Thursday 19 September 2013

Archived Inspiration

Before I wrote and published The Bronze Box (http://amzn.to/18C5gub) I wrote three books in a series I called The Chronicles of The Colony. Fantasy adventure stories set in the fictional world of The Colony.
I needed to write these books so that I could learn how to write books.
They are now archived away in a gloomy and dusty corner of my hard drive.
The first book, Running Free, evolved from a story that I started forming back when I was a teenager and it wasn't until a few years ago that I finally got around to writing it.
So here goes, here is an unreleased chapter from an unpublished book (what do you think?): 
 
My dear friend Hero,



        An absent friend is no less dear. 

I beseech you, go.  Return to The Kingdom for our enemy comes for us.

I have been in league with Houdini, and he warns me that Tornty intends to come for us, both of us. 

She wishes to deal for us - Our lives, for Scarroh’s.

Protect your family, protect yourself.  But for the love of Mother Earth do not let Tornty’s forces capture you, for it will only end in pain and humiliation. 

Carlton and Rascal will never give up the traitor Scarroh, even for us.  This is my only warning. 

I love you brother, flee, go now while there is time and may we be reunited in the home we love so dearly and fight side by side to defend it.



     Your loyal friend

        Myrchen

Hero

“Go, please.  Never look back.”
“No.  Please Hero no,” she pleaded, clutching to me desperately, falling to her knees as she begged me not to do it.
“You must!”  I insisted, though it broke my heart.
“Could we not come with you?  Surely we can find a home in Turnbaer.”
“It’s not safe.  For even now I hear rumours of the new King expelling all Bale-Orreans and Kharr-Attens.  It’s not safe for you,” I said, allowing the terror in my heart to embellish my words.  I asked so little of her, in all our years together, but this, needed her to do.
“But you serve the Kings brother, surely he would help us find sanctuary?  Please Hero, no.  Don’t do this to us.”
Angered now I shook her away from me.  Why could she not understand it?
“I must go!  It is my sworn duty.  I must fight with my kin,” feeling the burn of my honour and loyalty scorching my soul.  This was the hardest thing I would ever face and she was making it harder.  I wanted to shake her, I wanted to wail and cry, anything to convince her of the danger we were facing.
She was angry now, I could see the pulse of it in her eyes, as if her heart had surged into flame - she shouted her defiance.
“Duty?”  I’d never seen her beautiful face so twisted with wrath, “You speak of duty!  What about your duty to your family?”
“Rascal is my family.  Turnbaer is my home?”
“And me?  Your Children?  What are we?  Are we nothing to you?  Damn you Hero and your foolish pride!”  she spat the tirade.  Her fear, her desperation, her love for me, a noxious concoction that boiled and frothed in malice.  I know her well enough to realise that she felt betrayed by me.  I was killing her, but it was the only way I could save her precious life.
“Enough Martha!” I raised my hand to her, she cowered back, afraid I may strike her.  In my life I had never been so close to doing it.  Yet it was not her I wished to hurt for tearing this family to shreds.  She was not my enemy.
I softened, soothed my tone and stilled my fervour.
“Understand me.  Please,”  now it was I that begged.  I reached for her, but she backed away.
“I won’t hurt you!”  I was wounded that she may think me capable of hitting her in anger.
“You already have!”
She turned her back to me, and gazed out of the window into the flowing rains.  They pattered on the glass relentlessly, drumming out their misery, darkening our once happy home.
“Martha I…”  I walked to her, raised my hands to hold her and hesitated.
“You need to go,” I repeated.  “Go anywhere, you know where I keep the cash.  Take it, take it all, but just go.  Take the children and save yourselves.  I beg you.  Darling, please.”
“You cannot buy my submission with cash,” she responded defiantly.
“That’s not what I’m doing and you know it!”
She continued to face away from me.  My heart was tearing itself apart.  She must know that this was the last thing I could ever want?  To leave her and young daughters? 
If only the girls were here, but they were at Martha’s mothers house.  I wouldn’t have time to go and say goodbye, I would have to find another way to tell them how much their father loved them.  And I would pray to Mother Earth that I would see them again.
Martha was closing herself off now.  Refusing to argue any more and refusing to obey me. 
A crash of thunder, and seconds later a spear of lighting lit up her silhouette with a silver shimmer.  I saw her shuddering with sorrow.  Knowing she was silently sobbing, but unable to soothe her.  For the agony was too much to bear.  I longed to pull her into my arms and stay with her, to do my duty as a father and husband to protect her, but there was no escaping the fact that I was the biggest threat to them.  A wanted man who our enemies would never stop searching for.  I couldn’t risk Martha and the girls falling in the firing line.  Why did she not understand this? 
“I must go,” I sighed, grabbing my knapsack and dragging it wearily onto my shoulder, “Take only what you can carry and take the girls far away from here.  Promise me!” 
She nodded solemnly but still refused to look at me.
“Goodbye Martha,” I began to leave the room.  As I reached the door I paused, I glanced back at her perfect outline, shadowed against the window.
“I love you.” 
I turned, and left.
The rain was thankfully easing off as I stepped into the sneering night.  It dappled my hat, and I pulled the collar of my coat up and hunched my neck into it, trudging wretchedly down the path.
“Wait!”
I stopped and turned to see her chasing me down the path, the mud spattered up her skirt as she plunged towards me.
I let my knapsack slide down my arm and splat into the mud, and met her with my arms as she leapt into them.
She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me over and over on the cheeks. 
“I can’t bare to part on sour words,” she sobbed.
I clutched her tightly to me, folding her into my heart.  Nuzzling my face into her sweet neck, fragrant with her familiar scent.
“Promise me something Hero.”
“Anything.”
She tilted her head away and looked me hard in the eyes,
“You’ll be careful?  Come back to us.”
“I promise you.  I will do all I can.”
“I love you.” 
And with that, she squashed her lips into mine passionately and we enjoyed that final kiss goodbye.


Tuesday 17 September 2013

15 reasons why Bristol is ‘more British’ than Bath



I read an article today on http://sabotagetimes.com/ claiming that Bristol was better than Bath.  I happen to agree, but I have a different take on it.


A friend of mine told me how Bristol was described in an US guide book.  I’m paraphrasing, but the gist of it was; Bristol is a place to get a cheap hotel room when you are on your way to Bath.  


I was outraged! 

Is that all Bristol is to anyone outside the UK – A place on the way to Bath?  


No, no, no tourists of the globe - it’s the other way around.


If you would like a glimpse of the Epcot stereotype of Englishness – Jane Austin, Georgian splendour and fine cheeses - then Bath’s your place.  But if you want to experience what modern Britain is really all about, come to Bristol.

Here are my 15 reasons why Bristol is awesome and more representative of modern Britain than Bath: 

1)  Cultural and Ethnic diversity – living and working together for the benefit of the whole city.  We’re a City of Sanctuary (http://www.cityofsanctuary.org/).  

2)  Food.  The days of fish and chips and tea and scones representing British Cuisine are over.  In Bristol you can do a food tour of the globe.  Modern British cuisine in Bristol is a fusion of great flavours, sourced locally and cooked with passion.

3)  Cider.  Our beverage of choice.  Bristol is the place to go for great local ciders.  I mean proper cider, made by apple geeks whose families have passed down their knowledge through generations.

4)  Craft beer.  Beer brewed in converted lockups by bearded men who know everything there is to know about beer and the best yeast, hops and barley to make it with.  Beer made in small, delicious batches around the city.

5)  Urban Art.  We have the biggest street gallery in Europe.  The city that spawned and encouraged Banksy has two whole festivals dedicated to street art (www.upfest.co.uk and http://www.seenoevilbristol.co.uk/)

6)  Music.  You can see live music any night of the week somewhere in the city, and I don’t mean at one of the big Venues like the Colston Hall or O2 Academy

7)  Theatre.  Only in Bristol would a factory that used to make tobacco be converted into a Theatre (http://www.tobaccofactory.com/ ).  Off the top of my head I can count 8 independent theatres in Bristol.  Showcasing the weird, wonderful and best of emerging talent out there, as well as the big shows.

 8)  Independent spirit.  We have the longest road of independent shops in Europe (Gloucester Road) and are so sick of mainstream politics we voted in an independent Mayor to shake things up in what has been rebranded as ‘City Hall’ as it belongs to the city not the Council.

 9)  Shopping. We have all the usual gaggle of chain shops but they are assembled in a fantastic piece of architecture (http://www.cabotcircus.com/) and not some neo-georgian pastiche of a shopping centre like the one in Bath

10)  Bristol Time.  Greenwich Mean Time was established to unify time across the UK when the Great Western Railway was built (http://wwp.greenwichmeantime.co.uk/info/bristol-time.htm).  A clock over the Corn Exchange in Bristol shows that in Bristol we’re 10 minutes behind Greenwich.

11) Architecture.    Our architecture is a visual record of the turbulent history of the city.  Some of it is beautiful, some of it is an eye sore but all of it has a story in tune with the cultural development of the whole of the UK.  We even have our very own Architectural style, unique to Bristol – Bristol Byzantine.

 12)  Reclaiming spaces.  Pop up shops in empty buildings are a familiar sight on the shopping streets of Bristol. If you leave a piece of ground unattended for too long in Bristol someone will turn it into a park or an allotment.

 13)  Strong sense of identity.  We have our own dialect and our own currency.  We are Bristolian and proud (http://bristolpound.org/ )

 14)  Engineering.  The most influential characters of the Industrial Revolution did it in Bristol.  Isambard Kingdom Brunel – The Suspension Bridge, revolutionary in its construction.  Temple Meads Station, the heart of the railways.  The SS Great Britain, the first ship of iron and the great, great grandma of all large oceangoing vessels (http://ssgreatbritain.org/ ).  
Also;  Rolls Royce, Airbus, and a business park dedicated to science

15)  And finally, if you want Victorian splendour and a taste of oldie-worldie England – head to Clifton (It’s like little Bath but with better views).


I could fill this blog post with lots of cool photos of the city – but honestly, it’s better to see for yourself (http://visitbristol.co.uk)



(I couldn't resist one iconic image of Bristol though)

Bristol Suspension Bridge