Short Stories to Entertain

Even though the company had been boisterous the pub lacked any sort of empathy so after a couple of stiff ultra-dry martinis,  probably the  worst drink considering my problems, I slipped away with the intention of walking the couple of miles home. Craving the panacea of a few deep lungs full of salty ozone filled air I took the scenic route hoping the  great view  would lift my spirits.     Climbing the cliff path and struggling for breath I stopped to rest at the highest point on the slats of  Garath  Dobb’s bench. It had been a while since  I’d  taken this route so I had no idea who the guy was or anything about  him  but I did notice the absence of  Verdigris  on the copper plaque screwed onto the pristine varnish of the back support.    Maybe a  hundred yards offshore the silhouette of the car ferry slowly ploughed through flat waters, barely visible with the sun a mere lighter outline hanging low ...

For someone close to me who I'm helping because they're struggling with health and life.   A good old tool is strong and true   Honed and polished   Nurtured and loved   A good old tool is the sort to have   A good old tool     A good old tool is better than new   Balanced and reliable   Honest and dependable   A good old tool will not let you down   A good old tool     A dull old tool is tired and worn   Blunt and blemished   Abused and neglected   A dull old tool will rust and fail you   A dull old tool     A dull old tool doesn't need replacement   Polish it, sharpen it   Love and cherish it   A dull old tool with the proper care    Is  a good old tool  

MY NEXT BOOK, SOME WILL DIE, IS FINISHED AND BEING EDITED. PUBLICATION IS NOW SCHEDULED FOR FEBRUARY 2026 SO WATCH OUT FOR FURTHER UPDATES. SEE THE PREVIOUS POST TO READ THE FIRST CHAPTER

MY NEXT BOOK, SOME WILL DIE, IS NEARING COMPLETION. AS A TEASER READ THE FIRST CHAPTER POSTED BELOW Knightsbridge, London three in the morning. One of the Regency mansions in a row around a neat small square. Around the back, behind the tall brick wall, a shadow beneath an open sash window shifted and slipped over the sill to crouch on the sitting room floor. Waited as the moon momentarily appeared from behind thick clouds casting enough illumination to show all he needed to know. Sliding the window shut, a slight breeze through the round hole in the glass beneath the lock shifted his hair then soft soled  sneakers moved him towards the closed door. The handle moved but the door caught. He reached for his lock-pick and pushed the door not realising his mistake. He  hadn’t  noticed the minute electronic sensor  located  in a hinge screw hole as he crept towards the stairs.    In th e main bedroom Joe Ricci  immediately  heard the triple ping f...

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...