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Samples of my works. 3/24/2015 1:42:40 PM
I thought I would simply take a few short extracts from my books and post them here for you to read.
Book title. TEARDROPS & WHITE DOVES (Definitive Poetry)
(In support of sufferers of PTSD)
'HUDDLED'
All I could hear was death coming closer, each shell a footstep nearer,
Passing bullets hummed in my ears, like the reapers scythe skimming my flesh.
The scent of decay, of decomposing comrades, invaded my nostrils,
Filling my brain with putrid uncertainties, of lost hope and unfounded reason.
Huddled, I clenched my head, pressing my skull inwards to feel something.
Gritting my teeth to stop the constant noise, the tinnitus of battle.
Some say that was then, discarded on the battlefield with the blood of dictat.
Little do they know, my battle continues each day; each hour is a war.
I still hear death approaching, each footstep stealthily nearer
Huddled, I clench my head, pressing my skull inwards to feel something.
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Book title. SHADOWS OF EMOTION (Emotional Poetry)
'There is a Storm Coming'
The clouds gather again, like unwelcome guests
Depressing in their greyness, dispiriting and dismal.
The musty scent of foreboding, heavy in the skies,
Carried on the shallow breeze of despair.
I sit barefoot upon the soil
Watching the veil of depression muster overhead.
There is a storm coming, spiteful resentment and hate,
I have done nothing to deserve its fury
Home is not a haven, nor my bed a shelter,
My door is no barrier for the wrath of lightning
That shall strike my flesh and let my blood.
My pain shall not fade with the parting of the clouds.
There is a storm coming my way.
So I hold on with hope as feeble as the delicate flower in my hands,
And I pray that someone without my storm
Can see the beauty of the petals and the hope in my heart.
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Taken from ‘The Abduction of Rupert DeVille'
It was an instinctive reaction, or rather an instinctive non-action that was Rupert’s first recollection of returning to consciousness. The non-action was exactly that. Rupert dare not move a single muscle, dare not make even the minutest sound.
After a few moments Rupert plucked up enough courage to very cautiously raise his right eyelid a fraction of a millimeter, he dared not move his head. Rupert peered about by revolving his eyeball in its socket to the limits of his peripheral vision.
Rupert could see nothing of any consequence from his position on the floor, apart from a small portion of the pile of greasy rags, and a torn page of an old newspaper that was wedged into a corner. Rupert could however, in the silent milliseconds between the almost constant rattling of the dilapidated van, hear muffled breathing from somewhere near his feet.
This breathing sound Rupert assumed, was where the teeth, that man with the insane smile, was sitting. Rupert believed that his very survival could depend on his abductors not knowing he was conscious. This was not something he had gleaned from watching the Hollywood blockbusters he so enjoyed, but a latent instinct, base nature, a deep primeval understanding for survival that is infused into the very fabric of every human being.
As he lay motionless Rupert could feel the movements of the van as it travelled, swaying slightly, bumping, accelerating and decelerating as it negotiated the roads along its route. Believing that he was, for the present, relatively safe Rupert stayed huddled on the rough floor as he started to try and fathom out exactly what the hell was happening.
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This extract is from ‘Lucky?’ (Which is about one third into the first, first draft)!
Joshua smiled the largest and brightest smile I have ever seen. ‘Do you believe in God’? he asked. I thought that a rather strange question at this point in the conversation.
I said that I was unsure. Joshua’s smile grew impossibly wide and he said ‘Well you should now, because you have just met him’! He then extended his hand and shaking mine he laughed his infectious laughter until I could do nothing but laugh along with him.
It turned out that Joshua was not actually God, but in the world of the Lo-Cost supermarket chain he came very close to being supreme. Joshua was the owner’s favourite nephew, the owner’s only nephew and the only male heir in the family.
Joshua and I became firm friends; what is more Joshua was to have a significant effect on my life, but not in the way either he or I could have ever imagined.
Thursday came. It was time to show the painting.
From my position in the park, on the grass verge near the large laurel hedge, I could see Mr Wrigley sitting on the park bench. He was casually tossing cubes of bread to the ducks which had waddled from the pond and were now quacking and squabbling around Mr Wrigley’s feet in anticipation.
I was waiting for a signal. Either Mr Wrigley would take out his handkerchief and sneeze, a good sign, or he would button up his overcoat, that was not so good. I was praying for the sneeze, and then I would play my part.
I was beginning to get jittery, every time someone wandered anywhere near the bench where Mr Wrigley was sitting I thought that it is they who must be the intermediary. The one thing I did not have to worry about was work. Joshua had given me the entire day off, otherwise all this surreptitious activity would have to have been completed in one hour and I had been waiting for forty five minutes already.
A man sat down on the bench next to Mr Wrigley and they began speaking. I was too far away to hear their voices but I could see the gestures, everything looked normal, two strangers chatting about the ducks, the park, the weather, simply passing the time of day. I began to wonder if this was the contact or if it was really just some person passing by.
Then Mr Wrigley pulled out the hanky, the good sign. Time to do my stuff.
X
Below is one sample from ‘Life in the Warzone’ (This manuscript is with the Publishers)
A few seconds before we had shot three men who had tried to run the checkpoint. As they neared the checkpoint they accelerated, driving straight at us, fast.
We did not know if they were running arms, carrying IED’s or were suicide bombers intent on killing us. So we fired our weapons as ordered.
At that point another car gunned its engine and started to drive through the checkpoint. So we shot at them too.
Out here you cannot take any chances.
One moment, a millisecond of indecision and you’re dead, or maimed for life. Or you are responsible for the death of your colleagues, your buddies. That’s not something I would like on my conscience. Not a burden of guilt I would like to live the rest of my life carrying.
So we opened fire on everything that was a potential threat. Everything that presented clear and present danger to our squad.
As you can probably imagine, (or maybe you cannot), those few seconds of fire are a concentrated chaos of adrenaline, fear, and noise.
These moments are when the training kicks in. This is what you have spent years being taught. All the teaching, the exercises, the drills, and all those perpetrations which the instructors have hammered into you, take over. You are so focused in that moment you are in automatic mode, survival mode.
Whatever you are shooting at is just an object that you must take down or take out. Physical forms have no meaning. Humans, people, just become another target. A threat that you have to eliminate. This is a fact of combat.
So that day we eliminated all of the threats.
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I hope you have enjoyed reading these excerpts and will consider adding at least one of my books to your 'reading list'.
You can find my published books on Authors Den, Amazon, CreateSpace, Goodreads, Promocave and Sneak Peek, (where you can read further excerpts).
All books are available as Paperback and eBook except ‘Miriams Hex’ which is eBook only & 'Teardrops & White Doves' which is only available in paperback at present.
(Sorry but you will have to wait for the ‘Books in Progress’ until publication)!!
In the meantime a direct link to all my books can be found on my website
