Short Stories to Entertain

MY NEXT BOOK, SOME WILL DIE, IS NEARING COMPLETION. AS A TEASER READ THE FIRST CHAPTER POSTED BELOW Please note it is unedited so please excuse any errors. Publication is scheduled for January 2026

A sudden change had occurred. He felt it and it made him look. The passive crowd had adopted a restlessness that made him look from behind the stage high above the level of the audience, look over their heads all the way to the back. He could see a sea of shifting movement, a sort of shimmering, subtle but it was there. He noticed the constant hum, a low drumming vibration of mumbled, background words, louder shouts slowly gaining frequency. The gradually increasing volume suddenly captured him. He swung his gaze around the auditorium, sensed the moment was approaching whe n he would be able to utilise the passion of expectation and drive it upwards using words, carefully crafted words, powerful words prepared and presented in such a way to maximise effect, to mesmerise, almost hypnotise and for that the crowd’s fervour needed to be reaching its zenith, not quite at the summit but almost there. Timing had to be exact and that was the secret. He would let the expectation build a while...

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Quite clearly the way forward was do as the boss said. There was no question. He was always right. Lucy Turnbull was not happy though. The system they were installing as far as she was concerned was defective. It left them vulnerable . They had significant value in client s’ funds that needed a very serious degree of protection. The system should have a built - in failsafe but didn’t . That surely was a mistake .            Lucy had worked at the solicitors for a good number of years. The office manager. Organising, arranging , dealing with the constant stream of contrary clients that fell through the door every day. The practice was large with around twenty - six legals , that’s how she referred to them, covering a vast array of fields. And all their support staff. They varied in competence. There were a few that were just simply a pain in the arse. The l egal side of their work was fine after all she did not get involved in that. T he admin...

How far back was I? I counted - third in line and tapping my foot. Slowly though; I was relaxed. Thinking, what the hell , it would take as long as it took. All I was doing was beating the time of the latest fill I was trying to master on the drums. My Rolands, up in the loft, where, with headphones on, I drummed all my hard rock heroes. It’s what I did anywhere I was waiting, run the latest groove through my head tapping my foot and flicking my fingers. I was concentrating hard; this one had a complicated s hift through the toms and ride cymbal.   Still third in line. Why? The guy up front at the checkout held a scowl of despair as he packed his bags with the precision of an OCD. I looked at the steamy fella behind him - there was trouble coming for sure. The man turned, his eyes missed the lady behind him and locked onto me. Why me and not the lady I’m not sure. Perhaps he thought the words he was going to use wouldn’t suit a sweet old lady. That’s when he said, over the lad...

To continue to make most of my work free to read I have posted a thirty-five chapter book, THEY ALL CAME KNOCKING, that is available to read from today.  BRIEF SYNOPSIS Gloria Dubonnet runs THE SEA VIEW BOARDING HOUSE on the south coast of England but she is not all she appears to be. Who are her mysterious guests and what part in the chaos that ensues does her abused daughter play? How does gangster Jimmy Raynott fit into her life? Over the years she has accumulated a fortune but can she keep it? CLICK TO READ  

Any number of worn out cliches are capable of describing the silence that prevailed but this was different, this silence was encased in ice. Thick ice, the sort that stilled everything. So cold that even the atmosphere in the room was in danger of freezing. Thirty-four kids and not one moved, not even a twitch or a scratch. All except me that is. Why? Because I knew who had done it and that made me rapidly tap my left foot and run sweaty palms down my thighs.  

Go down the side of my yard and you'd see a big old wooden barn covered with planks six inches wide and one inch thick with a clay tile roof. The lean? That was not due to the man slouching there, it was more to do with worm, rotten nails and weak, damp timber. He was a n older guy with a thinning grey top hanging out from beneath an old trilby and a suit that, unless his fortunes had changed during the intervening years, I suspected was his only possession.   I knew him, the man, just about the slackest guy you’d ever meet. The last time I’d seen him was way back working with the trench diggers. A guy whose idea of helping was to hold your coat and kick dust for an hour before saying his legs ached. That’s where I’d seen him, next to a trench, leaning on a shovel waiting for someone to pass him a coat to hold. His boots were already dusty. He saw me and smiled. I saw and ignored him.   Now here he was walking into my office where I knew he’d be asking for a job and ...