Club Image

Image was one of the sleazier clubs in town, nestling in the heart of the downtown industrial area. It wasn’t the kind of place your mother warned you about, but only because she had no idea that such places actually existed outside of Dante’s third circle. Every Saturday and Sunday morning, shortly after dawn, the underground club would belch forth a stream of punks, skins and headbangers, who would blink wonderingly at the sunrise, shake their heads to clear the last of the alcohol from their brains, then stagger off to lay low until it was time to start all over again.

I had been there last night, but honestly couldn’t remember a thing after bumping into the two big lads on the roof. This might have been somehow related to the bottle of tequila they’d been passing around, although even that was hazy. Could have been vodka. Or petrol.

Extract from Burning Roses, a decadent tale of sex, drugs, rock n roll & magick. Available on Amazon. Also available in paperback.

And on Amazon.co.uk.

Or you can find all my books at Curiosity, the new retail shop open from Wednesday to Sunday, 11am till late, at the Railways Cafe in Pretoria.

And at The Real Mackay in Blairgowrie. They also have a few hundred old books from my library going for as little as R10 each. And several other self-published books by various South African authors. Go stock up for the holiday season.

Remember to keep an eye out for one of my stories in the upcoming “25 Gates of Hell” anthology. And in The Great Void Books anthology “Black Veins”.

And you’ll find another couple of stories in the soon-to-be-published South African anthology “Flambé, Silk Tie Murder, and the Rooibos Baby.”

Till next time.

Cheers.