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.
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.
Lucien stared in glum resignation at the tightly drawn curtains. One chink in their folds and the sun would burn them both to a crisp.
“You appear upset.” Aldous ventured.
“This is the true curse of the vampire, Aldous.” Lucien sighed. “To always be denied the matinee discount at the movie theatre.”
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?”
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.
For the #1linewed challenge on Twitter.
“Isn’t this illegal?” He asked, as Lucien twisted the two wires together beneath the steering column.
The car rumbled in to life.
“We’re vampires, Aldous.” Lucien responded. “Everything we do is illegal.”
Inspired by a one word writing prompt: fastidious.
“Is that a smudge?” Mr Arfwick went quite pink.
“Erm…” Tom stammered for a response.
His boss decided not to wait for one.
“Here at Nitpicker & Scruple we believe in fastidious accounting. Start again!”
Tom trudged away. Why had he let his father talk him out of being a pirate?
For the #SockItTueMe writing challenge on Twitter.
“Cover us!” Yelled Agent C, as he and Agent D ran for the chopper.
“I thought we were in this together!” Said Agent I, drawing his gun.
“We are!” Agent D threw herself through the chopper’s open door and signaled the pilot to take off. “But there’s no I in this Team”
When I signed up for NaNoWriMo last year I decided to take a chance on a brand new writing platform. I had tried several, including Scrivener (too complicated), Apollopad (unreliable), and one which was so relentlessly awful I can’t being myself to name and shame it.
As I write in various locations and on several different devices, my main priority was finding a platform that allowed me to save my work to a remote server, something I had been waiting in vain for Scrivener to provide for years.
For the #FolkloreThursday challenge on Twitter
“Have you ever stood, listening to the silence that comes after the snow? There is nothing to rival such quiet. But don’t linger too long in your chilly wonder. That silence is the world holding its breath, waiting to see if the monster will pounce.”