Love hurts

“How are things with Janine?” she asked. “Are you guys still disgustingly romantical?”

Noddy laughed as she scratched the air with black-painted fingernails. “I dunno,” he shrugged. “It isn’t easy. You know what I’m like with relationships.”

“Hell, yeah, I remember. But at least we were best mates before. I sometimes miss those days, before things got complicated. Before Mick…”

Those last four letters were a conversation assassin. A verbal cock-blocker. It was a few moments before Noddy carried on.

“We’re trying to make it work, you know? But she keeps nagging at me to get a job, make some money, settle down.”

“Okay? And?”

“That’s not me, is it?”

Morag smacked him on the shoulder, pushing him into the middle of the alley they were walking through on their way to the club. “Welcome to reality. We all have to grow up sometime.” She smiled innocently. “Unless… of course… you want to go back into business? Was good having you there to back me up in that alley. Just like the old days.”

Noddy concentrated on keeping an eye open for pursuit. Sticking to the back streets was the best plan she’d had all night.

“I don’t do that anymore. Don’t want to end up dead in one of those alleys. Colours nailed to the wall in Valhalla.”

To keep people entertained while we all struggle to find our feet in a world suddenly flipped upside down – I’m releasing Dancing in Valhalla in weekly installments.

Read them each week on FaceBook or WordPress. Receive notifications via Twitter, Tumblr, GoodReads, or Amazon.

Read them while you stand in a South African bottle store queue, stocking up before the government changes its mind and bans drinking. And reading. And standing. And queues.

No charge. No obligation. Read for free. Share with your friends.

Cheers.

Full published version includes 13 twisted tales of music, magick, mayhem & murder.

Some torn from headlines in sunny South Africa where, for many, these are part of everyday life.

Shop for shrunken heads in a village that time forgot.

Witness an ancient ritual passed down from the Aztecs through Jack the Ripper to modern-day London.

Savour the sweet taste of revenge in a French restaurant.

And sit in on the Grim Reaper’s disciplinary hearing.

Relax and enjoy an assortment of characters nearly as twisted as the endings of these 13 tales of psychological suspense.

Physical paperback copies are once again available from BookDealers of Rivonia – 40 Wessel Road, Rivonia, Sandton.

And from Snow Lion in 7th Street, Melville.

New science fiction novella coming soon. “Let Sleeping Gods Lie.” What happens when mankind ventures out into space and encounters ancient gods who would really rather be left alone?

Watch this space. No pun intended. Well, maybe a little one…

Science fiction meets mythology

What happens when mankind ventures out into space and encounters ancient gods who would really rather be left alone?

I wrote this during lockdown, in response to Zombie Pirate Publishing’s second annual one week writing challenge. And, yes, it was indeed a challenge. But I’m happy with the result.

You guys will get to read it eventually. This is just a teaser, while I catch my breath and move on to the next (self-imposed) challenge.

Cheers.

Ozzy edged forward, inch by inch, sniffing the air, eyes wide, all the while toying with his most vicious growl, keeping it ready for the right moment.

The old man looked down at the dog, and his expression changed. Barbara wasn’t sure what it changed to, but it was certainly different. She took a step forward, but he had already dropped to one knee, supporting himself with one hand on the shaft of the scythe, and reaching forward with his other hand.

Barbara’s couldn’t move. She wanted to. Needed to. Had to leap forward and scoop her baby off the floor before… before…

Ozzy trotted across the room and sniffed the hand held out to him. He looked up at its owner. He turned to look at Barbara. Then he licked the hand and panted when it moved to scratch him behind the ear.

“Adorable. What flavour are they?”

Barbara squeaked.

 

Black hole sun

Morag had had a handful of jobs since leaving her adopted parents’ home at the tender age of sixteen with only bruises, bad memories and the clothes on her back. Waitress, barmaid, photographic model, and her latest attempt – exotic dancer. None of them seemed to last very long.

She was a beautiful mess, bright enough, and passionate enough, to make a success of any career she chose. But it was that same passion that brought most of those career paths to a spectacular bloody end. Her huge overflowing cosmic passion, the same passion that made her a blazing comet, burning everything around her. She struggled with the mundane, the small, day to day things everyone else took for granted. She knew she was destined for greatness, and that she just needed to find the right path, to get that initial break, then she’d be on her way. Blame it on astrology. Blame it on her parents, who she never mentioned. Blame the music, the drugs, the people around her. If every man and every woman is a star, constantly changing with each new event affecting him or her consciously or subconsciously, then Morag was a supernova.

To keep people entertained while we all struggle to find our feet in a world suddenly flipped upside down – I’m releasing Dancing in Valhalla in weekly installments.

Read them each week on FaceBook or WordPress. Receive notifications via Twitter, Tumblr, GoodReads, or Amazon.

No charge. No obligation. Read for free. Share with your friends.

Cheers.

Full published version includes 13 twisted tales of music, magick, mayhem & murder.

Some torn from headlines in sunny South Africa where, for many, these are part of everyday life.

Shop for shrunken heads in a village that time forgot.

Witness an ancient ritual passed down from the Aztecs through Jack the Ripper to modern-day London.

Savour the sweet taste of revenge in a French restaurant.

And sit in on the Grim Reaper’s disciplinary hearing.

Relax and enjoy an assortment of characters nearly as twisted as the endings of these 13 tales of psychological suspense.

Physical paperback copies are once again available from BookDealers of Rivonia – 40 Wessel Road, Rivonia, Sandton.

And from Snow Lion in 7th Street, Melville.

Expanded distribution – all proceeds to charity

Burning Books are now available at Snow Lion in 7th Street, Melville, along with some fellow authors’ books.

Explore new South African paperbacks by South African authors – most stories set in and around Johannesburg – available at huge discounts during lockdown.

Street poetry. Kids books. Tips on how to improve your finances. And my own twisted tales of mystery, music, magick & mayhem.

All books are also available on Amazon. Check them out first before you buy.

Shorty’s Poems – www.amazon.com/author/shorty

My 4 paperbacks – www.amazon.com/author/burning

And my mate Richard’s Puzzle Train – www.thepuzzletrain.com

You can also pick up Snow Lion masks, sanitizer, gloves, handmade soaps and body treats, along with Snow Lion’s normal range of jewelery, incense, statues, singing bowls, Buddhist DVDs, yoga mats, lotions and potions, candles and creams. All made with love.

https://www.snowlion.co.za/

Burning Books video introduction

Two pints of lager and a packet of crisps

Several twists and turns later, they stopped to get their breath back. Noddy was starting to sober up. All that time and effort spent tossing back beers, destroyed by a surge of adrenaline.

“You’re still insane, you know that?” He managed to get this out while propping himself against a wall, drawing great gulps of air into his lungs. Morag smiled sweetly and winked as she dug in her pocket and handed over his share of the cash.

She’d lost one of her earrings in the dash to safety. Which was just as well. They had been a beautifully-matched pair of dried, used tampons, dangling from silver sleepers. Mick sold these as novelty jewellery at the local flea market, and they seemed to be taking off. His other innovations included necklaces made from cats’ ears, and top hats much like the one their victim had worn. On demand, Mick could supply a fully-fledged catskin. No questions were ever asked.

“You should have seen your face.” Morag had obviously recovered enough breath to laugh. “Getting soft, are we? What happened to your Viking blood?”

Noddy pushed himself upright and started off down the alley. His life was interesting enough without hanging around psychopathic criminals.

“Hey. Stick around. Maybe I’ll buy you a drink when we get to Valhalla.”

Which showed that she wasn’t completely beyond redemption.

To keep people entertained while we all struggle to find our feet in a world suddenly flipped upside down – I’m releasing Dancing in Valhalla in weekly installments.

Read them each week on FaceBook or WordPress. Receive notifications via Twitter, Tumblr, GoodReads, or Amazon.

No charge. No obligation. Read for free. Share with your friends.

Cheers.

Full published version includes 13 twisted tales of music, magick, mayhem & murder.

Some torn from headlines in sunny South Africa where, for many, these are part of everyday life.

Shop for shrunken heads in a village that time forgot.

Witness an ancient ritual passed down from the Aztecs through Jack the Ripper to modern-day London.

Savour the sweet taste of revenge in a French restaurant.

And sit in on the Grim Reaper’s disciplinary hearing.

Relax and enjoy an assortment of characters nearly as twisted as the endings of these 13 tales of psychological suspense.

Physical paperback copies are once again available from BookDealers of Rivonia – 40 Wessel Road, Rivonia, Sandton.

And from Snow Lion in 7th Street, Melville.

Rob a bank (wanna)

“I need to hit the bank.” Morag turned into an alley between two blocks of flats. Her companion staggered along, arm in arm with his new date. Noddy brought up the rear.

They made a cute couple. Hawaiian shirt and black leather. Italian shoes and Doc Martens. Long wavy hair and spiked green mohawk. Noddy almost felt sorry for the guy, imagining his expression when he woke up next to her in the morning. Morag was a good-looking girl, but this was an acquired taste.

His commiserations were premature. Halfway along the alley, Morag swung her date against a wall. Hard. Noddy could practically feel the back of his head bounce against the bricks. The ridiculous hat fell to the ground. Morag grabbed a handful of the Hawaiian shirt, and a knife appeared in her free hand.

“Your wallet. Now.”

Glazed eyes struggled to grasp this new concept in dating. In slow motion, he reached for the knife.

Morag slashed his palm, smacked him in the face with her elbow and backhanded him so his head bounced off the bricks again, all in one smooth movement. Noddy was impressed.

“Money. Now. Don’t try that again, or my boyfriend here will stab you in the face.”

This was pure exaggeration. Noddy might have had a relationship with her once, but he’d screwed that up a long time ago. The man looked slowly in Noddy’s direction, tears clouding his vision, and all Noddy could do was shrug and smile encouragingly. What choice did he have? Walk away, and leave him to the tender mercies of the queen of the night? Try to get him out of the jam, and risk his own disembowelment? At least if Noddy played along, they might all live to tell the tale.

The victim reached in his back pocket and handed over his wallet with trembling hands. The typical bulging macho wallet. Morag dropped it somewhere inside her leather jacket, then grabbed the chain from around his neck.

“Your watch. And the chains.”

He was starting to catch on at last, as these were removed more quickly. They disappeared into the depths of the jacket, then Morag slammed another elbow into his face. His head cracked one last time against the wall before he slid into the urine-stained gutter.

Morag took off down the alley like a winged mammal escaping from the netherworld, looking back over her shoulder.

“Come on!”

Noddy decided to tag along.

Hard to believe I launched Dancing in Valhalla on Amazon a year ago. To mark the occasion – and to keep people entertained while we all struggle to find our feet in a world suddenly flipped upside down – I’ll be releasing the title story in weekly installments.

Read them each week on  FaceBook or WordPress. Receive notifications via Twitter, Tumblr, GoodReads, or Amazon.

No charge. No obligation. Read for free. Share with your friends.

Cheers.

Morag wants to fly to the States and shag her favourite singer.

Noddy wants to leave Johannesburg, move to the coast and get a fresh start.

Janine wants Noddy to find a job and settle down.

Dirk just wants to run his nightclub and live a peaceful life.

But Mick… ah, Mick… There will be no peace once Mick comes out of his coma.

For anyone.

Ever again.

Experience life on the streets in 1980s Hillbrow as five volatile personalities struggle to survive a violent rollercoaster ride through Johannesburg’s underground club scene.

Full published version includes 13 twisted tales of music, magick, mayhem & murder.

Some torn from headlines in sunny South Africa where, for many, these are part of everyday life.

Shop for shrunken heads in a village that time forgot.

Witness an ancient ritual passed down from the Aztecs through Jack the Ripper to modern-day London.

Savour the sweet taste of revenge in a French restaurant.

And sit in on the Grim Reaper’s disciplinary hearing.

Relax and enjoy an assortment of characters nearly as twisted as the endings of these 13 tales of psychological suspense.

Physical paperback copies are once again available from BookDealers of Rivonia – 40 Wessel Road, Rivonia, Sandton – 011 234 1250. Open from 9 to 2 on Saturday and Sunday & from 9 to 5 from Monday to Friday.
Strict protocols will be observed.
Wear a mask or you won’t be allowed in.

And if anyone has taken the trouble to read this far – my new short story, Book of Faces, is free on Amazon today (Amazon time). Also “free” to read on Kindle Unlimited. Enjoy.

Dancing in Valhalla – free weekly serialization – part 1

Noddy felt like the fat girl in a strip club. Nobody wanted to catch his eye.

Unless he counted the long-haired teenager on the other side of the bar. With a Motorhead shirt and sleeveless denim jacket exposing upper arms covered in tattoos. Three days’ stubble added a touch of maturity to a face that might otherwise have been seen as childlike.

Except for his sad eyes, older than they had any right to be.

That wasn’t unusual, though, not in the 1980s, and especially not in Johannesburg. It didn’t make him special. Noddy knew dozens of kids who looked the same, dressed the same. Felt the same. No job. No money. No prospects.

He shook his head. He couldn’t look at that face any longer.

A bristle of punks shouted about whose round it was next, with the inevitable shoving and spitting. As they bumped against him, Noddy tore his gaze from the mirror on the other side of the bar.

Then the barmaid in Mike’s Tavern spotted him amid the commotion and rolled her eyes as she slid him another round. Noddy raised the glasses in salute and took a sip from each one. Easier to carry that way.

Morag greeted the fresh drink with a wink and a smile. Noddy turned away as she bent over the pool table, aiming for the pocket in the far corner. Too much leather and fishnets. If such a thing was possible.

She had arrived an hour earlier, claiming to be grabbing a quick drink on her way to the club. Noddy should have known better.

Morag’s opponent grinned. His raised glass missed his mouth. He frowned at it. Tried again. Long black curls formed an oiled halo around his face. Tighter curls filled the gap between two sides of an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt. A large gold crucifix bounced off these curls every time he moved. Gold chains encircled his wrists. And a Mad Hatter top hat clung precariously to his head.

Noddy shook his head again.

Morag took a long sip of her beer. She watched her opponent line up his shot. Every time he was ready to hit the ball, he lost his balance and had to start again from scratch, one finger waving above his head to show that he was still conscious.

Morag punched Noddy lightly on the arm. “You alright for cash?”

Noddy felt in his pockets. He had a few notes tucked away, a handful of coins. His life savings. He found that money was useful, but it came at a price. People didn’t buy things with money. They bought things with chunks of their lives that they had sold to employers who could never possibly have paid them enough by the time their lives were all used up.

“I’ve got a few bob,” he replied. “Could always use more.”

Morag smiled.

Hard to believe I launched Dancing in Valhalla on Amazon a year ago. To mark the occasion – and to keep people entertained while we all struggle to find our feet in a world suddenly flipped upside down – I’ll be releasing the title story in weekly installments.

Read them each week on  FaceBook or WordPress. Receive notifications via Twitter, Tumblr, GoodReads, or Amazon.

No charge. No obligation. Read for free. Share with your friends.

Cheers.

Morag wants to fly to the States and shag her favourite singer.

Noddy wants to leave Johannesburg, move to the coast and get a fresh start.

Janine wants Noddy to find a job and settle down.

Dirk just wants to run his nightclub and live a peaceful life.

But Mick… ah, Mick… There will be no peace once Mick comes out of his coma.

For anyone.

Ever again.

Experience life on the streets in 1980s Hillbrow as five volatile personalities struggle to survive a violent rollercoaster ride through Johannesburg’s underground club scene.

Full published version includes 13 twisted tales of music, magick, mayhem & murder.

Some torn from headlines in sunny South Africa where, for many, these are part of everyday life.

Shop for shrunken heads in a village that time forgot.

Witness an ancient ritual passed down from the Aztecs through Jack the Ripper to modern day London.

Savour the sweet taste of revenge in a French restaurant.

And sit in on the Grim Reaper’s disciplinary hearing.

Relax and enjoy an assortment of characters nearly as twisted as the endings of these 13 tales of psychological suspense.

Physical paperback copies are once again available from BookDealers of Rivonia – 40 Wessel Road, Rivonia, Sandton – 011 234 1250. Open from 9 to 2 on Saturday and Sunday & from 9 to 5 from Monday to Friday.
Strict protocols will be observed.
Wear a mask as you will not be admitted without one.