Section 12

Extract from Section 12, our latest release now available for kindle –

Book 2 of the ‘O’Grady’ series, it picks up 2 years after the events of Midnight 2 8 – Devyn Tannon and Kathleen O’Grady find their lives endangered from events hidden deep in Devyn’s past – her Dad

***

It was already late when Devyn arrived at the motel. The room smelled like her childhood memories. The rancid stink of sweat and despair overlaid with cigarette smoke and stale beer. It was small and dirty, but it was cheap. She needed it to be cheap. She only had a few dollars left in her pocket after the ride in from the airport. More importantly, she needed things to be the way they used to be before she met O’Grady. She needed to put the life she left behind in Boston away.

Her bank account held enough for her to leave New Orleans and start again somewhere else once she finished what she came to do. She could probably get another few hundred more by having O’Grady sell her clothes, but that would mean speaking to the doctor again. Devyn didn’t want to do that. She could live without the money to forget about Boston.

“A clean break is best. I can’t get them involved in this. It would be too difficult to explain. I owe them at least this much.” Devyn muttered before her eyes drifted closed.


The pages are still blank…

The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible. ~Vladimir Nabakov


on the road to barcelona…

Taken on the fly with a mobile off a rest stop overlooking the highway to Barcelona in the late afternoon. Weather was too cold and dry for words, with the wind just ripping into everything. Spent most of the day in the back of a bus reading, reading, reading, filling my belly full of words; Ruth Rendell, Flannery O’Connor.

Was glad for a chance to get out for a stretch and some air . Had a bottle of Nestea and a small pack of crisps while watching the sunset. Wondered a little what everyone was doing at home right then, sitting down to steaming dinners or watching the news about Cairo on the telly.

Traveling both broadens and narrows the mind. That’s the paradox, we discover how much alike, and yet unlike people are, who live on the other side of the pond. We hate them. We love them. We don’t know any different.

The romance of modern travel.


modern fairy tales

I.  The Dreamer

Once upon a time there was a young woman who dreamed.

If you saw her out on the street, you could never be sure if she was dreaming or just preoccupied with her own private thoughts, because outwardly she would be doing the most mundane of things, like waiting in line at the bus stop,  or stopping to buy the evening paper, or walking the dog, with all the care and skill expected of a normal, healthy young woman. But unlike others,  she didn’t pass her time contemplating any one of a multitude of little fantasies that women her age aspired to.

She didn’t dream in the normal sense of the word for a new fabulous dress to wear to a dance, or taking a motorcycle ride on the back of a Harley with a dangerous man in dark shades, or even a shopping trip in the big, bad city like the women you see on the telly totting along on their ridiculously high heels.   Instead, she would dream grand, sweeping epics populated with fantastic peoples and exotic places far, far away.

In the inner world behind her eyelids, she would really be light years away on a forbidden plant, shooting ray guns at lizard men in ruined temples lost eons ago in the lush green of a tropical jungle.  She would be arguing a critical case for a penniless widow before the hushed silence of the crown court, as the stern but kindly judge nobs sagely in agreement. She would be running a frontier training outpost out in the Far West complete with noble cattle rustlers, saloon girls with hearts of gold and a grizzled old piano player named “Sam”.

She would be living a hundred different lives, and feeling each and every one of their loves and hatreds as keenly as though they were characters in a long running television series – like the afternoon soaps her gran followed religiously through every plot twist and turn.  So much so, she was the despair of her teachers, who spent considerable time lecturing her bewildered parents about her unhealthy habit, and the object of ridicule from her peers. “There she goes again, our Spacy Tracy, the space cadet, dreaming her life away.” the other girls would snicker, as she walked pass them on the street with an enigmatic smile on her face yet again.


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