Tag: short story

The villains are made. But what of the new hero’s?



As the title suggests, the villains have been created. The villains of my sequel to the Bugbear adventure I’m preparing to write that is. I found some notes from around 18 months ago that had, along with the Vampire, Gargoyle, Dragon and Demon, Giants and Werewolves as the villains for this sequel of mine. And, though writing about Giants and Werewolves sounds great, I didn’t fancy having to juggle too many bad guys at any given time. I have finished the villain’s short story that I mentioned at the end of my last post and have crafted the starts of a plan for the villains to combat the new scourge of their lives, the hunters. A plan is in motion so when I come to write the whole sequel, I can at least have a starting point.

I considered writing about the Giants and Werewolves but I’d prefer to be able to calmly create four villains than possibly botch creating six. And in the past I’ve not enjoyed creating loads of villains anyway. I’ve already got seven (so far) hunters to scribble about and I’ve decided to make three out of the four villains have vast amount amounts like them as well. The Vampire will at least have an army at his disposal. An army which can be added to at any time. And, three of the seven hunters only saw real battle at the end of Town of the Mountain, so they’re on a steep learning curve to say the least. Which is the main focus of….

My next short story. Which is already finished! It concerns the newest hero’s to this tale, three of the four hunters that survived almost being beaten to death by the hunters of the town of the mountain, who then survived a hoard of bugbears not long afterwards (for more information, either ask me or look back over my previous blog posts). The three, Jackson, Meredith and Albert, have been sent to London to tackle its Dragon problem. They engage the beast in a heated physical and mental battle before the Dragon retreats. Or so they think. These three may or may not act separately from the main hunters but I’m not quite sure yet. I’ll have to mull it over. I’m glad it all formed on the page enough so that I had a starting point at least. I’m yet to write all the character profiles so this could all go out of the window.

Anyway, in between all of this I’ve kept on reading Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson. I’m just about getting used to the language used, which is well old and with a lot of Scottish words and ways of speaking, but thankfully I can still read it smoothly enough. If I couldn’t, the book would have been out of the tram window in no time. I’ll let you know if I do. And try and take of picture of it as well.

Right then, Bye!


A story almost done…but my 2nd 10k run completed!



So, following on from last time, the next short story that will help to shape my ‘Town of the Mountain’ follow up is shaping up nicely. It’s entitled ‘The Worry’ and centres on Eriden Grainger, the chief heroine of the Town of the Mountain. I wondered how I would go about this story and, like the first story ‘The Hunt’, I just wrote what I felt like writing.

Eriden is worried that she isn’t as good a hunter as she used to be. The Town of the Mountain ended with an almighty battle featuring all the bugbears of the forest, of which there were chuffin loads, attacking the hunters. Our hero hunters won but now that the town is peaceful, and has been for a while when we drop back into Eriden’s life. It is very quiet and very boring. You see, there aren’t any bugbears to fight. Or any monsters of any kind for that matter. So, with this in mind she decides to join up with Markus in Manchester to fight off the City’s demon infestation. However, she feels out of shape and worries that she may not be able to do what she did for her town for a big city. She also worries about her new boyfriend and not being around for him. And she worries about her mother, who has finally started talking to her again after years of neglecting her, will become as distant as she used to be. My, oh my have I given her a lot of worries. It does mean that the story is flowing quite well and I’m able to try my hand at writing emotional stuff and that. Which is something I actually quite like to write. I will hopefully have finished the story by this time next week so I’ll let you know how it went.

And…I ran the Bupa Manchester 10K for the second year running! I had been worrying about how I would do in the weeks running up to the run. I put myself down for the second wave which is one up from last year. Immediately in my head I thought that everyone else was going to be faster than me and leave me in their collective dust thus allowing me to finish last out of a hell of a lot of people. But, as the race drew nearer and I inched my way forward towards the starting line my confidence grew. And…I was off! I was tempted to just go for it at the beginning but I settled into a comfortable pace. The amazing heat didn’t help matters but the support of strangers on the side lines was brilliant. I finished it in 54 mins exactly in 6533rd place. That was 50 seconds quicker than last time and 2094 places higher. I’m happy to say the least. Got a medal as well.

Right then. I’m off. Thanks for reading and have a good week.

Good bye

Hello feedback my old friend. How I cherish thee.


After posting a short story I’ve been working on for a bit in my last post I received plenty of feedback. This was all quite helpful and very much needed. After going back over the story with the feedback in mind I could see where the story needed to be improved. Thank you to all those who commented on it. I’ll be reviewing and editing said story soon and I’ll probably post it back up for more comments.

I haven’t had any of my stories critiqued in a while so this was all very refreshing. I received some good comments about the story as a whole. Lori Fetters Lopez gave some very valued feedback indeed. Thank you Lori. I also received some good, honest and straight to the point comments about my grammar and use of commas from a few editors that frequent the Facebook writing groups I’m part of. David Neely, Sean Cleary and Roy C. Booth thank you for time and words.

If I could give any advice about being a writer it would be to embrace all kinds of feedback and take all the good parts from it. If you find yourself on the receiving end of someone’s rant about your story just so they can use a whole host of long and not needed words then just laugh at it and pick out the bits you can actually use.

Right, I’m going to get back to it. And if there are any grammatical errors in this post, either let me know or leave me to find them later.


A new short story of mine.


This is a short story I finished a few months ago. I’ve been over it many times but would like a fresh view and feedback if possible.

It’s about a man who has lived all his life with a high pain thresh hold. This means he doesn’t feel the cold or the heat in the same way that everyone else does. He can feel these things but only at the last minute. He has felt trapped and lonely for most of his life so far. Until he decides to go for a run one Saturday morning…

The doctors have never been able to fully diagnose his condition. They settled on an extremely high pain thresh hold but it did not explain why he could not completely feel hot or cold temperatures. He is twenty nine years old, six foot tall, has short blonde hair and a nice looking face. His name is Oliver. There is no known cure for him.

“They won’t treat you differently.” his pixie like mother said one Friday morning in the kitchen.

“How do you know?” He replied. She looked around nervously and then back into his eyes. He gave her a kiss on the cheek but before he could leave she gave him a warm hug.

Oliver’s job was to distribute work to the employees of a small administration company. None of them knew about his condition. He and reluctantly his parents decided that only they would know. Oliver consequently only let a few people into his life at any given time through fear of being looked at or treated differently. He thought some people might find it cool but he didn’t want to take that chance.

“I can’t come out after work mate; I’m cooking dinner for my Mrs” His Italian looking friend Peter said. Oliver nodded and said they’d do it another time. He always felt lonely when Peter did anything with his other half. He felt the same way whenever he saw a couple holding hands. He quietly made his way home.

“Oliver!” his dad said from the bottom of the stairs. He had fallen asleep in the bath again which to him felt like he was wrapped in a slimy blob from the neck down. He only got out and got dressed after seeing how shrivelled up his body had become. “What’s that on your hand, son?” his dad said as he got to the bottom of the stairs. His dad was a short, portly, overly concerned man who fussed over him a lot. Oliver knew he was just trying to be his friend so he didn’t object.

“Oh, I burned myself the other day. It’s alright now though.” He said looking at the red mark on the outside of his right little finger. He burnt it whilst frying some bacon and as always only moved his hand when it was too late. He’d felt the pain but only at the last possibly second. He did like being able to withstand high amounts of pain but what he really wanted was to be mindful of going near a fire or being out in the cold for too long.

The following morning he decided to go for a run. As he was running on a clear Saturday morning he spotted a fire engine up the street. Getting closer he saw the wild flames climbing up the house next to it and remembered to stay back because of the heat. He looked up and saw a room and heard the cries of a baby inside.

Oliver knew he had a good chance of saving the baby. He quickly ran into the house and climbed the now almost completely fire ridden stairs. He knocked the door down and grabbed the baby as the smoke began to build. It made him cough ferociously as the stairs collapsed with an almighty bang. He went back into the baby’s room and shouted down to the firemen. They quickly sent up a ladder and brought them to safety.

“Can’t you feel that?” the mother said after taking the baby and hugging the life out of him. A news reporter and camera had appeared just behind her. Oliver looked down and saw numerous red marks on his legs and arms. He had briefly forgotten he was wearing shorts and t-shirt.

“Not completely. I can’t feel hot or cold.” He said without thinking. He’d never felt happier than after saying those six little words. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
In the following weeks he became a local celebrity. He received an invitation to attend a nerve damage conference and accepted it for his mother’s sake. Peter insisted he go along with him. They sat down and waited for it to start.

“Hello, I’m Michelle.” A cute brunette girl with a flower in her hair said as she sat down next to him. She put out her hand and he was reluctant to shake it. “It’s ok. I can’t feel hot or cold either.”