Author: Michael

Husband, dad,(ex)programmer, comic collector and proud Yorkshireman. I have no idea why im here or why im writing but i rather enjoy it. no great fan of punctuation;

Slingers – Part 1

I might give this a second part…

Part 0 can be found here

Dee sipped her tea from a mug and stared out of the window towards the old Victoria station.  The rain was falling, as was it’s tendency most days these days, and though it was the middle of the day the skies were dark and neon bathed the streets.

Once one of the destinations at the heart of London’s transport network, Victoria was now little more than a dirigible mooring station, the once endless stream of trains now a thing of the past and long replaced by the overland maglev’s than sprawled across the city and onwards to all corners of the country.

“You going to eat that?” Drax said motioning to Dee’s bacon sandwich.  It had been a long night bringing in Carlo and he was still rather peckish.

Dee shook her head as she watched the swarms of delivery drones buzz high above street level and disappear into the mists that covered the tops of the hab zones.

“I don’t like this Drax, not one bit.  It’s going to get us killed.”  She said watching the rain run down the window of the small café.

“Or” he said taking a large bite of the sandwich  “or it could make us rather rich Dee.”  

“It could make us rather dead more likely.”

“I will have you know that no one kills Drax the destroyer Dee, no one.”  Said Drax with a mouth full.

Dee rounded on him.  He was damn good at his job, and unnervingly lucky, but he was also incredibly annoying when it came to anything other that killing.

“Bloody hell must you persist with that ‘destroyer’ nonsense.  As if Drax isn’t stupid enough a name already, you really don’t need a nick name to compound it.  And stop talking with your mouth full.”

“Do you think I should buy a cape” Drax asked,ignoring everything Dee had said and finish off the sandwich.  “maybe something in crushed purple velvet?”

Dee sighed and looked back out of the window as a black taxi cab dropped down out of the mist and hovered just above the ground picking up a fare.  A think man in a dark coat scurried through the rain and jumped inside before it shot skywards again.  Turning back to Drax she took another sip of her tea.

“For one” and she raised a finger, “This is a recovery job.  Hardly our thing given that we are not required to kill anybody.”

Drax nodded and shrugged.

“I’m adaptable.”

“Two, we have no idea where she is and we need to somehow recover her from the Zentras.  Now the last time I checked they still controlled most of the north bank and are not to be messed with.  Why would you want to do this.”

Drax grinned and Dee knew this was not going to end well.

“Did I mention that we would will make a ton of money?  The sort of money that you need Dee.  Now what’s the worse that could happen?”

Dee knew that the worse that could happen was likely considerably worse that she could imagine.   The Zentras controlled everything from Battersea to the Black wall tunnel and were not to be taken lightly.  They ran every racquet imaginable and then some and they loved their bio-augmentations which made them particularly problematic when coupled with their maniacal obsession with such ridiculous notions as honour and family.

“I don’t like messing with the aug’s any more than you do Dee but there’s a kid out there that needs to be found and I might actually have a way to get us a bit of intel.  What do you say?”

For the briefest of moments Dee almost believed Drax’s sincerity.

“Exactly what intel might this be then?”

“My sister, she’s well in with…”  Drax never got to continue.

“Are you kidding me?” Dee exploded.  “After last time?  Drax why is she any less likely to try and kill you now than she was before?”

Drax smiled broadly and winked.  “She’s Zen now Dee,  Zen don’t kill family…”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Diet o’clock 8th of October

This week there was curry.

I haven’t posted about this for a while have I.  To be fair I haven’t really posted much for the last three weeks on my blog generally.

Work and life and just general stuff got in the way of writing so I put writing on hold and with that it seems I did the same with my diet.  This is not to say that I blew it, I didn’t, but I did not have the same rigour I had had previously.  Where I may have had a salad before I now had a salad sandwich.  Where I would have had a diet coke I had a couple of Guinness and oh, there was that day when I ate all the kids pepperami’s and told each of them the other had eaten them and then berated them both for lying.   Little buggers.

I did discover that I really like Guinness too though I don’t know why I never tried it before.   Perhaps it’s because I prefer my drinks brightly coloured with umbrellas and Guinness seems such a manly drink to me.  If you were going to get into a fight and had the choice of having a Guinness or a strawberry daquiri as back up it would be Guinness every time.  Guinness probably did karate when it was younger and is a bit lively in a scrap outside of a kebab shop at 2 in the morning.  Not that daquiri doesn’t have it’s place, but it’s more of a bitchy cat fight and a good hair pull.

Anyway, whilst I do love the whole 30 thing it does require you to shop and cook properly and if you let things slip and the fridge runs low it is pretty hard to stay on track.  I’ve started shopping twice a week to prevent that happening and am now just about back on track.

Oh apart from yesterday when I went to this little place that sells South African stuff an ended up stuffing my face with Tomato Fritos which you cannot get over here.  Actually, England has a real dearth of tomato flavoured things in general.

Let’s see how the next week goes shall we.  I am still about 33 pounds down on where I started three months ago so still happy with that.

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I’ve made my calls…….. — suziland too or obsolete childhood

I’ve phoned my senators until their staff all know my voice and say “good morning Mrs. H, what can we do for you now?”…I’ve written letters to the editor, to the senate (yes, ALL of them), I’ve sat in offices waiting to speak to the idiot that was elected…..I’ve been escorted out of those very […]

via I’ve made my calls…….. — suziland too or obsolete childhood

Finish the story – #11

Been meaning to get to this forever. Sorry for my tardiness…

Welcome to Finish the Story

The Haunted Wordsmith started a story, tags someone to pick up the story and add to it, then hand it off to another person, etc., until the story is complete. This has proven to be quite fun in a blogging situation since we all have different approaches.

Rules–

1 Copy the story below as it appears when you receive it (and the rules please)

2 Add somehow to the story in which ever style and length you choose

3 Tag only 1 person

4 If you choose to not participate or finish the story, please comment/tag this post so that The Haunted Wordsmith knows.

The Private Detective

One of the first lessons Eric learned the hard way after leaving the force and going into business for himself was to never ask the client why they wanted his services. The less he knew, the better it was for everyone. Something about this case, and the creepy man who hired him last week, just didn’t sit right though.

As he sat in the old blue Buick flipping through his notes, he saw her coming down the step of the opera house. He snuffed out his fifth camel and started the car. She was all dolled up in a victorian get up. Looked like something out of an H.G. Wells movie. Eric watched as she crossed the street, entered the park, and hailed a carriage.

“Shit!” He couldn’t follow her in the car through the park.

The carriage turned the corner and …

A Guy Called Bloke

… and disappeared from his view!

“Buggerations!” Eric snorted as he quickly got out of the car and hop, skipped and jumped his way across the street into the park. He could just see the end of the carriage as it made its way merrily across the lawn tracks!

As Eric chuffed along behind the carriage, he was becoming more and more startled as he saw smoke billowing from the top of the carriages’ roof, “What on earth?” Eric thought.

After only a few minutes, the carriage came to a standstill beside the fountain of Silver Waters, and she stepped out. Eric quickly hid behind a man selling balloons! He saw her talk to the driver, who doffed his hat and moved the carriage forwards by fifty or so feet before coming to a standstill again.

He watched Vicky [he had called her this because of the garb she had been wearing when he first caught sight of her. He didn’t know her name, Mr Creepy hadn’t passed on that nugget of information, so Vicky would have to do for the time being] walk up to the fountain, and as she approached from within her bulky skirts she withdrew a large bottle of something. The contents he could see were bright green almost luminous!?

“What on earth??” Eric gasped!

Vicky stopped in front of the fountain of Silver Waters and seemed to be speaking to the statue on the top, a funny looking gargoyle [l know, who would have thunk it?] and as she did so, the statue moved and so spake back in a kind of sing song accent and turned  and looked at the balloon seller – who was already becoming quite twitchy as he didn’t usually have another man quite this close to him when hiding!

Suddenly the balloon seller disappeared in a plume of green smoke with silvery tinges and Eric saw the balloons take flight to the skies!

“Blimey! That’s burst my bubble of disguise!” Eric thought, “Now what?”

Meanwhile Vicky and the gargoyle were looking directly at Eric and seemed to be speaking in the language of the elephant shrew [Eric knew this as his Son was studying the very same language in the elephant shrew school – l know how freaky as a coincidence is that?] As Eric tried to look as inconspicuous as possible which was somewhat difficult in his bright yellow zoot suit, Vicky and the gargoyle were speaking rather fast now and as they were doing so, the air around them cracked, and groaned, and creaked – yes creaked! The more Eric looked the more he could see wrinkles appearing before his eyes, the air seemed to be visible, the atmosphere was heavy, was that a portal opening, and was that another Vicky stepping out, was that another Vicky stepping out, was that another Vicky stepping out?

Eric closed his eyes for a moment thinking alternative reality and feeling somewhat faint and when he opened them again …

… he sat on his old Harley flipping through his ipad, he saw her coming down the step of the museum. He snuffed out his twenty second Marlboro and started the Harley. She was all dolled up in a Gothic get up. Looked like something out of an old, well Gothic movie. Eric watched as she crossed the street, entered the zoo, and hailed a camel.

“Chocolate Smarty Cake!” He couldn’t follow her on the bike through the zoo.

The camel turned the corner and Eric thought, Thunder Pants and then he ….

The Britchy One

…..started to feel very giddy. What was going on? He was uncoordinated, disorientated and sank slowly to his knees as he lost consciousness.

He woke with an IV in his arm Ina hospital bed. A nurse was busy with a chart and it took her a minute to realise he was awake.

“Welcome back! You had us all worried for a bit there!” She chirruped. “What happened?” asked Eric “I’ll see if the doctors here to see you” she replied, neatly avoiding his question as she sashayed out of the room. Eric noticed wryly that her scrubs fit in all the right places – obviously he wasn’t too out of it!

He looked around, bored. The room was a bland, beige, instantly forgettable room with a stunning view of a solid brick wall six feet away. If you weren’t sick before you would be after a couple of hours here he thought.

There was a peremptory knock on the door. Before Eric could respond and officious looking man in a bespoke suit walked in. His shoes looked expensive. Handmade burnished Italian leather glowing as only shoes polished by a valet could. His apparel and demeanour screamed upper class like the foghorn on a cross channel ferry.

“So you’re awake” he barked in a short staccato burst of verbal gunfire. “Do you know who you are?” “Yes of course I do”said Eric giving his full name “Why am I here and where are my clothes?”.

“All in good time my man, you were brought in without any identification two days ago. You were dehydrated and had concussion. Let’s get some details shall we? He proceeded to ask Eric’s full address, profession and if he knew what day of the week it was, what year it was and other questions Eric presumed were to assess his cognition. “What happened do you remember?” the man concluded.

Eric’s Mind was a blur. Full of bizarre dreams – or were they?

“I don’t really know” he admitted. “Do you know why you were in the park?” I was following someone on orders from a client.”

The man leaned forward quivering “Ahh and what do you know of this client? he purred.

Just as Eric was about to answer there was a knock at the door. A short tired looking Indian man shuffled in. “Hello I’m sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Doctor Raina”

Wait! exclaimed Eric turning to look at the first man “If this is the doctor then who are you?”….

Mel Gutiér

Just at that moment, everything froze around Eric except for the elegant stranger who seemed familiar to him now. Eric’s mouth opened wide.

“I’m the Time Keeper. You have something of mine. Do you remember what it is? You’ve been jumping from time to time, wandering. It will take you some time, but you’ll remember.”

“What are you talking about? How are you doing all this?”

“Damn! You’ve gone in too deep. I tried explaining it to you. You didn’t give me enough time. You just had to run after her, didn’t you? They’re going to kill you if they find you, you know that?”

“Time Keeper?”

“Eric… you don’t remember the vault? You don’t remember the lock breaking and Lydia disappearing? You don’t remember taking the compass from my office? Eric… you’re in danger and I need the compass back to find Lydia.”

“Stop! You’re a mad man! You’re the devil!”

“You don’t even remember my name, do you?”

“Fuck you!”

Lost and confused, Eric got out of the bed, pushed the stranger aside running out of the room. He became dizzy as he tried walking passed the still figures in the hallway. Indeed, time had stopped somehow. Everyone in the hospital had stopped in their place, their space. The elegant stranger ran after Eric hopeful that he would wake up to full memory. He needed that compass.

“Eric!”

“Leave me alone! I don’t know anything about a compass!”

“I can help you! Just stop for a moment! Let me help you!”

Eric ran outside and stopped in his tracks. He was stupefied. The air seemed to be missing and nothing was moving. Birds locked in midair, sound in a vacuum, a single leaf traveling to the ground was floating still before him. All living things stood motionless before him, as if wax figures stood in their place. Even the motionless buildings looked different, shifted somehow and he noticed a curtain in one of the houses stopped outside its window as if held out by an invisible string, the dead wind. How was this possible? Somewhere in his head a familiar connection began to emerge. He knew something about this magic, but it was still a blur.

“I’m Logan. I’m your Time Keeper. You’re a time traveler. We try to set things right in the world.”

The elegant stranger, a stranger no more, put his hand on Eric’s shoulder. Eric’s breath was heavy, and his mind was racing in the still of time. Something began to stir in him as he turned to look at Logan. His breath grew stronger and he broke down in tears.

“Lydia!” He gasped.

“Yes! You’re remembering! It’s okay… it takes time. You’ve been through a lot. You’ve traveled for months looking for her, chasing the wrong woman. I had to get you to stop somehow. This was the only way.”

“What?”

“The institution, the visions. The client.”

“The client… he has your compass.”

“No! What did you do?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know. Oh God!”

“That was no client, Eric! Do you realize what they’re capable of doing with that compass! If they have Lydia, if they touch her… Eric! You have to remember where that client is. We have to get that compass back!”

Eric looked at Logan, took one last breath and disappeared. Logan fell to his knees as everything came back to normal. Movement… time resumed, but Eric was gone… again.

 

Michael @ Afterwards

Eric watched the tea lap against the edge of the mug as he dropped in another cube of sugar with a reassuring ‘plink’.  His mother had always said what when in doubt sit down and have some tea, preferably in a cup and saucer, and it will help to put things into perspective.

Unfortunately the diner didn’t have any saucers, or decent china cups for that matter, so he settled for a plain white mug of something approaching a loose description of tea and some silent introspection.

A large breasted, friendly faced waitress walked over and asked him if he was ready to order.  Eric shook his head.

“No thanks, just the tea will be fine thank you.”

“Suit yourself darlin, you let me know if you change your mind now'” she said with a wink and a smile and sauntered back over to the long counter that ran the length of the room.  He continued to watch as she took a pot of coffee and filled a cup for herself.

Returning to his thoughts Eric took a sip of his tea and considered recent events, not least how he had ended up in the diner, fully clothed and with a pocket full of cash.  As diners do it was a nice enough place, stereotypically so in fact with just the right amount of plaid shirted trucker looking types, chequer board flooring and a good selection of pies.

He searched his memories but could not remember how he had got here.  Staring out of the large window into the half full car park beyond he stirred the tea again, allowing fragments of memories to come back to him.  The spoon swirled through the hot dark liquid as mysterious strangers compelled him, gaping hospital gowns left him feeling rather exposed and the smoking of rather a lot of cigarettes left him feeling that perhaps some life changes might well be in order.

The memories were jumbled and overlapping, nothing seemed to be in the right place and everything seemed to contradict itself.  There was also a most uncomfortable feeling that he had lost something and really needed to find it.

He looked up as the waitress walked past again and smiled.  He smiled back and noticed her name badge.

‘Lydia’.  Nice name he thought…

Tagging: Dorinda @ Night Owl Poetry

 

 

 

Brimstone Brew – Room 101

This is very much just a beginning…

These things tend to be short pieces that may or may not be the beginning of something else. I try to do them in 101 words but sometime not.  .  The prompt was ‘Brimstone Brew’

With the full moon peering cautiously through the dark clouds Cassandra pulled her cloak tight around her shoulders and stirred the small bubbling pot slowly.

“Needs more eye of newt” said Serano stepping from the shadows. 

“And looks a little light on ragwort too” added Evanora as she alighted from her broom with all the grace and experience of a woman of her two hundred years.  “Hubble bubble indeed” she continued reaching into inside her cloak and pulling out a small pouch.  “ I have some if you’re a little short.”

Cassandra sighed and put down the heavy wooden spoon.

“Ladies, it’s only coffee.  There really is no need to be so dramatic.”

Evanora sniffed the brew as she took a seat at the small wooden table.  “Milk, no sugar please.”

“Someone’s in a mood I see” said Serano taking a seat opposite Evanora.

Cassandra flicked her wand and the pot lifted effortlessly into the air, filling there large cups with the steaming dark liquid and a flourish sent the cups floating over to the table and the pot placed itself back over the fire.  Cassandra took a seat and reached for one of the cups  “Help yourself to milk and sugar.”

As Cassandra took the first sip of her drink Evanora looked over at her and then leaned forward, her eyes bulging more than usual and her crooked nose twitching. “Have you done something to your face Cassie, you look different.”

Cassandra shook her head and stared into her cup.

“She has she has” exclaimed Serano leaning over to get a better look.  “Oh my giddy aunt” she continued.  “Where are your nose warts Girl?  By Methuselah’s beard what have you done to yourself?”

Being a good hundred years younger than the others Cassandra was used to them treating her like a child.

“It’s nothing really” she muttered still refusing to look up. 

Evanora pushed her coffee to one side.  “Nothing? Nothing?  My girl, a nose warts are very much part of who she is.  You cannot just magic those things away, they are part of your very fibre. How did you do it?”

Serano nodded in agreement.  “I saw Santa once at an AA meeting after he’d had a shave.   Not unpleasant and he has a rather nice chin with a cute little cleft but left me feeling rather uncomfortable I will tell you.”

Cassandra moved the cup from in front of face and lifted her head. 

“Sweet baby Jesus” Exclimed Evanora.  Serano put her hand over her mouth in shock. 

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad.” Cassandra protested.  “In fact ai think it looks rather nice.  Grenville the warlock who keeps the bar at the Hogs Head said so himself.”

“Oh Evie” said Serano most upset.  “Evie what is going on.  This is most unwitchlike.”

Evanora took a deep breath and stood up slowly from the table. 

“Cassie, this will not do” she said, her voice stern an commanding.  “This will not do at all.  You are a witch.  We are witches.  We have certain standards to maintain and a wartless face is simply not acceptable in this coven.”

Serano nodded again, this time more vigorously, and Cassie’s lip began to tremble as she started to speak.

“I really don’t see what the problem is” Cassie replied, her voice cracking as she spoke.

“The problem is that there are acceptable norms Cassie.  You don’t see Serano hopping on a bus or taking a dog as a familiar do you?”  Evanora didn’t wait for a response before continuing.  “No, she takes her broom when she needs to pop to the shops and has a perfectly acceptable cat like everyone else.  She conforms Cassie.  She is a witch and she behaves like a witch.”

Cassie eyes began to well up and then, quite unexpectedly, she stood and banged her fist on the table.

“No, no that is not fair.  I like how I look and I think I look much better and Grenville agrees.  In fact I think it’s hypocritical for you to insist I keep my warts.”  She shot a glance over at Serano who was still nodding.

Evanora noticed the glance between the two women.  “What was that?  What’s going on her?” she exclaimed.  “Serano?”

Serano stopped nodding and began shaking her head.  “It’s Nothing.  There’s nothing.   I don’t know what she is talking about.”

Hands on hips Cassandra suddenly felt emboldened.

“You think I haven’t seen the way behave when Victus is about?” she snapped.

“What is she talking about?” asked Evanora sharply.

“Let’s just say that she hasn’t been riding side saddle lately” Cassie continued. 

“Is that true Serano?” Evanora asked her nostrils flaring.  “Have you been riding stick?”

Serano blushed and looked away.

“Oh dear Merlin’s ghost, by Satan’s cloven hooves what is going on with you two.  This is most inappropriate and unwitchlike.”

“Oh please” said Serano.  “Don’t act all superior, you’re one of the dark ones remember.  You’re no white witch.  I remember what you were like when you were younger.”

“Really? “ said Cassandra. 

“Oh yes, let’s just say that that her cat wasn’t the only pussy to get up to no good.”  She winked and grinned as Cassie covered her mouth in shock and Evanora turned sharply pulling out her wand.

“Serano, hush your mouth” she shouted, wand raised.

Serano laughed loudly returning to the table “Oh sit yourself down dear, you know you aren’t going to use that thing.”

Evanora stood breathing heavily her face flushed before sitting back down and composing herself.  Cassandra waited a moment longer before taking her place. 

The three witches stared silently into their cups and Cassandra cleared her throat nervously and began to unbutton her tunic.

“Does anyone want to see my new piercing….”

 

 

Purple Plasma – Room 101

This is very much just a beginning…

These things tend to be short pieces that may or may not be the beginning of something else. I try to do them in 101 words but sometime not.  .  The prompt was ‘Purple Plasma’

Stanislaw rolled the cigarette slowly between his gnarled yellow fingers and stared out across the SSR Lenin’s launch deck.  Attack vessels blazed across the blackness of space and flashes of purple plasma tore through the darkness as a Mark II cutter exploded in an iridescent ball of red and gold just off the starboard side.

He puffed out his cheeks, placed the cigarette behind his ear and tapped the com-patch on the lapel of his faded uniform.  A second cutter slammed into the force field protecting the high hangar doors and exploded without so much as dinting The Lenin.  She was a strong ship, old, but tough as old boots.

“Oscar, it’s Stan.  You got me a ship yet?  The boys are getting taken to pieces out there”

After a momentary pause the com crackled into life.

“Negative Stan, we’re all out.  We have everything out there trying to repel them, nothing ship side.”

Stanislaw walked slowly over to the hangar entrance.  “Okay Oscar copy that.  First ship in is mine though okay?”  He placed the cigarette in his mouth, pulled a small silver lighter from his pocket and lit it.

“Roger that Stan” said Oscar.  “I know you don’t like to watch.”

“Copy that.  Out”

Stanislaw took a deep drag and watched the small attack ships dance between the larger cruisers, picking each other off as the cruisers fired their heavy salvos towards each other.

“What a complete shit storm” he mumbled to himself and took another drag of the cigarette.  

For two years they had dodged the Zentra trying to get back to Earth and now just a week out they had found them.  It was going to be a long day.

 

 

Coffin Candy – Room 101

Getting back into it again…let’s see how this goes shall we…

These things tend to be short pieces that may or may not be the beginning of something else. I try to do them in 101 words but sometime not.  .  The prompt was ‘Coffin Candy’

“Harold?  Are you there” came a voice through the darkness.

Harold said nothing, the all too familiar shrill tone conjouring up memories he would much rather forget.

“Harold?  Harold?” She continued.  “I know you’re here.  Where are you.”

Harold sighed.  “Hello dear” he said with considerably less gusto than his recently departed significant other might have expected.

“Is that it?” she snapped.  “After all these years that is the best you can muster.  ‘Hello dear’?”

“How are you?” Harold continued. 

“How am I?  Good god man how the dickens do you think I am.  This is all very much a shock let me tell you.”  Her voice was as shrill as a boiling kettle whistle. which reminded him that it had been quite some time since he had enjoyed a nice cup of tea.

Harold sighed again.  He really had been enjoying the peace and quiet very much up until this point and knew he was not going to get even a biscuit never mind a cup of tea.

“Who’s that?” came a third voice.  “Have you got someone with you Harold?”

The best Harold could muster was “Oh shit” as the kettle voiced woman exploded in a fit of rage.

“Who is she?” she bellowed.  “Where is she Harold, get her out here right now.  Come on, where is she hiding.  Put on a bloody light man.”

Harold waited for her to stop shouting before quite calmly explaining that there were no lights and that was Carole from next door.

“Carole?  Carole?” she exploded again.  “Bit familiar don’t you think.  Where is she Harold?  Under the bed.”

“No dear, she’s next door.” Harold explained.  “She’s just a friend.”

“Oh thanks Harold” said Carole sounding rather hurt.  “I thought I was more than that.  That’s just great.”

“Im sorry” Harold replied.  “I thought…” He waited for a moment.

“You thought what Harold?  You thought I wouldn’t find out?  Is that it?”

Harold cleared his throat.  “Carole, this is…was… my wife Julie.”

Carole sniffed.

“Is she crying?” Julie asked, not waiting for a reply.  “You can bloody well cry all you want dear” she said raising her voice and shouting into the darkness.  “I’d remind you that’s my husband thank you very much.  And what exactly do you mean by ‘was’?” she snapped savagely turning her attention back to Harold.

“Well…” Harold said his voice wavering.  Harold remembered with great displeasure that Julie was about as patient as she was pleasant.

Perhaps a joint burial plot hadn’t been the best idea after all…

Farewell Carlos Ezquerra

A sad day indeed

Carlos Ezquerra passed away today and it is a sad day indeed.  Whilst many have drawn Dredd it was Carlos’ work that was so instantly recognisable and held me captive from such a young age.  Carlos brought Dredd to life and so much of what we now know and love about Dredd and the Mega Cities was of his making.

Beyond Dredd there is his work on Strontium dog and others.  He really was one of the greatest comic book artists ever and his work has always meant such a lot to me and delights me every time I see it.

I remember going to a con a few years ago just to see him and was gutted when he couldn’t get there because of air traffic controllers somewhere or other and when I eventually got my hands on a piece of his work it was like all my Christmas’ rolled into one.

Below is one that I have shared before that really shows just how amazing an artist he was and by all accounts he was a pretty top bloke too.

RIP Carlos…

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October Writing Prompts

~M's avatarPutting My Feet in the Dirt

witchs-house-836849_1280

Here are the new writing prompts for October.  As you’ll notice, I decided to do a Halloween theme this month, and I really hope everyone enjoys them!

I’d also like to send a special birthday wish to Dorinda Duclos.  May your birthday month be filled with everything that makes you the happiest that you can be!  You inspire me to keep going even when I feel like quitting, and I love you for that and for so many other reasons.  Thank you for always being you.  ❤️~M xo

Now for all you newbies, here’s what I like to do with the prompts.  Hope you’ll try this too!  😉

To begin, settle into your favorite place in the house with a hot drink to warm your waking bones.  Once you’ve warmed up a bit; grab your journal, a trusty pen, and a timer.  Then, set your timer for ten minutes and…

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