Category Archives: Fiction

Blues Buster: Drift

Water lapped, slapping the sides of the little boat, and Joe’s oars slipped from his fingers. The ocean, glistening black like treacle, swallowed them without regret. Joe stared, wide-eyed, into the darkness, his pupils dilating as his jaw slackened. Wisps of fog curled about the debris floating on the surface and he gulped as white swirls caressed the drifting scum.

The moon peered through the mist for a moment, illuminating rainbows of oil atop the water, until the gloomy clouds closed rank and Joe was lost again, a single soul in a tiny boat.

He refused to look behind, refused to acknowledge the final flickering flames that sank lower and lower, fading into the night and into the hungry sea, but the wails, that had been vanquished hours ago, still echoed inside his head.

He rubbed his greasy hands, trying to find a spark of warmth, but the cold that had stolen his oars, stole his fingers and then his hands and goose-bumps sent chatters through his teeth. His head shook with cold, and with insanity, and his last grasp on reality slipped away.

He shook his head, trying to evade the demons that swam through his mind, and squinted. Swirls of fog danced across the waves, imitating white horses, but the sea was too still for waves. The hazy spectres waltzed and whirled atop the flotsam and jetsam, and Joe shivered.

A hefty piece of driftwood clunked against the little boat and Joe jumped, and the scars on his heart tore just a little wider as the little boat rocked.

Ghosts reached out to him, white, watery fingers extended and beckoning. Joe sank back, flinching, as the wisps curled about his little boat. Oily streaks ran down his face as terror invaded his head. He huddled down, trying to hide behind a barrel and between a chest and a sack of provisions. The cold fog spread wide and behind him fingers gripped his soaked jacket, tugging and wrenching at his body.

Joe stared wildly about him, slipping out of his sodden coat, and wriggling free of the arms that tried to capture him. He was too crazed to see the fingers were just gusts of icy wind, and he stood, grabbing the chest from the floor of his tiny boat. It took but a moment for the wind to seize its chance and the waves, and debris and driftwood flooded the boat. Joe tumbled into the grasping arms of the sea.

The silent ocean took the renegade fire-starter and dragged both him and the treasure down into its depths, where the ghosts of the recently drowned could finally reap retribution.

(441 Words)

A little something for the last Blues Buster for a bit over at The Tsuruoka Files, for the prompt song: The Turkish Song of the Damned by The Pogues.

Three Line Thursday: Ice

Three Line Thursday: Rails

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Straight and narrow, smooth and strong,

but my gaze seeks only the pebbles,

and the diamonds trapped within…

A new Flash from Three Line Thursday.

A photo prompt and further than that the title speaks for itself…

Five Sentence Fiction: Falling

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Autumn’s Shroud – © Lisa Shambrook

He gently gripped the damp park bench, his gnarled fingers slipping against the lichen, soft and wet, on the underside of the silvered wood. Shivers scrambled up his knotted spine, cold and sharp like a spider with frozen legs, and he clutched at the collar of his worn jacket, his trembling fingers attempting to fasten the topmost button. Giving up, he sighed, and pulled his arthritic legs up tight; for a moment his teeth chattered and his legs shook uncontrollably and then his frail body stilled.

Frost glistened on the ground and a crinkled brown leaf, reminiscent of his wrinkled weathered face, slipped from the tree rooted beside his bench, and silently fell.

As the early hours dawned, autumn’s confetti floated down, finally draping humanity’s loss with nature’s shroud.

My Five Sentence Fiction for the week, based on the prompt word Falling…

Blues Buster: Home…

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Dust motes swirled and danced in the ray of sunshine that flooded the bedroom, and Eli gazed at Aoife’s tumbling dark hair as she stood by the window. The sun glinted and bounced off the silver hairbrush she swept through her curls. His chest rose and fell with a heavy sigh and he relaxed back upon the white cotton pillows. The sheet she clutched slipped a little as she tugged at a stray tangle, and Eli imagined it dropping away from her shoulders altogether. The corner of his mouth twitched in a lazy smile and he wondered what she looked at every morning through the window.

“What d’you see out there, angel?” he asked lacing his fingers behind his head.

Her arm paused, mid-stroke and high in the air then she put the brush down. She pulled the sheet up and rested her hand against the window pane. “Trees, as green as the Emerald Isle, tall woods, stretching back as far as you can see…mountains, huge, snow-capped mountains…” she paused, her hand still flat on the glass, “and lakes,” she added, “up in the mountains. Rivers…blue ribbons of rivers and waterfalls cascading down – can’t you hear them? The water rolling and gushing, icy and cold…”

Eli grinned, his eyes still fixed on her bare back, her spine disappearing into the loose white sheet. Her lies filled the room as the air-con’s chill spread goose-bumps across his skin. He could hear Monday morning traffic, hurrying and bustling through the city streets, and the only green was bright traffic light go. Tower-blocks filled the view as far as the eye could see and the distant mountain ranges had been disguised by a film of smog for as long as he could recall.

“Waterfalls cascading…” she continued, “down to…” Her voice caught and her hand trailed down the glass, leaving an imprint that faded as quickly as her words.

She turned, slowly, the sheet bunched about her body, and her eyes met his. He drowned in her clear blue depths, and his own breath caught in his throat.

“Waterfalls…” she repeated, her yearning eyes filling with unshed tears. “Cascading down to the ocean… To the salt water, the sea, to waves crashing upon beaches and wind dancing atop the foam.”

She stared straight into his heart, salty tears slipping silently down her cheeks.

Conflict battered his soul, as compassion and desire fought to surface. His base passions won and he beckoned her to the bed. “Come, sweetheart, come…” He patted the bed beside him. “One day, my darling, one day I’ll take you back… One day we’ll run away from the city together, we’ll own a cabin in the woods, and we’ll follow the river down to the ocean… One day you’ll swim again in the sea.” He gazed at her, as her white fingers clutched tightly to the sheet about her body. She sat lightly on the bed and he rubbed her shoulders leaning in close to kiss her neck. He whispered as he feathered tiny kisses across her shoulder and down her arm. “One day, angel, but until then you’re mine, and until then we’ll play together…”

He pulled her down onto the bed and gently stripped away her sheet. He ignored her wet cheeks and the way her eyes glazed over as he caressed his prize.

Her expressionless eyes remained open as she slipped away to a far, far ocean and his promises faded, lost and buried in the same place as her pelt.

(584 Words)

My Blues Buster as prompted by ‘Home in the Woods’ by Cory Chisel and the Wandering Sons. There’ll be more tales to read if you pop over to The Tsuruoka Files…

Beneath the Old Oak: Cover Reveal

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Great oaks from little acorns grow…
(14th Century English Proverb)

I’ve been working with Blue Harvest Creative and we’re just about ready to unfurl the brand new cover of my soon-to-be-released follow up to ‘Beneath the Rainbow’…

I wanted a cover in line with ‘Beneath the Rainbow’, but didn’t realise that my own concept which was so similar, was not what I’d ultimately go with. Joni and Vern came up with a new twist to the cover which hints at the deeper story inside! The colours work wonderfully with a story of a young girl desperate to escape her history. The sepia tones surrounding the colour crop make her story even more poignant.

I fell in love with this cover as soon as I saw it, and it looks amazing next to its sister ‘Beneath the Rainbow’!

Blurb:
Meg thinks her mother is broken. Is she broken too?
Meg’s life spirals out of control, and when she mirrors her Mum’s erratic behaviour, she’s terrified she’ll inherit her mother’s sins.
Seeking refuge and escape, she finds solace beneath a huge, old oak. Life is as transient as leaves upon the tree and with the changing seasons, the timeworn tree shares its memories with her and she begins to learn and grow.
Amid the turmoil, Meg wants to run away, but a traumatic turn of events changes everything.
As a storm descends, can Meg survive devastating losses? Will she learn from the tree’s precious memories, and will she discover how to become as strong as the old oak?

Design Credits:
Cover Photograph: Lisa Shambrook

Cover Concept: Lisa Shambrook and Blue Harvest Creative

Cover Design: Blue Harvest Creative

Interior Design and eBook Design: Blue Harvest Creative

Also ‘Beneath the Rainbow’ is currently on Special Offer over at Amazon.

£1.35 for the eBook on Amazon UK or $2.25 in the US…until the 15th October…don’t miss it!

Keep a look out for the launch of ‘Beneath the Old Oak’…COMING SOON!

Five Sentence Fiction: Hunger

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The rain fell, heavy and abrupt, and before Lily had a chance to move she was soaked, the sky’s tears drenching her t-shirt and darkening her mud-splattered jeans. Shaking, dirt-ridden hands hung at her sides and she stared up into the roiling clouds as the heavens wept with her.

Lily bit her lip as her fingers trembled through her straggly tresses then she flung out her arms in defiance as she twirled; starved vengeance served as she whirled. Her hair spun out in heavy, water-laden rat-tails as she ravenously kicked up earth, and the rain danced on her skin and drummed upon the fresh mound under her feet.

Her laugh echoed as she buried far more than a corpse beneath the hammering of dawn’s heavy downpour.

Another Five Sentence Fiction for the word prompt Hunger…make of it what you will in its ambiguity!

Flash! Friday: Retribution

Five Sentence Fiction: Grief

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“Pillarbox red…you know, red like that sexy scarlet lipstick I could never quite pull off…” Aggie’s laugh tinkled in the crisp morning air and she squeezed Harold’s arm. “Orange, well that speaks for itself, then there’s yellow, the kind that we all wore in the sixties or that they make those rubber ducks out of. Green…” she sighed, “the kind of green that spreads across the English countryside…fields and trees and hedges, that kind of green. Summer sky blue, and indigo, like a summer storm, a storm bearing down, broiling and threatening…and violet,” Aggie’s voice broke, just for a moment, “like the stone in my ring, amethyst, like my engagement ring…that’s what it looks like…remember?”

Harold’s foggy eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled and clasped Aggie’s hands tight within his own; he couldn’t see the tears, that rested like dewdrops on her wrinkled cheeks, any more than he could see the rainbow arcing across the sky, but he didn’t need his sight as long as he still had her.

My Five Sentence Fiction for the prompt word ‘grief’ over at Lillie McFerrin’s.

Blues Buster: Long Snake Moan

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Harry’s head swayed and the vein in his temple throbbed as the beat from the party, back on the dunes, thudded through his brain. The moon’s silvered rays cast a diamond pathway before him as he closed his eyes and waded into the deep. Sand caressed his toes and pieces of drifting seaweed curled around his legs. Harry’s heart beat like a jackhammer as he walked, pushing through the sea, allowing the comforting warmth to exorcise his demons. He glanced behind. The beach was almost silent, the only sound the lapping of waves about his belly, rising up to his chest and down again, the thud of the party left far behind, as was his spiteful battle with Angelique.

A sigh escaped his lips and he bent his knees; the water closed over his shoulders and then over his head and he rose, shaking salt and ocean from his hair. He gazed up at the moon and drank in its cool calm, almost regretting the words he and Angelique had shared. He lifted his feet from the ocean floor and relaxed backwards, letting the swell pick him up and cradle him like a baby.

He played the fight over in his head as he floated, and the motion of the waves hypnotised him, drowning his aggression and burying it deep below. Angelique’s voice floated through the dark, its vicious edge lost in the calm of the night, and Harry grinned.

Angelique’s murmur captivated him as he bobbed on the ocean, and his hands moved rhythmically through the water as he turned to face the shore, and his girlfriend. Forgiveness sang in his heart and he lowered his legs to stand. Panic struck, just for a moment, as he realised how far out he’d floated, and then Angelique’s arms embraced him from behind and he let her move him through the water. Her sultry words echoed and her kisses rained down on his lips, then his shoulder, and then on his chest and her hands caressed his body beneath the sea. His heart quickened and blood rushed as her lips tasted his.

He floundered again as his feet searched for the sandy floor, but her legs entwined his and her insistent kisses pushed deeper. He tried to relax and enjoy the seduction, but the night grew darker, as the moon fled behind clouds, and the ocean grew colder. Harry tried to extricate himself from her embrace, but her arms were everywhere and her song weaved through his brain. He kicked and pushed, and gulped as his head dipped below the water. He spluttered and coughed and fought for the surface…swallowing sea as he burst through the watery ceiling.

Free from her grip, he kicked away and turned to find his bearings. His head spun as he tried to locate the shore. The moon peeped out, but offered no help and Angelique’s body slithered towards him through the silver sea. He tried to swim, but she was upon him and dunking him back beneath the ocean before he could escape. Her arms entwined him in chains of steel and her breath whispered across his skin and he sank as her kisses feathered his lips.

No one but the moon saw the futile struggle amid the ocean waves, and no one but the moon saw the crude voodoo figure rudely and hurriedly constructed from driftwood and fishing line, half buried in the sand at Angelique’s feet. The wind whispered through Angelique’s dry hair, and she smiled to herself as she settled into the eager arms of another partygoer, and as the beat thudded behind her she rained kisses down on her new beau’s lips.

(612 Words)

Another Blues Buster prompted by P J Harvey’s ‘Long Snake Moan’. Hop over to The Tsuruoka Files to read more tales…