K. Morris's Blog, page 758

Nightmare

The whispering moved closer. Mark’s instinct was to flee but where could he go? The cellar was black as pitch. If he ran Mark would, in all probability run straight into the arms of the loathsome creatures. Even if, by some miracle he evaded them he would in all likelihood run slap bang into a brick wall. However, remaining where he was was not an option as, sooner rather than later the vile things would be on him.

Mark shuddered at the thought of the Dracs, They didn’t kill their prey immediately. Captives where confined in cages, their blood being taken as and when the creatures became hungry. They where the size of an average domestic cat. In a one to one situation a man could (assuming he was able to get hold of a Drac) choke the life out of the detestable creature. However the cellar was crawling with Dracs. Even if he killed a dozen of them their brethren would capture him eventually.

Mark felt the gentlest of touches, rather like being tickled by the whiskers of a domestic cat. He screamed and kicked out in the direction of the contact. The Drac shrieked as it was propelled through the air. There was a splat followed by a shrieking from the Drac’s enraged companions.

Where was the entrance. He had got into this infernal place, surely he could, somehow find the way out?

Mark was conscious of needle-like fangs puncturing his leg. His fist connected with something warm and soft. The creature groaned in agony attempting to escape. Mark brought his foot crashing down on the skull of the Drac.

The death of another Drac brought a veritable horde of the creatures on him. Desperately Mark clicked on the “close game” icon.

“The programme is not responding”.

Mark reached for the computer’s off switch. His hand was caught in the sharp fangs of a ravenous drac. Mark screamed. With all his strength he attempted to hook his foot around the computer’s cable. If he could get a grip on the wire then Mark could end the nightmare by pulling it out of the socket. The Dracs, as though comprehending his intention, locked both his legs in a vice-like grip. The things piled on top of him forcing Mark off his chair and on to the ground. A sound rather like that of a cat lapping milk could be heard.

 

—

 

Becky found her boyfriend lying on the carpet without a mark on him. He lay entangled in the virtual reality suit. It covered him from head to toe. The garment allowed the user to interact with computer generated worlds and, in effect to become an integral part of whatever game he was playing.

Mark’s face wwore a look of utter detestation and fear. Something about the way in which Mark lay and his expression told Becky that he was beyond help.

Becky reached for the telephone which stood next to the computer monitor. She froze at the sight which greeted her. Cat-like creatures glared at her from the monitor, their sharp fangs seeming to reach out to Becky. Instinctively Becky stepped back to avoid those razor-sharp teeth. Averting her eyes from the screen Becky bent, turned off the power and unplugged the machine. As the power died Becky fancied she heard an angry howling coming from the headset which remained strapped to Mark’s head.

Previously Unseen Letter By Jane Austen Goes On Display At Torquay Museum

A previously unseen letter by Jane Austen has gone on display at Torquay Museum. The letter contains the first mention of Austen’s novel, Pride and Prejudice. For the article which contains a transcript of the letter please visit the following link http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2863601/Previously-unseen-letter-Jane-Austen-writes-Pride-Prejudice-goes-public-display-time.html

Briefcase

Below is my entry to Tipsy Lit’s December short story writing competition (http://tipsylit.com/2014/12/01/decembers-short-story-contest/).

 

BRIEFCASE

 

 

John Mcmanners was every inch your typical civil servant. Dressed in a conservative grey suit, leather briefcase in hand, he walked along Whitehall in the direction of the Ministry of Defence. Tucked under his left arm John carried a large fluffy toy dog. The animal was golden brown in colour with long floppy ears. A long pink tongue protruded from the animal’s mouth. It looked, for all the world as though the dog was smiling.

“Hey, what a cute dog. Is that a present for your little girl or boy?” a tourist with an American or Canadian accent (John always got confused between the 2) said.

“It’s for my daughter”, John said, smiling at the middle-aged lady.

 

—

 

Keith Robbins instructions where clear,

“An official in the Ministry of Defence will arrive at work between 9:20 and 9:30 am. Grab the briefcase he will be carrying. Go to Wong’s Chinese takeaway in Covent Garden and hand it over to Mr Wong. Is that clear?” the man had said.

“Perfectly”, Keith had said.

Keith had no idea who his employer was or why he wanted the briefcase. He worshipped at the altar of Mammon, so long as he got paid Keith didn’t care whether his employer was Satan himself. Money was money whatever it’s origins.

 

—

 

Keith sat astride the powerful motorbike apparently consulting an A to Z of London. As John came abreast of him Keith said,

“Excuse me, can you tell me how to get to Regent Street? This A to Z is useless”.

John paused and turning towards Keith started to speak,

“You need to”,

John swore as Keith yanked the briefcase out of his right hand and rode away at speed.

 

—

 

John entered the office of Mark Colins, the head of the UK’s missile defence programme.

“Do you have those plans of China’s proposed new arms factory?” Mark said.

John placed the large cuddly toy on his boss’s desk. He pulled on the dog’s long pink tongue. It came away in his hand. Rummaging inside the stuffed animal John extracted a computer flash drive,

“There you go” he said handing it over to Mark.

 

—

 

In Wong’s Chinese takeaway, Mr Wong looked in disbelief at the contents of the briefcase: today’s Daily Telegraph, a Marks and Spencer ready meal and a rolled up umbrella. He swore violently. It would, he knew be impossible to recover the plans from the Ministry of Defence. Heads, including his would role over this fiasco.

Do Not Distract

As a guide dog owner I am very happy for people to make a fuss of my 4 legged friend, Trigger when he is not working. He is a wonderful dog and deserves to be fussed and played with as all work and no play makes Jack (sorry Trigger) a dull boy.

When working however it is imperative that Trigger and other assistance dogs are not disturbed. Distracting a guide dog can lead to me or another guide dog owner becoming intimately acquainted with a lamp post or the back of a number 7 bus, a fate which I am, you may be surprised to learn somewhat anxious to avoid!

The problem which I and other guide dog owners have is that many people see a cuddly dog and their immediate reaction is to call out to the animal or reach out and stroke it. I have lost count of the number of occasions on which I have politely had to request people not to distract Trigger when working due to the obvious dangers which can flow from doing so. Most people understand my explanation. However a minority either lack (for whatever reason) the ability to comprehend or, quite simply don’t care. One gentleman in my locality always greets Trigger when he is working and will often stroke him. I have explained, until I am blue in the face why he should not do this. However he still persists. What is one to do in such a situation, grin and bare it? Perhaps I should dress Trigger up to resemble the Hound of the Baskervilles. Would that act as a deterrent do you think?!

As I said above, I am very happy for Trigger to receive attention when he is not working. I do, however wish that the gentleman in my area would desist from distracting my (working) guide dog.

Let Us Return

Let us go quietly in to the wood

Let us go peacefully, become one with the trees

Let us be swallowed by nothingness

Let us return from whence we came.

Beauty In Bleakness

A wooded path

Beauty in bleakness

Fallen leaves stirred by a chill winter’s breeze.

Cold cuts like a knife

Exilirating to be alive

Words Are My Pleasure – Guest Post By Teresa Karlinski

Below is a repost of Teresa Karlinski’s article which originally appeared here on 1 December. The piece is being reposted due to formatting issues with the original, (down to me, not Teresa). Many thanks to Teresa for the below article.

 

Kevin

 

 

Thank you, Kevin, for this opportunity to guest post. I believe I have an interesting, short and sweet, offering for you.

W ords are my Pleasure

Tess (Teresa) Karlinski

http://letscutthecrap.wordpress.com/

Time: Where does it go? Most days it’s a race to keep up. It doesn’t wait, and slips away like water through your clenched fingers.

Reading: Don’t we all love it? Is there ever enough time to get our fill? I need a daily fix—at least a small one or I’m grouchy.

Life messes with our plans and schedules, doesn’t it? Instead of a novel, I’ll grab anything, even a cereal box to read words. Ha, you’ve done it too, I see.

Have you heard about the latest rage: anthologies—you know, books of single-themed stories by a number of different authors? Palpable-Imaginings has many variations on its theme, including mystery, fantasy, adventure, survival, nightmares and more. If, like me, you like assortment (no, not chocolates) or want to fill in those short pauses in life with an engaging story, check it out.

In this compilation, Palpable Imaginings, eight writers offer 17 stories. Start anywhere: the first story, the middle one or the last.

Variety in small doses works for me. What about you? If you’d like to take a look, have a peek here. (available in print copy only)

 

http://russtowne.com/ of A Grateful Man blog compiled the stories for this collection. The eight contributors are:

Russ Towne
William Barrett Burton
Vern McGeorge
Christine Fitchtner
Brad Latham Fort
Teresa Karlinski
Sandy Lardinois
Scott Schroeder

 

Thank you, Kevin, for the invitation to visit here. The pleasure is all mine.

 

December’s Short Story Contest

drewdog2060drewdog2060:

A great opportunity for established and budding authors alike to enter December’s short story writing competition on Tipsy Lit.

Originally posted on TIPSY LIT:

Are you playing? Then grab this badge, place it on your blog’s sidebar and link to this post!

You’ve got a story in you, right?  Somewhere, deep down, there’s something you want said, but more importantly, there’s something that you want READ.

Well?  Here’s your chance.

Every month Tipsy Lit is hosting a flash fiction contest on our blog.  You have every day in the month (except the very last one!) to enter the contest.  The last day, the winner will be announced and their story will be published on our STORY BLOG.

The only stipulation?  Your story can’t be any longer than 500 words.  Flash fiction baby!

HOW TO ENTER

Entering is uber easy!

Publish your 500 words story (with the title) on your own blog.
Be sure to add the Tipsy Flash Fiction badge and link it to this post.
Come back to this post…

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An Act Of Mercy Remains Free To Download For 1 Day Only

The free promotion of my collection of short stories, An Act Of Mercy ends today (1 December). To download An Act Of Mercy free please visit http://www.amazon.com/act-mercy-other-stories-ebook/dp/B00EHS74CS/ref=asap_B00CEECWHY_1_4?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1417418604&sr=1-4. If you read any of my books please do consider leaving a review.

 

Many thanks,

 

Kevin

…serious Authors… if yeez want to be taken seriously, then do yer research seriously…

drewdog2060drewdog2060:

An amusing but entirely correct post on the importance of research.

Originally posted on Seumas Gallacher:

…contrary p’raps to the image this ol’ Jurassic would like to project about himself, I don’t always get ev’rything 100%right… and not just the ‘I was wrong once, when I thought I was wrong’ kinda 100%right… and if getting yer knees kicked is evidence of mistakes, errors, faux pas, and sheer f*ck-ups, then my historical bruises would make a posse of hospital E.R. teams wince… notwithstanding that, Mabel (doncha LUV that WURD?… ’notwithstanding’), it is imperative to check yer facts, do yer homework… NUTHIN spoils a reader’s enjoyment of a good book quicker than when a wee factoid appears out of left field and is blatantly incorrect… in the days before the internet, quill-scrapers had access to dictionaries, atlases, reference libraries, and where relevant, back numbers of newspapers… fast-forward to the present day… much as I sum’times rail against the over-reliance on gadgetry (for example, checkout…

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