Vivika Widow's Blog, page 46

Our City; Our Rules

When you come to play the beautiful game in the Shady City things start getting a little ugly …

Even a star former Luen striker has to learn how the game is really played.

Read PLAY THE GAME free.

Check out some the Coldford thrillers from Vivika Widow, home of Coldford City FC.

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This Place (A look behind the Art)

Run child as fast as your feet will carry you.

Don’t pause for a breath or stop to tie your shoe.

You can look around, cry for help if you like,

But this is one time the monster will strike.

You can run deep into the forest, you can hide in the dark,

But we will always find you, for you have the mark.

You will never survive; you’ve already begun to rot,

You can gather wood, set camp, just like daddy taught.

It all seems so fruitless now, so close to the end,

When a monster lurks behind every bend.

Our paths are made from the bones of the others,

Somewhere waiting for them are weeping mothers.

You will discover as they did, there is no way out.

Burst your little lungs trying to scream and shout.

Just listen please,

To the noise of the trees.

They will warn you of what lurks in every inch of this place.

Creatures waiting to snatch you, all eager for a taste.

They won’t wait long, for they are hungry indeed.

Only the blood of a child will fulfil their greed,

All roads lead to the same place in the end.

We all go without a coin, a care or a friend,

So look up child and see what lies in wait.

Thank you little child, for taking the bait.

Artist David is forced to relive a childhood trauma as he searches for new inspiration.

An innocent seeming farm girl holds the key to unlocking it as she becomes his new MUSE.

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Available now. Click HERE to read!

This Place

We all go without a coin, a care or a friend.

A once respected artist has lost his way.

A simple farm girl can help remember that day

when those demons of negativity first came to feed.

Only the blood of a child would fulfil their greed.

So join us, dear readers, on February 15th

for an exclusive MUSE short yet unseen.

David has given his all as an artist but like hungry birds they want more. This time he has to go beyond the negativity that is holding him back and stare into the face of a childhood trauma.

Tune in Friday 6pm for a MUSE short that will take you deeper into our artists motives.

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MUSE is available now. Click HERE to read.

Biting the Hand that Feeds

“It’s about the job, doc. I don’t think I can do it anymore. I don”t have the stomach for it.”

The doctor turned to Glenn and grinned, a polished smile with no humour. “Think about all those you have saved. You’re providing a service.”

Glenn was never shy of hard work. Life on Harvester Farm had never been easy but as it burst into a franchise with hidden agendas it didn’t seem to fit a guy like him anymore.

Muse is live now.

Artist, David is so absorbed in his new farm girl muse he fails to register a threat around him.

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AN INSIGHT INTO THE ANTI MAKRI INTELLIGENCE AGENCY; COMBATING MAKRI SMUGGLING RINGS

AN INSIGHT INTO THE ANTI MAKRI INTELLIGENCE AGENCY; COMBATING MAKRI SMUGGLING RINGS

They say the world is becoming a smaller place each day. This rings true in the ears of our Anti Marki Intelligence agents who are currently fighting a war on human trafficking. A lesser known agency until recently, they are a small group of officials who are specialised in combating the Makri group – a global concern with widespread members through many different countries. With origins in New Zealand, the Makri spread from the Southern Hemisphere to Asia, from Asia they moved east across Europe. Finally they found settlement in Mexico and certain other parts of South America. The Makri are funded by trafficking of guns, drugs and young girls.

The Anti Marki Intelligence Agency was set up to wage war against the Makri. With support from the United States, England, Caledonia, Japan, Germany and France the success of the AMIA has been remarkable.

Chairman, Jurgen Kiertrich, stated, “We have seen a significant reduction in the amount of trafficking in the past few months. Several Makri cells have been closed down thanks to the effort of our agents.”

With success being declared in Europe, South America has a different view. A former Makri member, Antonio (name changed to protect identity), told us, “They may think they have closed the Makri cells down but for every one they stop another three will replace it.”

Antonio fled from the Makri after having spent ten years in Mexico as part of a drug cartel ring. Questions arose over the financial mismanagement of his group. Falling into debt Antonio’s family were threatened, forcing him to cross the border to the United States and seek refuge. He is currently under the protection of the AMIA.

Antonio’s story is a small piece of the fear that the Makri have caused. We met a girl by the name of Analice, a former call girl for the Makri. She was taken from her home in Ukraine. Her then partner, Kris Markoso, had promised her a new life in the United States where she would receive an education and fulfil her ambition of becoming a school teacher. Analice left her home, selling everything she owned for the venture and departed Ukraine in the middle of the night aboard a ship bound east.

“I was told that I was going aboard Liberty,” Analice told us. “I had heard so much about the ship. I was excited.”

However, Analice was not taken aboard Liberty (A ship that was custom built for the purposes of safe travel for refugees by King Fasio Sanchez of Spain). Instead she and twenty other girls were taken aboard a small fishing vessel. Her journey ended in Mexico. She never saw Kris again. Instead of an education Analice was forced into prostitution to pay for her keep in the slums of Mexico City. She and the other girls being told that the harder they worked and the more money they earned the more luxury they would receive. Analice assured us that this was true for most of the girls. Some were taken to exclusive villas and showered with gifts. Others were left alone to fight a growing drug addiction.

The AMIA have heard thousands of stories similar to that of Analice. Each day they re-home and protect thousands of girls – some as young as eight – from Makri forced labour.

“Our job is just beginning to show fruit,” said Agent Kiertrich. “We have a much larger fight ahead of us.”

Vowing to end the Makri group within the next five years some argue that the intentions of the AMIA are ambitious. The Marki are like a virus having spread to the four corners of the world. There is no knowing how far their membership base has reached. The Makri claim to hold powerful figures as their members. AMIA are not deterred by this. With determination and a dedicated team they will end the tyranny.

A Torrance Global Exclusive

Written by Jaimya Van Hols

Adapted from Conflict: Global Crisis

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Character Profile: Dr Winslow

Features in: MUSE , KNOCK KNOCK 

Age: 56

Occupation: Surgeon General, CEO Harvesters Meat and Dairy.

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Dr Gregory Winslow is accomplished and well educated. There are many around the Shady City that owe their life to him. He is something of a wizard with transplants and one of his most grateful patients is Jacob Harverster, better known as the old Harvester. Jacob’s daughter, Julia , was so grateful to the doctor for her father’s care he was named one of the leading holders of the farm and with that control Winslow was able to help the Harvesters grow and thrive.

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Like many in the shady city Winslow doesn’t do what he does out of the goodness of his heart. No, business is business. Whilst saving lives can be a great thing the ugly truth is someone has to pay for it somewhere.

Harvester farm grew. It spread like a great smothering plant across the city with no one trimming away the rotting parts. The farm hands were worked harder but saw less benefits. Julia found herself in the doctor’s clutches. She couldn’t escape. She didn’t just owe her father’s life, she owed everything and the good doctor was going to make sure he had his dues.

Winslow has touched so many lives. From the simple farm girl who he has complete control over to a down on his luck artist. Winslow connects the two and as their stories collide, as artist and muse, a horrifying truth will be revealed as they desperately try to break free.

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Traffic in the Night

The Southern Hemisphere war had left thousands of people homeless, without food and medicine. Sally Mainlock was no exception. When the elite Rogue Battalion force rescued the central town of Gainsby back from the rebel Makri group she had been split from the rest of her family. As Rogue Battalion kept the town secure, the refugees caught among the fighting tried their best to pick up their former lives. Sally held hope that she and her family would be reunited but they remained trapped elsewhere. She stopped herself thinking about. It made her too restless. She bedded down with the other refugees in the camp that had been created within the town hall. Rogue Battalion ushered in what supplies they could. Things like tea and biscuits had become scarce during the fighting but were now flowing as freely as they ever had.

Sally laid her cup beside her sleeping bag and munched her biscuit greedily. She had always been a slim girl but now she felt like a bag of bones. Her golden hair had lost all of its shine and it was thinning. Her hooked nose looked disproportional on her gaunt, drawn face.

“Go away!” cried out on the other girls to a young man who had sat himself beside her.

Sally had seen the same young man try to engage other girls in conversation. They all had had the same response.

‘They’re being harsh on him,’ Sally surmised. ‘He’s probably just lonely like the rest of us.’

He stood again when the girl gave him nothing but derision. He raised his hands and walked away. He caught Sally’s gaze. He had a muscular physique that hadn’t faded with undernourishment. His skin was a warm brown. His handsome face was sun beaten. He sat down next to her.

“Do you mind?” he asked, even though it was too late.

“Don’t worry about the others,” said she. “We’re all sick with worry,” Sally explained.

He pulled his knees up to his chest and began to scan the room. A man in a Rogue Battalion uniform stationed at the main door looked over in their direction. Seeing no distress, he went back to his watch.

“Where you a model before?” he asked.

Sally blushed. “Nothing like that.”

He raised his shoulders and examined her more closely. “You could be a model.”

Sally giggled. “I don’t think so.”

He sighed.”This is no place for us,” he stated.

“We’re safe here,” Sally commented, referring to the presence of Rogue Battalion.

“It’s a shame. I have a modelling agency in the States but I can’t get there unless I’m bringing models with me. No more camps, no more rations…”

“Why can’t you go on your own?”

“Diplomatic rules have come into play because of the war. New border checks mean I have to have models with me to prove the legitimacy of the agency.”

Sally felt sorry for him, having such a glamorous life waiting for him but being trapped in a war zone because of a technicality. “Hopefully you will find someone soon,” she said.

He examined her again. “You could have such a great career as a model. I know plenty of brands that would snap you up.” He seemed so sure.

Sally’s heart began to beat a little faster. “You really think so?” He nodded in agreement. “I would love to go to the States but my family are still missing,” she explained.

“I was reading just the other day about families being reunited in the States. They have taken as many refugees as they could. That’s probably where your family are. Didn’t you see the news?” He spoke in such a matter of fact tone it suggested that he wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t already know.

Sally squealed. “My family are in the States?”

He was taken aback by her sudden enthusiasm. “I can’t say for certain but if they’re not here that’s where they will be.”

“If I am one of your models will you take me there? Will you take me to my family?” she grabbed his shoulder excitedly.

“I don’t know,” he hesitated.

“I promise I will do my best for you! Anything you want, just help me find my family.”

The Rogue Battalion watchman looked over again. Sally was hushed. “You’ll have to calm down,” he warned. “You can’t let any of the Rogue Battalion find out.”

“Why not?”

He lowered his voice. “They mean well but if they know that your family are abroad they will have to go through the proper channels which can take a long time.”

Sally was baffled. “All right.”

“Meet me at the makeshift gates at eleven. Come alone and make sure no Rogue Battalion see.”

Sally was delirious with excitement at the prospect of her new life and seeing her family again. The hours seemed to slip by at a snails pace. Finally it reached a few minutes to eleven.

The Rogue Battalion guard had been changed.

“I’ve left some things in my house. They aren’t valuable or anything but they are important to me. I would really like to have them.”

The guard looked out into the thick darkness. “Now?” he asked.

Sally sobbed. “I have nothing of my family! No photos, no memories and they’re missing.”

Most of the buildings nearby had been destroyed in bomb blasts. It wasn’t safe but the refugees weren’t prisoners either. The guard made up his mind.

“Outside you’ll find three of my colleagues. Ask for Noah. I think you should at least wait until morning and he’ll probably agree with me. He’s off duty but you are free to ask for his help.”

Sally thanked him and slipped out into the night. Like she had been told, three members of Rogue Battalion had grouped together beside a camouflaged van. They were laughing. One, shorter than the other two, was stubbing out a cigarette. The largest, and by the style of his dress the most senior, was reminding his subordinates how detrimental to a persons health smoking can be.

Sally took her chance whilst they were distracted. She ran as quickly as she could to the makeshift fence that had been erected at the edge of town. It was now a few minutes past eleven. She hoped the modelling agent had waited for her. She despaired when she found no one was there to take her to her new life.

“This way,” she heard a cry. A hole had been cut in the fence. The modelling agent had waited. His face was muddied now and he he had a deep scar down the left side that hadn’t been noticeable before. “Hurry!” he urged.

Sally cut her face on the sharp edges of the space she crawled through. She hoped the modelling agent wouldn’t notice.

A grey van pulled up. Three men piled out.

“Wait? Where are we going exactly?”

Sally had been so consumed with glee before she hadn’t thought to ask. It only occurred to her then that she didn’t even know the modelling agents names.

One of the large men from the van gripped her chin. He moved her face side to side. The large double doors at the back of the van were pulled open. The floor was a metal grate. On the wall hung a black and white striped flag with a red rattle snake in the corner. That same symbol had been a token of fear for months before the outbreak of the war and for the duration. When she saw the Makri symbol she tried to scream. Her mouth was covered with a rough, spade like hand. She felt a needle plunge into her neck. Her unconscious body was bundled into the back of the van.

Makri were expert smugglers. Only they would boldly drive to the edge of Rogue Battalion territory and abduct young girls. Sally wasn’t going to an exciting life. She was being taken into the heart of a Makri stronghold in the deep underworld. She would never see her family again. Once in Makri hands she would never be found.

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The Right to Remain Silent

In the Shady City it takes a brave cop to walk the streets. Shady City’s finest are as touch as the streets they protect. There are many confessions made within the walls of Coldford Police Department (CPD).

 

Such confessions include the kidnapping of a young girl named Marjorie (MAESTRO) or the murder of half the Filton University anatomy class (CONFESSIONS).

The brave men and women of CPD are always torn between what’s right and what needs to be done. Things can get sticky as the lines of morality are blurred.

When a reporter comes to them with one of the most incredible story they have ever heard it seems like it’s time to take the streets on force. The city is descending into chaos and it needs all the brave wearers of blue it can find. If those in uniform are willing to bend rules a little to get the job done, all the better.

Vivika Widow is the author of various thriller and horror books.

The Knock, Knock series is free to read HERE at Vivika Widow Online. Click HERE to check out other titles.

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Transport from Hell!

Normally I am one for travelling via train but some malevolent spirit must have looked down on me this morning and thought ‘I really need to shake things up’ because that can be the only explanation for my decision to travel by bus.

Of course, I have to get two buses to visit family in Uddingston because having one that ran straight through would be far too easy. However, I know what I am getting myself into… An all day ticket it is… I will be travelling back again after all.

So bus no.1 takes me to Glasgow City Centre … so far so good. With business concluded there I prepare myself for bus no.2 which will take me on to Uddingston. I wasn’t waiting for long when a red monstrosity shudders along. The driver zooms past just staring at me with that vacant expression that tells me I would get a better response from an amoeba. ‘Argggh!’ I yell. The old lady behind me agrees. ‘Ba***rd’ she mutters. I wait another 20 minutes and another comes along. Does he stop? no, of course he doesn’t. It is only then that I realize what the problem is. A Tree Removal Service truck complete with his trailer is parked in the stop and obviously parking in behind him would be too difficult for our conscientious bus drivers. Seriously? Of all the spots in the Glasgow City Centre to need tree removal! So I plod along to another stop and a bus no.2 finally stops and I’m on my way.

Is that the end of my nightmare? Of course it isn’t… I still have to get back home again.

After my visit I bid farewell to the family and hop onto bus no.3. The driver of which decides to tell me that my ticket is invalid because I crossed the boundary. None of the previous drivers thought to mention this little fact? It lucky that I am able to pay another fare because I hadn’t been to the ATM and had just left the shop where my niece was eyeing up a huge dinosaur toy. Luckily she had settled for sweets.

Back in the City Centre I need to change to bus no.4. I see the bus hurtling round the corner. I’m never one for speed but I could have given Usain Bolt a run for his money. I caught that bad boy. I relaxed in my chair. On my way home now? Nope! I’m heading along Pollockshaws road and it occurs to me… ‘I don’t live here’ . I finally reach Queen’s Park and I think again ‘I had better ask the driver’ ….”Are you going into the West End?” of course he wasn’t … he had already been to the west end before I got on and was now on his way to East Kilbride! I had been so busy running to catch it I hadn’t seen where he was going.

So off again and on bus no.5. I was reaching the end of my tether when two lovely young men sit beside me to keep me company. Then they asked me that question that even the most spiritual of us dreads to hear when we are trying to get home. “Have you found Jesus?”

I tried to explain that I was Catholic and happy with my path but they were having none of it. Got to admire their enthusiasm. Short of removing the biggest set of Rosary Beads from my bag they would not give up. Even the man in front swigging his cider was putting his opinion in. I’m not one to debate Theology. Maybe they knew better, maybe they didn’t…. All I knew was… next time… I was getting the bloody train!

Vivika Widow is the author of various thriller and horror books.

The Knock, Knock series is free to read HERE at Vivika Widow Online. Click HERE to check out other titles.

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Everybody loves somebody sometimes …

He was always missing something from his life. He tried to fill it with everything that was bad for him – drugs, foul women, pain. As he wandered into the abyss he could hear his friends calling him back. Their voices were muffled. They didn’t call loud enough to make him want to turn.

She was there for him though. His new Muse. Beautiful yes, but so much more. Her innocence hid a Goddess like quality. She couldn’t see it in herself. Even as she took him in her embrace the shelter of her farm girl up bringing couldn’t mask the true face underneath. As she drew him further and further into the world of the Harvesters David was forced to recognise a childhood trauma he had long buried.

Vivika Widow’s thriller MUSE is available now! Click