Month:

February 2018

Microfiction: Lucien & Aldous #4

“I’ve always preferred the eighty-nines myself.” Aldous announced with a noticeable slur. “A more full-bodied vintage for the true sanguinarian.”

Lucien picked a shred of flesh from his teeth with a fingernail. The nail was long and scarlet and didn’t belong to him.

“Aldous, you are such a snob.” He muttered.

Flash Fiction: The Gluemn In God’s Eye

For years I’ve been fascinated by the idea that life may exist under the icy crust of Jupiter’s moon, Europa. In particular I wondered how an intelligent species might mythologise their landscape when the limit of their universe is a miles thick ceiling of ice. This is a glimpse in to life beneath a frozen ocean.

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Book Review: Wild Chamber by Christopher Fowler

Wild Chamber (Bryant & May, #14)Wild Chamber by Christopher Fowler
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I’m a huge fan of the Bryant & May novels by Christopher Fowler and have read them all with relish. They’re particularly fun for me as a Londoner and a history nerd. The author blends historical fact with fiction so well that on occasion I have found myself fact-checking several of the novels in order to distinguish between historical fact and flights of the author’s fancy.

Crime buffs will notice straight away that this story is a variation on a classic crime set up; the locked room mystery. A variation that could only really work in a London setting. The author does a great job of misleading the reader with several red herrings, and I didn’t start to zero in the the killer and his motive until the last few chapters. Even then it remained a rather nebulous notion until the denouement, when all was revealed.

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Microfiction: Lucien and Aldous #2

For the #writethurs challenge in Twitter.

Lucien slurped at his bloody fingers. Gobbets of crimson gore oozed down his chin. Aldous was appalled.

“Manners.” He hissed, proffering a napkin.

Lucien grimaced at the crisp white linen.

“Seriously?” he said, sucking a juicy clot from this thumb. “Who taught you how to be a vampire?”

Microfiction: A Walk In Whitechapel

In response to a one word writing prompt: liminal

Whitechapel is never silent. The ghosts of two millenia crowd the lanes, beckoning, with crimson allure from shadowed doorways, calling to you in brash Cockney from long dismantled stalls. They grasp at your feet as you stroll, oblivious over their plague-rotted remains.