Tuesday, 31 January 2012

Dancing Flames - Discovery.

Hello :D How is everyone? I'm good, thanks, despite the fact I have a spot the size of Pluto on my nose >.< But other than that...good :)
Thanks everyone for the comments on my last post! I never expected there to be so much interest in it, but obviously I was wrong :D I'll make more posts like that in the future. If you haven't seen the post click here.
Now, because I'm an epic fail, the story I said would only be 2000 words turned out to be over 4000. Hmmm. To make things up for you, I've split it up and named each part differently. Part 1 is Discovery and it's quite short. Enjoy!

*And yes this is the story with Fintan, Salvatore and Arianna in it, but you don;t meet the latter two until later*

Dancing Flames

Fintan sat on his bed and wriggled backwards. His legs were crossed beneath him and he could feel his thighs being squeezed by his black skinny jeans. He could smell the sweat coming out from under his arms, and the disgusting pair of socks that lay scattered on the floor, banished from his feet not two minutes before. The room was dark and silent, almost eerie. Fintan hadn’t wanted to turn the lights out, but he didn’t have a choice. He had to check whether what had happened in P.E was a fluke, a trick of light, his own imagination. There was only one way to find out...

Fintan laid his hands flat on the duvet, the palms facing upwards. He took a deep breath and curled his fingers round, turning his hand into a fist. Would it work? Part of him prayed it would - that part that longed to be different, that little part that said “Go stand on the roof naked! Eat ten jam doughnuts! Wear a multicoloured headband to school!” Most of the time those thoughts were pushed to the side, to make room for the part of him that wished it to be fake. The normal part. The part that wanted to be liked, the part that swept his fringe to the side when he saw Arianna, the girl he fancied, the part that screamed to be noticed even when he was sleeping. The rational part. The part boys very rarely seemed to have. Fintan shifted his position and took another deep breath. “Well. Here goes,” he whispered. He closed his eyes and opened his hand.

He knew it had worked before he had even seen the tiny flame spark from his palm. He had felt the tingling, the flash of heat and the hairs on his arms stand up on end. Fintan peeled his eyes apart and peeked at his hands. There were flames, miniature fires waving at him, moving in time to his pulse, his breath. They danced on his palm. Fintan stared at them for a moment, mesmerised. He closed his hands and tried again. The flames were bigger this time, brushing the tip of his hair. There was a sizzle and Fintan jumped backwards. His fingers flew to the tip of his hair. He touched it and felt tiny flakes of ash crumble onto the duvet. Pushing his hair behind his ear, he sat on his hands and furrowed his brow.

He could make fire from his palms. He could make fire. Fintan shook his head. That wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be possible. But it was. Three times it had happened, and twice he had burned his hair, making it curl and sizzle. The heat made his hair burn, but not his hand. It looked and acted like real fire, and it would probably burn paper with ease. But why? How? It made no sense. He hadn’t been able to do it yesterday. Or the day before. Or the day before that...

Fintan frowned and lay down on his bed. He flicked the light switch and the room lit up, bright as day. He glanced around the room. Presents and wrapping paper were strewn across the floor, video games like COD mixing with iTunes vouchers and silly little tops his Auntie still though he liked. He had forgotten that it was his birthday earlier. It was half twelve now, so that would make it yesterday that his birthday was. He had just turned fifteen.

Fintan turned his attention to the walls. His new Shrillrex posters hung from there, peeling at the edges. They couldn’t get used to the idea of being flat, not rolled up into a tube. The band members stood with their guitars by their sides and their black make-up rolling down their faces like tears. The black walls were dark and daunting to most people, but Fintan found them calming. He liked dark. He liked Goth. He loved heavy metal. He had dyed his hair black and grown it long when he was thirteen; he had started listening to Shrillex last year, before they were popular.

Fintan sighed and looked back up at the ceiling. He opened and closed his palm, watching out the corner of his eye. Sure enough, an orange and red spark floated upwards. Fintan carefully lifted his palm and pointed it downwards. The flame pointed downwards as well, dangling in mid-air.  Fintan smiled. He could have fun with this. Maybe if he just...Fintan concentrated and the flame doubled in size.  Fintan’s smile turned into a grin. Time to get experimenting.

Saturday, 28 January 2012

What's in a name?

Bit of  a different post today, just because I felt like it :)

Now, some of you might have noticed that some of the names I use for my characters are, well, weird. Take the heroine of my book for example. Lexie. Its a pretty odd name, not exactly one you would find on the street. However, there is an actual reason for her name. In fact, there is a reason why my characters sometimes have strange names - Meanings. Baby name meanings.

Yup. I spend most of time before writing a story on thinkbabynames.com and other sites. Don't get me wrong, some of the character's names just jump into my head - like Matt from my story 'Matt' - but when a character has a strong personality trait or physical look, the first thing I do is pop on the internet.

Ok, so back to Lexie. I spent ages trying to find a name for her. She was originally called Lana, which means 'afloat' in Hawaiian , but the name didn't suit her. So, I went browsing, and eventually I found it, the name I was looking for. Lexie. Lexie is a variant of Alexandra, which means 'defender of man'. I fell in love with it as soon as I saw it. It fitted Lexie's character perfectly. She's strong, brave and it's not hard to picture her as a Roman gladiator, with a spear in her hand. It's also quite ironic in Lexie's case, as she was made to destroy men, not defend them. Funnily enough, Alex in 'Over and Out' is a variant of Alexandra as well - fitting seeing as she destroys hordes of zombies.

A couple of times this frantic name searching has paid off, and been used in a story as a main component. For example, the villain in 'Willow Hall' is called Lilith. This is essential in the story as Matt (wow, I use that name a lot!) rightly point out that it means witch.  Here's a small list of names that mean something.

Andrea - manly (Human Hunt)
Lucy - light..as in good. (Lucy)
Fintan - white fire (In my next story)
Arianna - silver (In my next story)
Salvatore - saviour (In my next story)
Julie Yaxley - Yaxley is the surname of a Death eater in Harry Potter. I've also hidden hundreds of HP references throughout my blog. Most recently the constant appearance of the number 394 ("Turn to page 394." - Snape) and the *accidental* likeness of Tom Marley to a famous Harry Potter actor.

Chris Rankin/ Percy Weasley/ Tom Marley :D
So, yeah, that's how I choose names for my characters. Comment if you liked this post - I'd quite like to do more of them!

Tuesday, 24 January 2012

Redanena Part 2

Hello! Just wanted to let you know that I got to 200 pages of Wolfbane :O Yey! And happy Burns night! For those of you who don't know, the 25th of January is Rabbie Burns birthday, and it is a celebrated occasion in Scotland.
This has to be quick because I've got some major studying to do, but here is Redanena Part 2! Enjoy :D To see Part 1, click here.

Redanena Part 2

“Here we are.”

I glanced up from the floor and found myself face to face with a glass door. The numbers 394 were written on it in black pen, and there was a small swipe machine on the wall beside it.

“On you go.” Tom smiled at me, his eyes wide.

“Eh, don’t you have one? A card, I mean?”

“No. I’m off duty...I need to do an extra experiment on the specimen. Off record, I you know what I mean.”

I felt my heart contract again, but this time it was with anger. He called the hostage a specimen. Like he wasn’t alive, like he wasn’t a being. I had the sudden urge to punch him, to kick all his ideas of experiments out of that puny brain of his. He no longer seemed attractive...now he just looked like a monster.

“Ok,” I said through gritted teeth. I pulled the card from my pocket and swiped it down the machine. There was beep and the door swung open. I smiled at Tom, but it was hard and fake. Another minute and I would show him...

Tom grinned and pushed the door open fully. “Ladies first.”

I stepped inside the room and gasped. It was huge, with long worktables and a row of computers and machines near the back. The lighting casted a faint green glow over the white enamel surfaces. I took another step forward and the strong smell of chemicals wafted into my nose. I glanced at the side. There was a distillation kit on a table, dripping blue liquid into a flask. Drip. Drip. Drip. The liquid was the same colour of my sweat, fluorescent and light. I peeled my eyes away from it and instead turned back round to face Tom.

He walked into the room and closed the door. “So, what did you need to do in here?”

“I need to, em...I need to ask you something.” I motioned for him to come closer with my finger. His brow furrowed in confusion, but he walked forward anyway. I slipped my hand into my pocket, feeling for rounded edge of the gun Wal had made me carry. It wrapped my hand round it, feeling the cold metal send shivers through my body. I glanced up and smiled at Tom. He was standing directly in front of me, his chest strangely 
close to my own.

“What was it you wanted to ask me?”


I pulled the gun out of its holster and fired. A beam of green light shot out, zipping through the air where Tom was standing. His mouth widened in shock, and his eyes doubled in size. He knew he was about to die. The shot flew towards him and there was a fizz, a crack, as it hit his body. Tom jerked backwards in spasm. His lungs forced the air out in a gasp, and he fell to floor, silent.

I looked at him for a moment, and for the first time, I felt tears prick my eyes. No one was meant to die in this mission. Not even men like him. He was just doing his job. A shiver ran up my spine, and I placed the gun back in its holster. Tom’s eyes were wide and bulging, his mouth still open in shock. You couldn’t see it, but his insides had been melted by the beam of plutonic energy - something these people hadn’t discovered yet. When they found him, when they did their autopsy, all they would find would be a sticky mess. I bent down and closed his open eyes. It was a horrible way to die, and he didn’t deserve it. But that was in the past now. I couldn’t reverse it. Sighing, I swivelled round on my heels. I needed to carry on with the mission.

I looked around the room once more, my eyes catching on specific details. The bubbling beaker of red solid, the hiss of a gas main, a tiny alcove at the side of the room, the petri dish of cells multiplying in the corner...I paused, my eyes whipping back to the alcove. I hadn’t noticed it at first - it was covered with a white partition, making it blend almost seamlessly into the wall. There was horrible smell coming out from under it, a mixture of sick, vanilla and gobi flowers. My hand moved automatically to my gun. That was where our guy was. It had to be.

I walked towards it, my hand tight on the butt of my gun. The closer I got, the stronger the smell was. I wanted to gag. Instead, I moved my other hand out, curling it round the edge of the partition. I yanked it away and a smile spread across my face, like oil on water.

It was the hostage, our guy. He was locked in a cage, crouched at the back of it. Blue sweat beaded on his forehead and his knees were pressed towards his bare chest. His huge eyes were shut and he looked so...small. I placed my hands on the cage bars and gave them a little shake.


The hostage’s eyes snapped open and he leapt to his feet. He was tall and skinny, his legs like matchsticks. He straightened his back and his height grew again to at least seven feet, his bald head brushing the top of the cage. He stared down at me, at my weak, fat frame. His arms were crisscrossed with scars and cuts, bright red against his pale green skin. He blinked at me, his black eyes alive with fear.

“No. Sorry. Me have fear. Please.”

He quivered and edged backward. I nodded and held up my hand. “Sei amaga Trilliana. Sei dergaw tyop ywo. Sei ap redanena. Quer?”

The hostage’s eyes widened, their black expanse becoming a black hole. He took a minute step forward, and pressed his fingers on the bars. They were long and spindly with rounded tips. “Trilliana?”

I nodded. “Sei amsert shew ywo.” The man nodded and I took a small step back from the cage. He wanted me to show myself. My real self, not the thing was pretending to be. I took my hand off my gun and shrugged off my lab coat. Already I could feel my bones straining to escape from these clothes. I reached behind my back and felt underneath my top. There. My fingers fumbled with the switch embedded into my skin, teasing it upwards. Click. The switch fell into place, and felt my clothes fall away into nothing, my human skin disappear. I rolled my shoulders and stood up, face to face with the hostage.

The hostage simply looked at me and nodded. “Ywo amaga redanena.” His fingers curled round the bars and he smiled. “Chriss na.” Thank you, in English.

I smiled back and picked my gun up from the floor. I felt so tall, so normal now. I was wearing a pair of camo coloured trousers and sandals, nothing else. Nothing to constrict my movement, like those silly human clothes. 

I lifted the gun to my face and twisted the dial on it. “Ghanr sertio.” The hostage nodded and stepped back to the far side of the cage. His eyes were alive with hope and happiness - they twinkled with sparks of white and gold.

I aimed the gun at the lock on the cage and fired. It was only a small blast this time, one that only exerted enough energy to melt metal. The lock fizzed and fell to the floor, a sticky molten mess. I stepped forward and open the cage door with a flourish. “Terii.” The guy nodded and clambered out. He stumbled and rocked on his feet, his twig-like fingers grasping my shoulder for support. I wrapped a hand around his waist and yanked him towards me. I caught his legs and pulled him into a baby lift, his arms winding round my neck.

 “Chriss na. Chriss na.”

“Wwque. Walec amaga tgit, quer?”

I glanced up at the ceiling. Walec should have been here a minute ago. It wasn’t like him to be late. I furrowed my brow and looked up again. Where was he?

There was a crack and Wal suddenly appeared next to me. He was in his normal form as well, none of that human disguise business. He was slightly bulkier than me, but you could still see his ribs. He too was only wearing trousers, but on his wrist was a shining blue watch that twinkled in the light. I knew what it was. A transporter. It broke down anything that touched it into matter, and then moved them elsewhere. It worked over short distances, which was good, as base was only 3 kiloweras away.

Wal looked at me, and then the hostage, and smiled. “Trill, recga ana. Well done.” He grasped my wrist and pressed a button on the watch.  There was a beep, and everything flashed white.


I was lying earlier. The start had gone to plan - it was the middle that went wonky. Tom had to get involved, he had to tag along and get himself killed. Wal was disappointed that I didn’t try something else, but he agreed that he couldn’t be left alive. If he had so much suspected that we were aliens, so help me, we would be dead. We weren’t aliens anyway...the humans are the aliens. We are the redanena. We are special. We are different. And we are brave.

Sunday, 22 January 2012

Redanena Part 1

Hey! How is everyone? I had my party last night! It was great - my friends came round and we had a Chinese. And then we laughed, and laughed and laughed and laughed.....my friends are awesome ;)
So, I have another story for you! Again, it's mega long (I can't seem to write short stories now :/) so I've split in two. Next time though, I promise to have a story that's not over 2000 words!


It didn’t start the way it was meant to. Tom shouldn’t have got involved. There weren’t meant to be any casualties. But then, nothing turns out the way it’s meant to on this planet. I’ve learned that much.


I sat in the car, my hands crossed over my lap. A flowing lab coat was draped around my shoulders and a pair of tight black shoes squeezed my feet into unnatural shapes. My boss sat in front of me. “Look, this is an easy mission. Just get in and get out, with our guy of course. You’ve got your card to get into the lab, and we’ve already disabled the security systems to give you clean entry. Just get him out of there. I hate to think what they’ve being doing to him...experiments, most likely.” The car jolted to one side and I pressed my hand onto the fabric to steady myself. The boss leaned forward, a smile passing over his lips. “Relax, Trill. I’ve studied these...creatures long and hard. They aren’t the smartest in the universe and they have no idea we’re after them. It shouldn’t take too long, and, I know you will, but be careful, ok? These people aren’t smart but they’re prone to violent outbursts.”

I smiled, a laugh bubbling on my lips. “I’ll be fine. This will be a cinch after the war. I’ll go in, get the hostage and get out. No casualties, if I can help it.”  I glanced at the screen that separated us from the driver. I could see a sea of road in front of us, spilling out like a wave. “How long until we get to the research facility?”

“Not long now. Just enjoy the ride, Trill. This will be your last time riding in one of these babies. Relax.”

I sighed and loosened my muscles a bit. It felt odd in these strange clothes, much different from normal, but I guessed I could get used to it. I shifted my position and scratched an itch on my arm. “Thanks, Wal. For everything.”

Wal grinned and leaned back into his seat. “No problem. I do it all for you, you know.”

I laughed. “Sure you do. Now, go over the plan one last time...”

Wal opened his mouth to say something, when the car suddenly veered off to the side and ground to an unsteady halt. “That’s you,” the driver said, his voice gruff. He sounded like he had been chewing sandpaper. 

Wal turned round and nodded. “Thank you. How much is that?”

“Eight twenty-five, please.”

Wal pulled his wallet out and picked out a twenty. “There you are. Keep the change.”

The driver’s mouth opened and then shut again. He swivelled around in his seat, and stayed silent. Wall glanced at him for a moment and then shrugged. “Did I give him too much do you think?” he whispered, his voice low and soft.

“No, you were fine. I’ll see you Wal.”

Wal smiled and patted my shoulder. “Just be careful Trill. I’ll be watching from the base, alright. I’ll pick you up once you have him.”

I smiled and opened the car door. “I’ll be alright, Wal. I always am.” I squeezed out the gap onto the pavement, and before I could blink, the taxi had disappeared round the corner.

I watched the empty road for a moment before turning to face the lab. It was white and sloped at one side, pointing up at the baby blue sky. Windows dotted the wall at seemingly irregular intervals and there was a strong smell of disinfectant. A wave of nausea rolled over me, like it always did before a mission. I pushed it to one side. I would deal with it later, after this had been dealt with. I rolled my shoulders and took a small step forward. Nothing happened. I wasn’t expecting anything to, but I still felt I had to check if they knew me. If they knew who I was, and then stepped forward, a myriad of soldiers and guns would be pushed into my line of sight, all shouting in low voices, “FREEZE!”

But nothing did happen, so that was ok. I stepped forward again, and again, slowly dissolving into a long, confident stride. I approached the steel front doors. There was a huge plaque above them that read GRISHEMHEIM RESEARCH LAB. RESTRICTED ENTRY. I read it, my eyes struggling over the gigantic letters, and then my hand swung out and pushed the door open.

I stepped inside the clean, modern building, my hands plastered at my sides. People scurried this way and that, like ants on an anthill. They were all dressed in identical coats, copies of the one that I wore. The reception was bustling on my right; on my left was a corridor. And in the middle was a great white tiled expanse, men and women skimming its surface, their feet flying so fast they barely touched the ground. Their eyes were narrowed with focus and purpose. I could feel beads of sweat glistening on my forehead. I wiped it, taking the blue liquid off my head, and onto my pristine sleeve. I had to concentrate. I was a spy, not a toddler. I had to focus. I straightened my back, wincing as my bones squelched together, and puffed up my chest.

I started walking forward, my eyes pinned in front of me. My body was angled to the left - the corridor was where I needed to go, where the lab they were holding our man in would most likely be. I turned into towards it, and smiled at a man coming towards me. He smiled back, and gave me a thumbs up, like I was the most natural thing in the world. Well, I guess that’s what I looked like at the time. I was wearing a wig, and a nametag on my lab coat said Beth Anderson. She had worked here until a month ago, before she had... mysteriously disappeared.

I looked around me. The corridor was curved in an arch above my head, like a tunnel. Doors lined the sides at sporadic intervals. I could hear bangs and fizzes coming from inside the rooms, and bitter smells coated the doors like slime. I ducked my head and kept walking. I knew the lab the hostage was in - No 394 - but whether I would be able to find it was another matter. The place was huge, a labyrinth of halls and giant chemistry sets. Each corridor led off to another three, and another three after that. Wal had told me why. Only those with knowledge of the building could find their way about, and newbies were given a map. Robbers had no chance of escaping. However, this didn’t cause much of a problem for me. Wal was picking me up once I had finished with my rescue. I wouldn’t have to escape.

I turned a corner, and felt the soft flesh of a man’s chest bump into my arm. I glanced up and smiled sheepishly, copying the expression I’d seen other people do.


The man I had bumped into smiled, showing a row of gleaming white teeth. He had curly red hair and the ghost of a beard on his chin. His face was thin and long. I glanced at these for a second but it was eyes that really held me. They were a deep blue colour that shimmered in the glaring fluorescent lights above. I felt my heart contract, and for a moment my mind was filled with images of us dancing. I pushed them out of my head. I was here a mission, not a dating spree.

“Sorry,” I repeated.

The man shook his head. “It’s fine,” he glanced at my name tag, “Beth.” He smiled, and I felt my heart contract again. “Are you looking for something?”

“Eh...n-no, yes.”I took a deep breath. “I’m looking for lab 394. I have entry.” I pulled a key card from my pocket and he nodded.

“I’ll show you. It’s just round the corner. Follow me. Oh, and I’m called Tom. Tom Marley.” The man smiled again, and made off down corridor, his long legs brushing the tiled floor. I hurried after him.

“You don’t have to show me. I can find it myself.”

Tom glanced at me. “I’d rather show you to be honest. I have some work to do there myself. This way.” Tom turned into a narrow corridor. It was tiny, barely wide enough to fit one person, and there were no doors lining the white-washed walls. Instead, there were signs, each warning that it was restricted entry and trespassers would be arrested.

I felt a bubble rise in my throat. This was the right place, but I was here with someone else! That wasn’t part of the plan! Wal was going to kill me. I closed my eyes for a moment. I could fix this. I could...get rid of the guy in the lab. Yeah. Kill him. That was the easiest way to do it. And if he resisted...well, I had my gun...

Monday, 16 January 2012

Human Hunt - Part 2

Hi! How is everyone? I don't really have much to say this week other than that it's my birthday on Wednesday! I'm turning 14 (finally catching up with all my friends) and I'm having a mini party on Saturday :)
Anyway, here's Human Hunt Part 2. if you haven't read Part 1 click here. Enjoy!

Human Hunt Part 2

The hall was long and slender, an arching staircase breaking off at the wall to his right. The doors to the rest of the house creaked open in the sudden breeze and everything was dark and silent. Simon placed a tentative foot forward. The floorboards creaked and Simon smiled. Perfect. They needed to scare the humans - a dark, ominous, creaking house was more than able. They might as well not be here.

Simon motioned for the rest of the zombies to join him. The group hurried forward, their faces twisted with adrenaline. Simon smiled at them and placed a finger on his lips. He took a step forward and then another and then another....

He weaved his through the house, looking in the rooms for a door, any door that was small enough and secret enough for the humans to mistake for safety. He and his gang passed through the kitchen, the living room, the study. All were empty, but Simon expected that. He knew where the smallest door would be. The bedroom, a place for storage maybe, hidden behind a long forgotten wardrobe. It would be there. These houses always had one, or two cubbyholes.

Simon walked up the stairs, stepping in the middle of the steps for maximum creak. Saliva was building in his mouth with the thought of humans, with their milky flesh and straw like hair. Simon looked up and saw a door in front of him. It was in pristine condition bar a single vertical scratch on it. Simon ambled forward and leaned in for a closer look. It was made in the last half hour, and there was a minuscule white shard in the groove. A fingernail.

Simon grinned and nodded at the two men behind him. Their eyes lit up and they hurried forward. One of the men opened the door and Simon marched forward. The room was a lurid pink colour, with white frills round the edges and on the drawn curtains. Simon’s eyes swept the room, searching for a wardrobe, a chair, something the humans could and would use to cover their den. Instead, his eyes were drawn to a sparkling object on the floor.

Simon walked towards it, his brow furrowed. It was a necklace, a familiar one...Simon bent down and picked the chain up in his hand. It was thin and choker-like, with only a single charm - an arrow shot through a heart. Simon turned it over and his frown deepened. There was a tiny A on the back. He recognized it. He had seen it before, he just couldn’t remember where. Was it another zombies? A little girl’s he had once noticed? No, it couldn’t be something like that. Something in his head was screaming that it was significant. The answer suddenly popped into his mind. It was Andrea’s, his daughter’s. Simon felt his heart sink slightly in his chest. She must have left here before she died. Or maybe another human had picked it up. Simon tucked it inside his pocket, a sigh pressed on his lips.

He turned and looked around the room. There was a huge, oak wardrobe at the far side, and the other men were huddled around it. Their eyes were alight with fire and hunger and there was saliva dribbling out their mouths. “Should we push it?”

Simon stepped forward and glanced though the tiny gap between the wall and the wooden slab. There was a minute door handle. Lines crossed over the dust that settled there - places where someone had grabbed it. 

Simon leaned back and smiled. “Yes.”

They slid their fingers down the back of the wardrobe. They yanked backwards and it moved slightly, creaking across the floor. “Again!” The men pulled a second time and it moved further, just enough for a man to squeeze in. Perfect.

Simon looked at the door and then turned back to the men. He raised his eyebrows. “Em...Martin? Would you do the honours?” Martin’s face lit up with joy, and a grin spread across his face, showing a row of ugly, grey teeth.

“Can I?”

“Yup. Now, go!”

Martin smiled and shimmied into the gap. He barely fit and Simon could see the muscles in his stomach working ferociously to keep him upright. He folded his hand around the door handle and took a deep breath.

“Three, two, o-”

The door burst open, sending Martin backwards into the wardrobe. He slumped onto his side and a foot slammed into his chest. Simon heard something snap. He peeled his eyes from Martin’s limp frame and looked up at the attacker. It was a girl, about 17. Her brown hair was short and swept along her jaw in ragged spikes. Her eyes were a dark brown, fringed with specks of green. There was a bow slung across her back and an arrow in her hand. She glanced up and her face went pale.

The girl opened her mouth to say something, but her words were drowned by the sound of the other man shouting. He howled in rage and hurled himself at her. The girl quickly peeled her eyes off of Simon’s, and in one fluid movement, she loaded the arrow into the wooden curve of the bow and fired. The arrow sped through the air and landed in the zombie’s chest.  Blue liquid flooded the wound and the man collapsed, jerking and writhing in pain. The girl loaded another arrow and pointed it at Simon.

“Down. On the floor.”

Simon crouched on the pink carpet. He recognized that face. He knew he did. The girl bent over him, the arrow pointed at his chest. Simon saw a thin line around her neck, where something had been pressing. The necklace. It was hers. Which meant...


The girl’s eyes lit up, and she lowered her bow. “I knew it was you. I’d recognize that silly tie anywhere.” Her face suddenly darkened and she raised her bow again. “You were going to kill me.”

Simon gulped. “I-I wasn’t, sweetie.”

“Then who were you going to kill?”

“Other humans...no, not you.”

“Just...other humans?” Simon saw her eyes catch on the silver chain of the necklace that was poking out of his pocket. She motioned to it with her bow. “What’s that?”

“I-it’s your necklace. I found it on the floor. Look, darling, why don’t you just lower the bow...”

Andrea slammed her foot down. “No, I’m keeping it up. And don’t call me darling. You hated me! Now that it’s me that has the weapon...well, now we change our tune.”

She leant forward and pulled the necklace out of Simon’s pocket. She was so close. Simon could smell the lingering scent of the perfume she always used to wear. Whether that was just his imagination, he couldn’t tell. Andrea placed the necklace on the floor and furrowed her brow.

“Andy, please...”

“And my name is Andrea. You know I hate Andy. Anyway, let’s get down to business. Your friends, any more of them?”

Simon nodded. “Two outside, and maybe fifty in the other houses.” He couldn’t help but smile. “I organised a human hunt.”

“A human hunt? You disgust me. And you organised it? You couldn’t organise anything!”

“I can now, sweetie. I’m mayor.” His chest puffed up with pride, hurting his stomach.

“Mayor? Are you serious?” Andrea laughed but it was hard and fake. “Mayor of the monsters. It suits you, Dad. What with what happened at home...”

Simon felt anger rise in his chest. “I didn’t leave you! Your mum left me!”

“Sure. I heard all the arguments, Dad. I heard mum’s screams when you hit her. You might as well of left. You drove her out, you sick scumbag.”

Andrea’s foot connected with the side of Simon’s head and he winced. “Andrea, don’t do this. I have forces, and they will kill you.”

Andrea stepped forward and pointed her arrow at his chest. “They won’t know I’m here if you don’t tell them.”

Sweat beaded on Simon’s forehead. “Andrea, don’t...please...”

“Sorry, Dad. But I’m not being beaten down by you again, ok? You or your repulsive friends. I’ll see you on the other side.”

Her hand pulled back and the fingers flexed. The bow was tight now, so tight...

“Andy...Please don’t kill your dad...”

“I’m sorry.”

There was a ping and Simon felt the arrow shot into his chest. He fell onto the floor, and just before his eyes closed for the last time, he saw the necklace and its single charm - an arrow, through a heart.

Thursday, 12 January 2012

Human Hunt - Part 1

Hi! Two posts in one week...well, you are lucky! I wrote this story earlier this week and I thought you deserved to see it. it was quite long, so I've decided to split it into two parts. It is a zombie story, and yes, I'm obsessed with writing them, but they're really fun! I hope you enjoy!
Also, I wanted to answer a question that was posted on my last book review - I will let you read Wolfbane when it is finished, edited and hopefully published. No more, no less. Though I may write a story using one or more of the characters...if I'm in a good mood :P
Anyway, here's Human Hunt! Enjoy!

Human Hunt

Simon Chaudler straightened his tie in the mirror. He had always hated public speaking, even if he was the mayor of this godforsaken town. He wasn’t good at stringing words together in the right order, holding back for emphasis, that sort of thing. It just didn’t work for him. Even now, after the virus had come, he couldn’t do it. But then again, that was expected. The virus didn’t change you, per say...just your appearance, and maybe the way you acted sometimes.

Simon glanced up at himself in the mirror. He thought he looked quite dashing in his pinstripe suit, with a spotted yellow tie and shining Italian shoes. He clicked his heels together and smiled. His teeth were yellow and rotting, his lips cracked and a pallid green colour. One of his eyebrows was missing, the other was matted with dried pus. There was a welt on his cheek, red and sore and oozing yellow gunge. The edge of a picture stuck out from the top of his suit pocket, wrinkled and crumpled. It was a picture of his daughter wearing her favourite necklace and lying in a paddling pool. Simon winked at himself, staring at the tiny pinprick of his pupil. Yes, he did look quite dashing. For a zombie.

Simon turned around and shook out his shoulders. He was standing behind a faded red curtain, beyond which was a crowd of his fellow men and women, green and covered  in throbbing pustules. He was their mayor. He was here to inspire them, to thrust an idea into their hearts. They had been uninventive and dull ever since the virus had hit - they all needed a little boost to their system. Simon had just the idea. He had been thinking about it yesterday. A good ol’ human hunt, that’s what this town needed. The virus had struck about eight months ago, so there was bound to be some survivors lurking in a basement.

Simon straightened up and took a deep breath. Here goes. He pushed the curtain open and waved at the crowd. The sun was low in the sky, casting a waxy orange glaze over the town plaza. A sea of bald heads bobbed at the sight of him; shouts and cheers echoed through the air, sounding like nails on a chalkboard. Simon looked at the crowd, searching for his daughter’s white face. She wasn’t there of course. Simon pulled his face into a grin and walked towards the podium at the front of the stage. He held up his hand, and the crowd fell silent.

“Ladies and gentlemen, zombies and well, zombies, I have called you here today to ask you something. When was the last time you felt alive?”

The crowd was silent until a single teenage boy shouted “Eight months ago! When I was having breakfast!” 

There was a wave of laughter and Simon chuckled. “Yes, Tony, I know that much. But when was the last time you had any energy? Any reason to live? It was a while ago, wasn’t it?” Simon paused and waited for that to sink in. “Well, ladies and gentlemen, I have a solution! There is an event happening in an hour’s time, one that will have to full of adrenaline and excitement! 
One of which you are all invited to!”

The crowd cheered and Simon ran his hand over his bare scalp. “The event? A human hunt!”

The crowd went wild. There were cheers, screams, whoops of joy - Simon even saw one woman (or, at least, what he thought was a woman) through her toddler into the air with glee.

Simon leaned his hands on the wooden podium. “Are you coming?!”


“Are we going to scare the daylights out of the humans?”


“Are you ready to rock?!”


The crowd went wild again and started separating in all directions, hurrying home to get their weapons. Simon smiled and stepped behind the curtain again. Nothing like a human hunt to get people’s spirits up. Thinking about it, he had been feeling quite down himself. Thinking of Andrea too much, he supposed. He went over to the mirror and winked again. He had done well. He had done very well indeed. He smoothed out his suit and strode out of the room. It was time to get his zombie on.


An hour later, and a crowd swelled into the town streets. Pale green faces were grinning with excitement, and rotting hands clasped pitchfork and torches. The night was as black as coal. Simon stood at the head of the crowd. He clapped his hands and everyone went silent.

“Right zombies, I want us to split up. This half go to the west side of town and look through the basements, garages, supermarkets, yada yada yada. This half come with me, and we’ll do the east side. Are we clear?”


Simon smiled. “Let’s go kick some butt!”

There was a cheer and the sides split up. Simon watched the other group vanish into the night before turning to face the huddle in front of him. “Follow me.”

He marched forward, listening to the sound of muffled footsteps on the ground. He wondered if the humans knew he was coming for them. Probably not. They weren’t the smartest of creatures. Simon sighed. He remembered when he was a human. It was a frighteningly awful existence - he had been an accountant, whittling away each day typing numbers on a screen. His family didn’t care about him. His wife had left him, and he only got the weekends with Andrea. They had both died when the virus hit anyway. Now, however, he was great. He had power and what was more, he was enjoying life.

Simon glanced up. They were in Fullerton Street, a tiny road lined with Tudor houses. He stopped and turned around. He could see everyone’s faces clearly thanks to the flaming sticks people carried. “Right. Tony, you take your group into that house there.” He pointed at the house nearest to him. Tony grinned and motioned for his teenage friends to join him. Simon had a fleeting glimpse of Andrea jumping around with them, her silver necklace bouncing of her chest like she had done before the virus. “But be careful, and remember - humans are for everyone. Knock em’ out and we can infect them together, ok?” Tony nodded and he and his friends hurried off into the night, howling and slobbering like a pack of hungry wolves.

“Right, Andy you take that group and...”

Slowly, Simon got everyone to disperse into different houses, until there was only him and two of his friends left. He looked at them and smiled. Between them they had a pitchfork, two torches and a coil of rope. 

“Right, we’ll go into that house.” He gestured to Number 42, which was shielded from the torches flame by a wall of hedges. He looked at the bushes for a moment before narrowing his eyebrows.  “Burn it.”

Two men grinned and raced forward, their welts and sores leaking pus over the road. They were both carrying torches, huge spears of fire that towered into the sky. They jabbed the thicket. It hadn’t rained in a few days and the leaves and branches were as dry as paper. They caught in an instant and a few minutes later all that was left was a few smouldering embers.

Simon stepped over the remains and leapt onto the path. The front door was a rich red colour, but the paint was peeling away from the edges, exposing the dry brown wood underneath. Simon regarded it for a moment. “Ok, you two,” he pointed at the men with the torches, “you two go round the back and cut off their exit. The rest of us will go through the front. Deal?”


“Well, go then!” The two men grinned and ran round the back, their long legs carrying them over the gate with ease.  They were soon out of sight, swallowed by the darkness.

Simon walked over the door and tested the handle. It was locked, of course, but there was no harm in checking. He raised his foot and aimed a swift kick at the door. There was a crack and the wood splintered. Simon leaned forward and gave the door a little push. It swung open and Simon stepped inside. 

Monday, 9 January 2012

City of the Falling Sky - Book Review!

Hiya! I've decided to do a book review today, for the simple reason that I have no stories to give you! But don't worry I am currently in the throes of writing one...or two...or four...
Anyway, I have reached 2000 views! Thank you! My list of followers has been slowly growing over the past few weeks, so hello to any new readers out there!

When Seckry Sevenstars is forced out of his village by the greedy Endrin Corporation and relocated to the daunting metropolis of Skyfall City, he harbours resentment for the company and vows to get them back one day for taking away his home, his school and his friends.

Fortunately, the marvels of the city do a good job in distracting Seckry from his anger and homesickness, and it isn’t long before he’s competing at Friction (the city’s most popular multiplayer video game), slurping awe-inspiring multicoloured milkshakes, and getting butterflies on his first date.

Then, when a mysterious email asks Seckry to break into the headquarters of the Endrin Corporation and steal a container full of worms for a hefty sum of money, his anger resurfaces, and he can’t resist the revenge he promised himself.

Alone at night, Seckry creeps through the sewers whilst wondering what experiments Endrin might be doing on the worms, and emerges into the silent complex. But the worms aren’t the only thing that he finds. Staring at him through the darkness, with wide, innocent eyes, is something that makes Seckry’s heart almost stop.

A girl.

She’s shaking, petrified, and has no recollection of who she is or what she’s doing there.

Floodlights bleach the area and Seckry has no choice but to grab a hold of the girl and escape with her.

Suddenly the question of what Endrin were doing with a few worms becomes the last thing on Seckry’s mind. What were Endrin doing with a human?

Genre - Young Adult Sci/fi
Author - Joseph Evans
Rating - 4/5

For those of you who don't know, I am the proud owner of a Kindle. This was the first book that I read on it, and it was an enthralling read. The plot is fast and engaging, the characters interesting and deep, and the description was fantastic. There were many plot threads that somehow managed to weave themselves into an ending that left you breathless. I barely left my Kindle to eat, sleep, drink...I just had to keep reading! I'm eagerly awaiting the next in the series. 

The only drawback I could see is that for the advanced reader it is slightly too young  to be fully enjoyable. The other problem is that you end up craving a sequel and wanting to play Friction! I joke, but this is an amazing book. I would recommend it for Hunger Games fans and harry Potter fans alike. I don't think it is available in book form yet, but you an download the software to read it on your computer. This is a must read. 
Amazon - Free!!

Tuesday, 3 January 2012

The Feral Boy 3

Hiya! I hope everyone had a great Christmas and New Year, and that you all got nice pressies and all that :) I had a fantastic Christmas. I got two pairs of converse, a kindle, some books and loads of chocolate, most of which has already been devoured. :P
Anyway, on Christmas Eve, I did it - I've written over 50,000 words of Wolfbane! I can't believe it! I never thought I would get this far, but now finishing it seems in reach. Thanks for your support as well but remember I could always do with some more (hint hint)
In other news, I submitted a story called Death's Card to a magazine in the States. I've not posted it here (yet) but you can read it by clicking this link - http://www.writeandshare.co.uk/story/deaths-card/  if this story gets publish by the magazine I get about $100! WooHoo!
So, enough chit-chat, time for your belated present. Here is The Feral Boy 3. It isn't as action filled as the last two, but I hope you enjoy it. And don't worry - Number 4 is coming up! I also just revamped my Me! page - take a look!

The Feral Boy 3

Amelia rolled over in her bed and groaned. Her head was pounding and her legs ached. She must have had too much chocolate last night. She groaned again, and wearily sat up, her back against the wall. There was clang. Mum must have dropped the kettle again. Smiling, she raised her arms above her head.  “Jessica? Are you there?”

There was a laugh and a deep voice said, “Dunno who you’re talking about, but she ain’t here, missus. Ain’t no one here bar you, me and your little boyfriend.”

Amelia’s eyes snapped open and she jerked backwards. Her eyes widened and she let out a tiny squeak of fear. She was in a cell. Grey bricks lined the walls, tally’s and symbols etched into the concrete, letters and dates and names. The smell of urine seemed to clog the room and she could see flies hovering over a hole dug into the stone floor. There was a thick brown stain next to it. Amelia suppressed the urge to gag and instead looked down at her feet.

She was sitting on a bench, made of rotting, maggoty wood and her feet were dirty with grime. She wasn’t 
wearing any shoes. She lifted her foot off the ground and then stopped. There was a bracelet of silver wrapped around her left ankle, attached to thin, winding chain. Amelia traced its path up the bench and saw that it, in turn, was linked to an iron hook on the wall. Amelia stared at it, transfixed. There was something about it, something primitive. She had never seen anything like it before. She thought prisoners were locked up with the new lasered cuffs, not these rusty chains.

Amelia reached out to touch it, when a loud crack shot the air. Amelia whipped round and saw a tall man standing outside the bars. He had long, shaggy brown hair, covered with a black top hat. A patchwork cloak was draped around his shoulders, hiding a mismatched suit. His hands were covered with navy, fingerless gloves and a bullwhip trailed from his fingers. Amelia winced at the sight of it. The man smiled, showing a row of broken, yellow gravestones.

“Wouldn’t do tat if I was you, missus. Electrified it is.” He spoke with a Cockney accent, something Amelia rarely heard in her parent’s circles. The man cracked his whip again, the tip of it snaking its way through the bars and brushing the chain. There was sizzle and a spark shot up, landing on Amelia’s cheek. She clasped a hand to it, and the man laughed.

Amelia frowned. “How dare you! My father is the governor, you know! He could put you out of a job! You, you, you imbecile!”

The man stopped laughing. He pressed his face up against the bars and snarled. “Look ‘ere, missus. I’m the guard, and by ‘eck am I a lowlife scum. But at least I respect the law. You’re just a feral. A stinking primate. You go around sayin’ your guvner’s daughter? There’s gonna be trouble.” He cracked his whip and took a step back. “Now, you shut up, or you’ll boyfriend’ll get it.” He pointed at the corner and sneered.

Amelia looked round and gasped. There was a figure in the corner, his head resting on the wall. His body was bruised and the tip of a dart stood out of his neck. His chest fell and rose slowly, jumping around at sporadic intervals. Amelia shuffled forwards on the bench. “J-Javen?”

The guard laughed and cracked his whip again. “Aww, is the little girlie gettin’ all sentimental? Does she want her wittle boyfriend to get up?” The man laughed harder. “He got up about an hour before you did, missus, and when he saw you he got all angry. Started shoutin’. We ‘ad to sedate ‘im again.” The man grinned and his whip shot through the bars, catching Amelia’s foot. She jerked backwards and whimpered. “Just you wait, little girlie. Couple of hours and you’ll be shipped to the Unregistered compound. Do you know what they do there? Eh?”

Amelia shook her head.

“They cage you up, like animals! And you know what? Occasionally they take you out to show nursery kids how disgusting you are!” He laughed and Amelia felt a tear trickle down her cheek. Javen...

There was a bang further down the corridor and the man turned round, the tail of his whip poking through the bars. “’ello? Hollands, is that you?”

“No, it is not!” Amelia lifted her head. She could recognize that voice anywhere.


The guard turned round, his face pale and gaunt. His dull blue eyes seemed to sink in his skull.

“D-dad?” he stuttered. Evidently, he recognized the voice too. Well, who wouldn’t? He was the voice of the country, the voice of Skyy. The voice of the Governor. Amelia tilted her head. She could smell his cologne from here, that musty, almost sweet smell that followed him wherever he went. “Amelia!”

There was the sound of running footsteps and a man appeared in front of the cell, almost banging into the guard. He was wearing a black three-piece suit, and draped around his shoulders was a fur jacket. Wolf, it looked like, with its white hairs dappled with specks of gray and smudges of brown. He was pale, and his thin lips were set in a pout. He looked at the cell, his brown eyes studying every corner of it. They rested on Javen for a moment, before quickly snapping to Amelia. She could see him take in her bare feet, her fetters, her dirty clothes. His face darkened and he turned to the guard, who was quivering in the corner.

“Let my daughter go,” he hissed, his teeth clenched.

The guard stared at him for a moment, wide-eyed and petrified. “L-let ‘er go?”

Amelia’s dad stepped forward and pressed his hand against the man’s chest. “Let her go!”

“Ok! I-I just need some identification...”

“YOU NEED IDENTIFICATION! You know fine plain well who I am, Mr Clark. And yes I know who you are. Now, let my daughter go, or so help me, I will get you locked up in the feral compound yourself!”

The guard nodded vigorously and reached towards his belt. There was the jangle of keys and he fumbled with them, moving through each piece of shaped metal slowly. Shaking, he picked one out and stuck it into the steel lock on the bars. He turned it and with a click, the door swung open.

Amelia leaned forward as her dad walked into the room. His teeth were still clenched and he looked as angry as ever, but none of that mattered. Her dad had come for her. She folded her arms round his waist and breathed in the unmistakable aroma that surrounded him. “Dad,” she whispered.

There was a breath of silence and then she heard it, the one and only time her dad had ever broken his demeanour to show some form of love - “Amelia.”

He turned around and looked at the guard. “Get this off her,” he said, pointing at the chain. The guard nodded again and shuffled forward, his hand curled round the butt of the whip. Amelia’s dad looked at it and a snarl escaped his throat. “Put that down.”

The guard paused and followed the governors gaze. “Oh, this? Sorry, Sir. No can do. In case that one wakes up.” He pointed at Javen’s sleeping figure and Amelia’s dad nodded.

“Ok. But if you used that on my daughter, there will be serious repercussions.”
The guard glanced at Amelia’s foot, where a single red line marked the soft white flesh. He gulped and then hurried over with the key to the chains. He bent down and unlocked her foot before standing up, his back hunched.

“What about the other one?”

Amelia looked up at her Dad and then back to Javen. His breathing was beginning to heighten, become regular again. He would soon wake up. His brown hair fell over his eyes and his arms were wrapped around his chest. He looked so...weak. Vulnerable. She couldn’t leave him.

“Dad, that feral in the corner, he’s called Jave-”

Her dad cut her off with a disapproving glare. “Leave him. He’s a feral; my daughters not. That’s all that matters here. Now, open this door and let’s be on our way, Amelia.” He draped his arm over Amelia’s shoulder and pushed her forward. “We need a little talk.”

He pushed Amelia forward again, making her stumble out the cell. She steadied herself and then twisted her head for one last glimpse of Javen. He looked exactly the same as he did a few minutes ago. Just as battered, just as bruised, just as pathetically helpless. Amelia felt a lonesome tear trickle down her cheek. “Bye, Javen,” she whispered, and, as her dad pushed her forward once more, she swore she saw one eye open and close in a wink.
Amelia lay on her real bed, staring up at the ceiling. It was just after midnight and she could hear the aves1 screeching outside her window. Her room was pitch black, obscuring the sickening pink walls and the fairytale princesses that laughed and waved their pathetic wands. Amelia sighed and rolled onto her side. Her dad had just given her a three hour lecture about ferals. He used terms like “fraternising with the enemy” and reprimanding the justice of Skyy” and a load of other useless words that basically meant - stay away from them or you’re grounded until you die. Most of the time during that talk she wasn’t even listening. Her mind was focused firmly on Javen, and how he would be in the Unregistered Compound. Javen, and how he would be put in a cage. Javen, and how everything about his life would fall around him, a useless pile of rubble.

“Amelia, stop being so depressing.”

Amelia sat bolt upright and looked around her room. There as no one there. A weary smile passed over her face. “Jessica, come out please. I’m not in the mood for hide-and-seek.”

There was a snort. “Evidently.” Jessica stepped out the darkness, holing a small torch. She flicked it on and a beam of light suddenly shot out, right into Amelia’s eyes.


“Oh yeah. Sorry.” She pointed the torch beam to the side and then jumped on Amelia’s bed. She was wearing a pair of thick, woolly pyjamas with tiny penguins on them. “You do know there’s only one thing you can do.”

Amelia looked at her and sighed. “There’s nothing I can do, Jess. I’m grounded for at least a month, and Javen is long gone. It’s no use.”

“That’s rubbish. You have to go break him out!”

Amelia looked at Jessica as though she was mad. “Br-break him out! Are you insane?!”

Jessica giggled and spun the torch in her hand. “Yes, but please listen to me. The compound isn’t that far from here, and your dad wouldn’t even notice! Come on, Amelia - where’s your sense of fun!”

Amelia snorted. “I think I left it back at the train station. It’s pointless. I’d be caught in an instant.”

Jessica stood up off the bed, a twinkle in her eye. “You’d see Javen again...”

Amelia’s heart leapt in her chest. Javen, with his long brown hair and blue eyes...

I’ll do it!” Amelia clapped a hand over her mouth but it was too late. Jessica was already prancing round the room, singing and cheering. Her clothes had turned black and there was a pair of night vision goggles on her head.

“Woo! Come on, get changed! I’ll get a map!”

Jessica vanished and Amelia pulled herself off her bed. Why did she open her mouth?  It always got her into trouble. Sighing, she walked over to her giant wardrobe and selected a pair of black skinny’s and a navy jumper. It wasn’t black but it would do. She got changed and then sat back down on her bed. Why was she doing this?! She could be arrested!

Jessica suddenly popped back up. “Right, I got the map. What are you waiting for? Let’s move, move, move! We’re on a rescue mission not a camping trip!” She paused for a moment, a grin spreading over her face. “Let’s go save your man.”

1Aves are a type of bird found in Skyy. They are similar to owls, as in they are nocturnal, but they look more like big, puffy seagulls.