateur sleuth books, book club recommendations, humorous murder mysteries, women’s fiction.

My review

Tempted by Mr Wrong is another exciting book by Jacquie Biggar. Tammy Joe’s marriage to her father’s partner is in trouble and she ends up walking home from the local country club when he has her car towed away. Who should come to her rescue but her step brother, Jason, who broke off their relationship and disappeared ten years ago. Unbeknownst to TJ, Jason’s actions were at the instance of her over-protective father, against whom Jason has borne a grudge ever since.

Jason picks up TJ walking home in the rain and gives her a lift home from the country club. He happens to still be in the vicinity when she trips over her dead husband in the back yard.

Naturally, as the humiliated wife, TJ is the prime suspect in her husband’s murder and Jason becomes involved to help her out and keep her safe. The attraction that the two shared is still disturbingly real and it creates confusion for both of them, especially as Jason’s presence in Magnolia is not as innocent as he has made out to his mother and step sister. He is living a lie.

Jason soon starts to discover that things are not entirely as they seem with his step father, who he has hated consistently for years, and his mother, who is suffering from dementia.

There is a bit more sex in this book than in previous books by this author that I have read, but it works and is tastefully written. The book has a dual focus with one being the rediscovery by TJ and Jason of their strong feelings towards each other and the other being the murder of TJ’s husband and her father’s business involvement with him.

This book is a fast past murder mystery with an intense romantic sub-story which I thoroughly enjoyed.

Purchase Tempted by Mr. Wrong

What is the most difficult part of your artistic process?

This is an intriguing question which I can only answer if I first break down what I think my own writing process is.

I have only published one young adult book, While the Bombs Fell, and I have recently finished a much longer work for a young adult audience, Through the Nethergate. I am currently working on a novella called A Ghost and his Gold which is set during the Second Anglo Boer War in South Africa and the first book in a trilogy about a world in the throes of climate crisis and the fallout from the fourth industrial revolution.

My writing process for WTBF was rather experimental as it was the first longer and more complicated story I attempted. It involved a lot of historical research which was enjoyable but time consuming. I learned a lot about developing a historical timeline of real events first and then fitting your story around it so that the timing all works correctly. I only realised that I need a historical timeline after I had finished the first draft of the book so I took me a lot of time and effort to go back and turn the entire story around and remodel it onto the historical timeline. I’ll never forget this lesson, that I can promise. I also learned a lot about dialogue and showing not telling as I have previously written non-fiction books which have a different writing style.

I carried my learning experiences from WTBF through to TTNG up front so the structure and flow of this book was much smoother from the beginning. That made my writing experience easier and quicker. The developmental edits for this book were much smaller from a structure and story line point of view, and more around a developing emotion and showing rather than telling perspective. Another steep learning curve.

With my two WIPs I have had a good idea of the basic story outline up front and have fleshed it out as I go along. I research each new section as I write it which is why my word count rarely exceeds 1 500 words in one sitting as the research is time consuming and I check to a number of sources for factual accuracy.  I am doing my best to show and not tell and build in the emotion and description as I go along. I wonder what my new developmental editing points will be?

Going back to the question as to what is the most difficult thing for me in the artistic process, it is getting the detail and emotion into the story in a compelling way. The facts need to be conveyed in and interesting and natural way that fits in with the characters and the story and this is hard work and requires effort and deep concentration for me.

The front flap of the tent was tightly closed. Mrs De Wet opened it and gestured to them to enter. Marta’s first impression was of neatness despite the dim lighting and stuffiness inside the tent. A smell of sickness and impending death hung in the oppressive air.

A women in her thirties knelt on the floor next to a makeshift mattress. Her small son lay on the mattress, weak and frail. His face was flushed with fever and he had a hacking cough.

“I’m trying to keep him warm,” the mother said, by way of explanation for keeping the flap closed. “He is shivering with cold.”

“What is wrong with him?” asked Marta. She already knew but she needed to be sure. Her whole being shrank away from what she already feared.

“He has influenza. There are a couple of hundred cases of illness in the camp right now, a mixture of influenza, bronchitis and enteric catarrh. There had been some dust storms lately which the camp doctor thinks is causing more respiratory illnesses.”

Marta looked at Sannie, aghast. Their two families and their house servants had always lived a rural life and had little immunity to such illnesses. It was bad enough to deal with the multitude of biting insects and vermin but how could they deal with this?

A few moments later, Mrs Smit entered the tent with her children. She laid the dead body of her baby down on a blanket. The child had drawn its last breath while she was speaking to the Camp Commandant. He had given her directions to the children’s graveyard. She dropped into a seated position on the hard ground and sat there, rocking herself to and fro, and keening softly. Her worn and seemingly bloodless body was that of an old woman and her large eyes in her white face were wild and haunted. The death of her infant on top of the recent losses of her oldest son and toddler seemed to have broken something deep within her mind. It was frightening to watch.

Needing to escape the cloying confines of the tent and the overwhelming anguish of the mother of the dead baby and the mother of the seriously ill boy, Marta went for a walk around the camp, stopping to speak to the other women.

This piece has been posted for Sue Vincent’s weekly write photo prompt. I am desperately trying to finish my novella, A ghost and his gold, about the Second Anglo Boer War. Those of you who read this blog regularly will know that I find it hard to tear myself away from my most recent writing undertaking. That is why I often weave prompts into my latest story idea as I have done here.

You can join in here: https://scvincent.com/2019/08/08/thursday-photo-prompt-within-writephoto/