VIRUS (TV Pilot)

Sorry if WordPress changes the Structure a bit! Hope you enjoy! warning: for mature readers only.






The classroom is filled with students chatting together; they sit casual chatting to each other as their registration teacher has not arrived. KATRINA sits at her desk near the back window of the classroom with some of her friends surrounding her, she is fifteen years old and noticeably wears her uniform strict to the dress code in comparison to her classmates. It’s a wash of noise of voices on top of each other so what is being said is unclear and insignificant chatter. MISS DAWN walks into the classroom and over to her desk.


                        MISS DAWN

          Alright settle down and take your seats.


The teenagers begrudgingly go to their seats for the register to be taken. KATRINA who is already at her own desk straightens her posture.


                        MISS DAWN

               Very good, I’ll start the register,

David Bracken.





                        MISS DAWN

                      Sarah Walker.






                        MISS DAWN



All of the pupils phones except Katrina’s (that is off) start to ring with text message alerts and they all take out there phones out their bags and pockets to read the message that they have received.



                        MISS DAWN

                   Come on, you know the rules.

                   Put your phones away.


All the pupils who read the message have become eerily still and expressionless, they all get up simultaneously and KATRINA at the back is spooked by the behaviour as much as MISS DAWN. With their eyes fixated on the phones in their hands they all begin to mechanically walk towards the classroom door to leave.


                        MISS DAWN

                    Get back to your seats!


Eerily they all turn their heads towards MISS DAWN before giving her eye contact, one of the boys start to walk back up to MISS DAWN while the others follow just behind. KATRINA stands up as if to speak as well but she is too afraid to speak a word, so stands frozen to the spot.


                        MISS DAWN

                   I will not ask again.


MISS DAWN is violently punched in the face by the boy. The punch is so forceful it knocks her to the ground. KATRINA lets out a gasp in shock as she watches her classmates gather round MISS DAWN as they all start to kick and punch her. They do not stop even when we see that MISS DAWN has stopped moving and keep violently attacking her. KATRINA witnessing the attack lets out a scream.









On the screen it states the location and time. Hundreds of teenagers ranging from around twelve to eighteen are storming the streets like a chaotic mob. Some are armed and they smash shop windows and attack people on the street. A WOMAN is dragged screaming away from her pram into an alleyway by around five teenage boys. People are running and screaming. Some who try to fight them off are outnumbered considerably. When the mob reaches a crossroad armed riot police are in wait.



              Stop this violence at one. If you 

do not comply we will be forced to 

take action against you!


The teenagers keep moving forward with weapons in hand. The POLICE MAN becomes nervous.


                        POLICE MAN

              I said to stop this at once!


A boy that looks to be barely twelve starts hitting one of the riot men with his bat. The OFFICER defends himself with the shield unsure of what else to do.


                        POLICE MAN

              What are you doing? Stop them!




              But sir- he’s a kid!


The two parties clash as the teenagers do not back down and overwhelm the officers closest.









There is a crisis meeting between sergeants and officers in the metropolitan police force including detective chief inspector DANTE. They all sit in seats in the hall until chief constable DARWIN appears on stage and the officers salute him.




              Thank you all for being here today.

              As you can see we have issued not 

              only a national state of emergency 

              but a global one. Children as young as

              twelve have been reported missing as 

              well as being connected to violent 

              attacks. This began at 0905am when they

              all received a text message that read:

              ‘infected’. These children have a newly

              found violent nature and causing global

              panic. When I send you out to neutralise

              the situation remember that they are 

              vulnerable and so do not aim to harm but

              to restrain. Also be sure that members 

              of the public do not make contact with

              them or they will be risking their 

              lives. Now, let’s try to get these kids

              back home.


He had finished his speech and so the men rose to their feet and exit the hall with a rush. DANTE stays in the hall using his phone. After a few rings it goes to voicemail. DARWIN has come down from the stage to approach DANTE



                   Damn it.



              Everything alright Dante?



              I don’t know Michael. Sarah,

              She isn’t answering her phone

              and neither is Claire.



              I’m sure your daughter and Claire

              are fine. How old is Sarah now?






              Well she is probably can’t

answer. Not every kid has

              turned violent. Many schools 

              have evacuated so don’t worry 

              too much.



              Yeah I know. I better get

              This mess sorted out.



                   That’s the spirit! 


Inspector ANNA walks up to the pair with a grim face. In her hands she carries an active iPad.



              Sirs, There is something you 

              Should both see regarding the

              kids involved.



              What is it Inspector Williams?


She turns the iPad’s screen towards the two men whose faces change to shock. DANTE takes the iPad out of ANNA’s hands to inspect closer.



                   What is this Anna?



                   It’s a public post on



The Facebook post on the screen is from a user named Rick Wilson who has posted a gruesome picture of a dead woman (notably the one with the pram earlier) with the caption ‘check out this whore’. The post has around 30K likes and the comments are being updated constantly. They pop up in this order on the screen:

Rita Jones


Martin Quinn

Stupid fuckin whore Lol

Steven Cairne

Better of raped her! Slut

Rick Wilson

Steven Cairne Damn right lol. She had fantastic tits btw

DANTE turns the iPad off unable to read anymore. He hands it back to ANNA and turns to DARWIN.



              Do you still believe that these

              kids are going to go home at the

              end of all this?



              I hope so, or I have no idea

              what we are going to do.








KATRINA walks through the street scared. She is looking for help but the street is barren. She knocks on a few doors shouting for help but no one comes to answer. She walks on the verge of tears. Around the corner she sees a girl with two boys around her eyes. She tries to call on them but a hand is placed over her mouth and she is dragged into an alleyway. She tries to fight NOAH off and he lets her go. She turns to him.



                   What are you doing?





NOAH has a finger to his lips asking KATRINA to be silent. NOAH is at seventeen years of age, his clothes look rough and dirty along with unwashed hair and a filthy face.      




                   You can’t let those guys 

                   Find you.




                   Why not?




                   Trust me okay?

                   Let’s go.


He starts to walk back to the opening of the alleyway and KATRINA begrudgingly follows him. NOAH looks to make sure that the group has left. He starts walking towards the school building in the distance.



                   Where are you going?



                   Well your school is

                   over there right?



                   But it’s empty now.

                   There is nothing in 

                   It now except for…







                   Shouldn’t we go

                   Look for help?



              You don’t have to come.


NOAH starts to walk to the school, KATRINA stands still wondering what she should do.



                   Don’t walk so fast!


KATRINA catches up with him and they walk together.








The entrance way into the school was abandoned except for the few bodies of dead pupils and staff members. KATRINA and NOAH avoided looking too closely at them while they walked.



              Can you take me to the 

P.E department?



Why would you want to

go there?





              I need a shower. Desperately.

               Don’t pretend you haven’t



KATRINA looks away from NOAH embarrassed by his honesty. She nods shyly to his request.



          Sure thing… I’m Katrina Roberts, 

What’s your name?



              It’s Noah. Just Noah.













KATRINA and NOAH walk towards to door of the boys changing rooms. NOAH attempts to walk in when he noticed KATRINA is waiting beside the door.



                 Aren’t you coming?



                   W-why would I? Your

                   going to shower!



                   We are safer together.

                  At least wait inside okay?



                   Um okay when you put

                   It that way I’ll make

                   an exception.


They get into the changing room where bags and clothes have been left abandoned by a class who would have been taking gym. NOAH starts to rummage through the bags.



                   What are you doing?


NOAH finds a t-shirt, hoodie and jeans that will fit him along with a towel.




                   Not like they will be

                   Coming back for them, 

                   I’ll be a sec.


NOAH walks into one of the shower cubicles and KATRINA sits on the wooden bench closest. NOAH can be heard turning on the shower. KATRINA jumps out her skin when she hears NOAH groan loudly.



              You have no idea how long 

It’s been since I had a hot




I could guess!






     Very funny! 


KATRINA starts to laugh as well before she becomes quiet again.



                   Why did you stop me earlier?



                   Do you know what happened to

                   your school?



                   Yes I was in class when they…



                   Everyone around our age is

                   like that. They started attacking

                   everyone that wasn’t them.



                   If that’s true what will

                    We do if they find us?



                   I’ll run out naked and 

scare them off!


They both start to laugh at the statement. NOAH switches off the shower. He starts to dry off and get changed. He walks out of the changing room dressed in the other clothes while he leaves the old ones in the shower. He walks across to KATRINA and sits beside her while he dried his hair with the towel.



                You don’t go to school?




                    Thought we had a silent

                   agreement that I was 

                   a bum?




                   I was just asking.



                   Nope. Now let’s go to your

                   canteen feels like I haven’t

                   eaten in days!




                   You haven’t eaten in-



                   It’s just an expression!





They both start to laugh again and the door of the changing room door opens. A TEEN boy enters with a blood soaked school uniform and bat. KATRINA and NOAH fall silent and rise to their feet.



              Thought doing the rounds would

              Be fun.



                   Katrina run!


KATRINA remained frozen to the spot while Noah ran up to the TEEN. TEEN swings his bat and hits NOAH in the head. NOAH falls to the ground. The teen approaches KATRINA while dropping his bat. He throws her to the ground and she starts to scream. He gets on top of her and uses his hands to keep her pinned to the floor. NOAH with blood running down his head from behind uses the bat to choke the TEEN until he passes out. NOAH throws the TEEN off of KATRINA.   



                   I-I though you were-


NOAH puts out a hand to help KATRINA up off the floor.



              I’ve been hit harder.











DANTE sits at his desk worried. He has his phone to his ear, it rings off and he sighs. There is a knock at his door and DARWIN walks in.



                   How you holding up?



                   I got a hold of some of the

                   staff that evacuated Sarah’s

                   school. Apparently she was off

`                  ill. Claire isn’t answering 

                   her phone at all so I have 

no idea what’s going on.



                   At least you know she is

                   safe. And you know how 

                   stubborn Claire is.




                   Yeah my ex-wife hasn’t

                   answered my calls in

                   in ten years.



                   Exactly DANTE. Go 

                   Home, get some sleep 

                   and when this is all 

                   over you can go visit.





              Night Michael.


DARWIN leaves the office and DANTE puts the phone back to his ear attempting to phone his ex-wife again. It starts to ring.




SCENE 8                   




Claire’s phone starts to vibrate and ring from DANTE’s call. Just across from the phone on the kitchen counter Claire lies glassy eyed on the floor with multiple stab wounds to her back. 



VIRUS (TV Pilot)

Back from the dead-It’s been a while


For those who still follow this blog, hey how are you?

You are just looking great! Have you lost weight?

And I’m sorry for just skydiving off the radar so suddenly.

See the truth is for the past few years I have been struggling with my social anxiety. Even though I created this blog when I was getting better, after leaving college I spiralled into it again. My college life though was still a struggle, it let me face my fears and put my writing out there. My book writing was on authonomy, my blog being filled with my very own stories and poetry.

Afterwards, I left my blog to rot and closed down my authonomy. I abandoned everything because of a mental bomb that I risked setting off with each push forward-especially when people I knew read my work. After a few months of an extreme state of anxiety I thought I had come back from (you know your having bad days when you can’t even go to the counter at McDonalds and ask for food), with the help of friends, family and a new mindset I am back.

My work may not suit everyone’s tastes but I am going to write it. People can read it, hate it and mock it but I am going to write it.

My work is dark and different, that’s how I like it.

I am still struggling, I know that.

But I’m not afraid anymore.

Back from the dead-It’s been a while

The Clockwork Heart

Hey everyone! Here is a short horror story. I warn you that it is not for children, or the faint hearted. This is thanks for 50+ follows. Oh and if you have the time follow me on twitter at and like me on Facebook at

Thanks for reading!

The Clockwork Heart

It was a morning like any other in my opinion. I got up out of bed, got ready and went off to work. I was just a quiet, normal guy. I never bothered anyone and as a husband I was neither good nor bad. I did my share with my wife, taking care of our five year old daughter Sarah and we never argued or anything like that; we were a normal family. Now I work a plain old office job, it’s nothing special; just working with clients, numbers, text…etcetera. So like I said, it was a normal day. So I sat there at my desk just off the phone with a client, scribbling the contents of the long draining conversation. 12 o’clock would have been rolling in soon and I was thinking if I should go to the canteen for lunch, what I was doing after, what time to pick up my daughter. Things like that. Then I heard a scream from Cassie; the receptionist at the front desk. It was meant to be a normal day and this was never meant to happen.
The man who held the gun to Cassie’s head was rugged; I assumed he was definitely on some narcotics. He smelled foul, and as he grinned his blackening, decaying teeth were baring for us all to see. He shouted for us all to stand and put our hands in the air. Of course, we all complied. He then had us all line up for him and the maniac waved the gun around. Now at this moment my co-worker, David who was known to not be the brightest spark in the office, decided to utter the slightest noise in an attempt to form words.
Maybe David had wanted to speak up for himself or maybe attempt to calm our captor. Either way it didn’t matter. Even though it was David who had squeaked; it was me that he pulled the trigger at. I could feel the bullet start to tear into my chest and in a nanosecond, it was all over.
I jolted awake not knowing where I was. Was it all a dream? I questioned myself looking around at my surrounds. I was lying on a bare table top in what looked like an abandoned warehouse. The walls thin and rusted and it felt just empty and devoid of any life. However, when I turned my head all of a sudden there was a hunched man. He was shrunken with age and though I could not seem his face clearly under the hood he had long, worn fingers clasped together which showed his age.
“Finally you have decided to come from the other side.” He whispered with a rasp, screeching voice.
“Who are you?” I questioned and he replied again with a soft spoken answer.
“I am the one people call when they need more time in the living world. They call me the Clock Maker. Your heart was destroyed, but you were not ready to move on. So I fitted you with a new one.” Horrified at the revelation with disbelief I looked to my chest to see if I had been tampered with. To my horror the flesh had been cut open and spread revealing my insides. Where my heart was meant to be there was a grim looking piece of bloody machinery made up of clogs and bolts. Slowly I saw the pieces turn, grinding the connected valves slowly into it. I suddenly became aware of the excruciating pain that I was in.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked with a voice filled with pain and fear.
“Because you need time, you have five hours to do as you wish to let you rest in peace. However, as time goes on the machine in your chest will slowly tear you up from your valves to your arteries, organs and veins. Then when time is up you will go to your final resting place. I took in his words slowly, though it was hard to grasp my situation, I had no real choice but to go along. I got up from the table and looked to the Clock Maker.
“I’ll patch you up.” He hissed and I frowned.
“You better hurry, I don’t want to waste anymore time.”
I left the warehouse dressed to hide my gruesome stitching, with thoughts swirling around my head. Revenge: that was what I wanted. I knew I could not go after my killer; he was probably in custody, or even dead. No, I don’t even think my anger was even towards him. So I would take my frustrations on the one person that got me killed in the first place. David. If it wasn’t for him, I would still be alive.
Since I was never that close with David outside of work I had no idea where he lived. It would take too long to find out as well. I looked at the watch on my phone, it was 5.50, I had just under three and a half hours left and it would take around forty minutes to get to the office; David’s shift ends at eight so I had time to prepare myself. I was utterly consumed with anger and though I found it difficult to process that I wanted to kill a man, I realised that it may be because when you have nothing left to lose, morals slowly slip from memory. Law, justice, order, what was it all to me now? I was already dead inside. As the bus rolled into the city I left at a stop further away for an appropriate detour. I walked into the gun shop. I remembered when I signed the petition to try and shut the place down; anyone who knew me when I was alive would call me a hypocrite. I came out with a Glock; if he was going to die it would be with a bullet in his chest.
I checked the time on my watch: 7.10. I had time to take that twenty minute walk to work. As I walked I gripped my chest, digging my fingers into the thick wired stitching, on the edge of madness to not rip out the contraption that was killing me. Blood started to seep through my shirt so I wrapped my coat tighter round me. When the office was in sight it suddenly hit me that I couldn’t walk straight into it, I would be recognised right away. I walk to the back of the building and took out my keys for the back. I quietly open the door and it is unusually quiet from the back entrance. Nonetheless I made my way to the open plan office where everyone was working. There was no one. Not a soul was in the office and David’s desk was empty. How could this happen. I walked to the reception area and what I saw stunned me. Flowers were everywhere, covering the desk and floor around it. There were ten people’s pictures including mine on the top of the desk. Carrie, David and other of my co-workers had been killed just like me. I looked to one of the articles pinned on the front of the desk. I needed more answers. Apparently after killing me he went on a rampage before being gunned down by one of our security workers. All of a sudden I see the picture of Ruth, my wife and Sarah, they were morning. Then it hit me, I never said goodbye. I… wanted to see them again.
I looked to my watch: 8.10, I only had just over an hour left. It wasn’t enough time. I ran to the automatic doors at such a speed that I crashed through the glass. I ran out to the traffic and a car slammed down on the brakes to avoid hitting me. I ignored the angry driver, throwing him out the car and speeding off. I slammed on the accelerator. I needed more time I needed more time more time more time time time!

I could see the house on the horizon and looked to the cars inner clock, it was 9.19. I slammed on the brakes and the car started to roll. I clambered out onto my lawn. The pain was unbearable; I was hanging on by a thread crawling towards my front door. My vision started to blur, with tears or pain I don’t know. I stretched out my hand to the door. Pleading for them to open the door for me.
However it all went to black, for the last, time.

The Clockwork Heart

Poetry Collection

Well I realised it had been a while since I uploaded anything on this blog. Well I wrote a few poems back in October and decide now would be a good time to share them. I have to warn that some have MATURE CONTENT and its safe to say I was in full swing of the Halloween spirit. Enjoy 😉 :

 The Cleaner’s Ad

Twenty-four hours and seven days a week,

I am a phone call away,

To get rid of your unwanted meat.

My equipment is top notch, and I assure

It will be carved to perfection to fit in the bags.

Disposed effectively, however way you please.

My confidential services,

Are of course discreetly praised.

Amongst all of my clients and

Charge varies on weight and, body count.

Don’t be shy,

I’ll take care of everything.


You are most beautiful,

And now your body is cold,

Finally eyes are black, dull,

Shrivelled with decay weeks old.

I touch with baited breath,

Fingering the slimy skin,

Lips tainted with death,

How I do love lifes fin.

Together in the night,

I can make love to you,

barely out of God’s sight,

indulging in taboo.

They say death do us part,

But thats when the fun starts.

The Attic

I come here now.

To find you,

maybe even myself.

The attic as you know,

Is the most godforsaken room,

In my entire home.

Ouija boards, curses and spirit games,

Fill this empty space,

Childhood terrors in this place.

Yet I reminisce and revel,

those memories sweet and bright,

to explore a world out of sight.

So even with the tug of hair.

Scratch of skin from those near,

I will still continue to come here.

So I do love the attic,

but I think I will be afraid,

of the dark, forever.



We have come to terms with it.

There was no escape from this fate,

of hunger.

We had grown fond of each other,

in our short time together.

Three days we have been stuck down here.

Our tongues had swelled and

it was hard to breathe,

ribs piercing through paper skin.

The suggestion spoken by him killed,

the humanity that was left in us

but we both agreed to it.

With the flip of change,

one would be given an end,

while the other would get relief.

When it came up heads,

it might have been a blessing or a curse,

whatever it was it gave me bitter hope.

With the last of my strength,

I got a rock as black as death,

like a reaper I brought it on his head.

With his face nothing but mush,

though tears streamed down my face.

He was food now.

The flesh torn from his bones,

was raw and bloody.

The chunks slipped down like butter.

I choke and gag,

quenching my thirst.

filling a hole.

I realised when I was sick and full,

that no longer was I living,

being completely filled with a dead man.

Poetry Collection

The Last Son- Short Story

Hey… guess who is still alive? Me 😀

Yeah so me and NaNoWri are still together though our relationship has become somewhat rockier. Well as long as I’m still writing and not giving up its a triumph to me at least. So here is a short story I have written for someone in the world to at least enjoy. WARNING: This story contains content which might be considered graphic and disturbing. Read at your own risk.

The Last Son


My mother died on a sticky, hot day. The summer sun set the sky on fire as my brother and I ran in the rich green bushes and lush grass in our vast garden. Though he was the eldest, he was shorter than me and was naturally timid and gentle, a trait that was found in my mother. Like any other boys we rampant and loud to all creatures around us, we did not have a care in the world. Barefooted we ran onto the stone of our patio which was red hot and made me jump up and down to try and stop my feet from burning as we approached my houses back door. I called for my mother and my voice echoed emptily inside. No answer, I called again and my brother called out when I again received no answer. Until outside there was a large thump to the ground, accompanied with a sound that I can only describe today as a gruesome snap and splash. I turned my attention back the outside and followed my ears on where the sound had resonated from, my brother close behind. As we went around house I noticed the wall was blotched and scratched with red, flecking like a rash on its surface. A few seconds later, we found the body. The blood was still seeping into her long golden hair that made an angelic halo around her head, with the impact her blood had been splattered everywhere, as we ran to her body I felt the blood sticking to my feet from the heat already. I shook her, I screamed for her to wake up but her face was a marbled blue and purple as if deathly cold. I gave up and fell into her chest sobbing. As I cried a dark shadowed appeared, looming over us. I looked up to see my father peering over the balcony above.

He said she fell, at her funeral as both my brother and I sobbed freely that she was gone. Mr Sawyer, a friend of our family longer than before I was born was in ruins, crying out her name over and over. He showed more emotion than my father ever did that day. He stood with a face of stone, the entire day he stayed close to my brother and when they lowered mother’s coffin into the dark crypt prepared he gripped onto his shoulders like a vice. I stayed for a while in the crypt, looking at the sculpted body carved onto the lid made to depict her. The sculptor had done an awful job; she was far more beautiful than this ugly, cold stone. I jumped with surprise when a hand touched my shoulder. “Sorry Ashten, I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Said Mr Sawyer apologetically and retracted his hand away from me.

“No I’m sorry Mr Sawyer, I-I’m just a little under the weather.” He smiled.

“Hey no need to be so formal, call me James and don’t talk like that, you are still a child.” He chuckles before he reached out and ruffled my hair which made me feel a little better. We smile at each other before he turns to look at the crypt “You couldn’t leave her either?”

“Well, father and Jason needed to get paid respects; I didn’t want her to be left alone.”

“Ah I see what a good son you are. She would be so proud.” I beam at the complement, it meant a lot. “But, we can’t stay here forever, so how about we go back to the house and like we stand strong for her?” I nod, though I start to sob again, as he lead me back he looked to the sky with shimmering eyes “I was very fond of your mother Ashten, she was one of the most wonderful people in this world.” He made me cry even harder and we both cried our last tears before entering the house.

A few years past and death was back to take someone else I loved, Jason was bedridden with a fever. I sat next to him on the bed, not caring if I was at risk of catching his illness. His breath was hot and heavy as he gasped, struggling to keep inhaling. “Ashten?”


“Will you protect me?” I smiled.

“Hey, you are my big brother you can’t say such things.” He laughed with a rasp.

“Yes, you are right. I’m not a very good brother am I?” I frowned with a deep furrow, wondering how he could think so little of himself.

“You are strong Jason, you know that.” He smiled faintly, before he started to shake, tears welled up in his eyes.

“Ashten, I-I’m scared.”

“You will get better, do not be frightened.”

“No not of this sickness, of-”

The door of the bedroom banged open to reveal my father with a face of thunder. “Ashten! I said that you were not to come in here, you dare disobey me?” Both Jason and I were frightened as he stormed over grabbing Jason and lifting him off the bed like a ragdoll. We screamed, I tried to reach for him but father threw me down quicker than I could get a hold of Jason’s hand. He stormed out the room, with Jason still screaming in his grasp. I didn’t see my brother alive again, a week later my father said he did not make it. So at his funeral, it was my shoulders my father hooked onto.

Six years past and my father had banned me from going outside, saying I was too precious and he didn’t want to lose me. At eighteen years old I had become a full-fledged man, I had not seen a soul for all the time my father had kept me locked up in this room. I was locked up in my mother’s old room, though I was puzzled that I was not kept in my own, it was comforting to be around her things. I was reading a book on the bed as usual when I heard unfamiliar voices from outside my room. I look through the keyhole. I see two servant women who I did not recognise were just on the landing in front of my door. There words were harsh and whispered, meaningless words laced with gossip and giggles. “Ladies! What are you up to?” The voice was unusually velvet and smooth but I instantly recognised it as my fathers. “Sorry Lord Campbell, we were just on break and on our way to the servant’s quarters.”

Please call me Master Ashton, Lord Campbell is my father. No need to be so formal.” As the girls giggled nervously at his suggestion I was completely shocked. What on earth was my father thinking? It makes no sense it had to be some sort of joke. The servants rushed away and I heard them go down the stairs. I should have shouted while they were there, it didn’t occur to me at the time, I was filled with shock and anger. I started wrecking the room, knocking over anything in my path. I went to my mother’s Vanity and flipped it. Her old makeup and perfume smashed on the floor, her fragrance brought my rampage to an end and I fell onto my knees on top of the twinkling shards. I breathe in again and fall onto my hands, it stings when the shards cut my fingers and palms but I didn’t care. Why mother? Why is father doing this?  As my vision started to blur with the beginning of tears I notice something strange in the Vanity mirror that I smashed in my rampage. Underneath the crumpling mirror fragments still attached to the mirror I noticed a cream envelope peeking out. For a second I wondered how it was even possible, but I realised that my mother might have slipped it in between the backing and the glass. I hurriedly crawled over to it, tearing the letter out from the mirrors grasp. It was addressed to a William, my father’s first name. It was still sealed with the wax as if it had never been opened. I started to read.

Dear William,

I’m afraid my darling, I will gone from this world very soon. I pray to god that you get this letter. You are the most precious thing to me William, so I beg of you to run far away from this place. Your father, he is not human. I did not realise it until my second child, your brother Drake, was taken from me. Do you remember how both your brothers had a horrible sickness? I was so desperate to visit Drake that I saw a sight so terrible I will not repeat it. You are now my only child left in this world and as a mother it is my duty to make sure you survive. I am in my last hour I suspect, your father will not let me live to tell you, or anyone else this.  God cannot protect me; the noose is already around my neck. If you survive through, I will be at peace.

Your loving mother.


Though I was disappointed that it was not my own mother, I said a prayer for the William who never got this letter. Now the bigger question was who, or what was my father? Before I could think, I felt a presence behind me and when I tried to turn round, my vision blacked out.

My head thumped as I awoke from my forced slumber and it took a few moments for my hazy vision to become clear. When I finally came round it came to my attention that I was lying down on a lounge chair. As I arose my head spun but nonetheless I felt vulnerable lying down. I heard the clink of metal on china; I look across to see my father stirring what seemed to be a cup of tea. He appears to be younger than I last saw him; in fact, he looked almost as young as me. He was eerily handsome, though his face was emotionless as I could remember. However, all of a sudden there was a smile that appeared on his face as he looked to me, the smile would usually come across as warm but all I felt was a cold stab. As his eyes were filled with hunger, hunger that was directed towards me. “You are awake? Good. Come here and have a seat, we have much to talk about.” I was hesitant but, I had no real choice and I needed answers. I got up shakily and staggered over to the seat opposite him. I sat down and steadied myself with my hands on the table.  He poured me some tea into a cup and saucer and I cursed myself for giving mumbled thank you to him out of the bad habit of good manners. “Drink.” He ordered me while still staring at me with the eyes of a predator. Again, I had no choice but to comply I took a sip before realising he had not touched his at all, big mistake.

I was surprised when I became immobilised, falling face forward onto the table letting go of the cup and saucer so that it smashed on the floor, the tea spilled all over my legs but I didn’t even flinch or scream though it was burning my legs through the cloth. Whatever he had given me, it had completely hindered my speech and movement. “Datura Metel; also known as the Devils Trumpet. It is a poisonous plant that can be found in Italy and often causes fatality. Don’t worry I haven’t used enough to kill you, the paralysis is temporary. It’s just that I can’t have you fighting back is all. I bet you have a lot of questions.” He touches my head and harshly pulls it by the hair so that I face him. “Have you ever heard of the Wolf Spider?” I look towards him blankly and he continues.

“The wolf spider will have many offspring; however, for its own survival it will eat as many of its offspring as it needs to stay alive. Filial cannibalism they call it, the eating of one’s young.” My eyes widened at the explanation, and he grinned sickeningly.

“Ah, you understand? You brother was too young to grasp the concept.” My blood ran cold with the realisation. He had eaten Jason? How on earth? “I see you read the letter Jane left, she hid it well. Like your mother she found out that I was not human.” Mother found out? Is that why she- “Yes Ashten, your mother died by my hand. She was going to tell that Sawyer of my true identity. So I called her to the balcony, before strangling the life out of her. When I was finished I tossed her body like waste.” My eyes lit up, he was a monster.

“You see, my children are blessed with the same blood as me. We can live forever, when we drink the blood of our kind. Once upon the time we drank the blood of humans, but over time it deformed us with the taint of mortality. It is now our poison.” He used my other hand to stroke my cheek; if I could have shivered I would have chilled myself to the bone. “You are my 547th son and my 863rd child if you believe it. The girls were useless, so I made sure they died quickly.” He grabbed his own cup flinging out the poison liquid in dramatic fashion before he got up and walked towards me. He leaned to my neck, with a crooked and sharp fingernail he pierced the soft flesh which almost eagerly bled out into his awaiting cup. He lifted the cup to his nose, smelling my blood as if it were fine wine. “A toast.” He said with a crooked grin. “To my good health.” He swung it back, swallowed; before he started to choke. I could see confusion on his face as he stared at me. Then suddenly his eyes widened as if an epiphany had come upon him. “That…bitch…you are… mortal.” He tried to walk toward me with a menacing look in his eye. However, he fell and while crawling towards me, and perished before he could even touch me.

I was found a day later, still paralysed next to the dead body of my father. Mr Sawyer had waited in the wings as he had been banished to see me. He made sure one of the top doctors in the country was the only one to treat me. Slowly my body recovered, but I’m afraid my mind did not. I am still haunted by my father, my brother and my mother. There dead faces walk in the daylight as well as my dreams. When I lay my head to the pillow sometimes before I dream I hear the ringing of hundreds of voices of children, screaming and snarling, the sound of flesh tearing. As if they are feeding.

I should thank Mr Sawyer for my mortal blood, that one day I will have the salvation of death.

The Last Son- Short Story

The Great Pretender- Short Story

Still continuing on with NaNoWriMo but still feel that I should post this short story. I hope other writers are going okay with there novels as I’m feeling the stress, seriously my eyes are burning. So hopefully you will enjoy my short story and give me your thoughts. 🙂

WARNING: This story contains gore and violence that is aimed at a mature audience go forth at your own risk:

The Great Pretender

Evan was the best pretender. He could have convinced anyone in his primary school class of anything. From pretending to be rich to pretending to be a secret agent, his class would be in awe and look at him with respect. They would applaud his heroic attempts as the world’s gymnastic protégé and be amazed at the songs he had written, though they were actually from some niche music band on the internet. Even adults, with whom he was extremely careful what he said, would even sometimes be fooled and envy his parents. So, from a very young age Evan knew what he was best at: pretending. He was happy with that, being a pretender. However, now everything had changed.

No longer was Evan in primary school. He was in high school… ugh. What a boring place this was – where the real world matters the most. In a flourish, he was pounded with questions – what subjects does he want to take? What job did he want in the future? All stuff that never really mattered to him and it made him afraid. He wasn’t really that good at anything but pretending. He didn’t have good grades or talents like playing an instrument or being amazing at a sport. This was a strange predicament for him. He was so confused and angry that he was being forced to comply with a world that was too real and disappointing. So, in his first period in Biology, Evan had an epiphany. He didn’t have to stop pretending, he just had to get better at it. He started small; pretending he was faint, telling his classmates he had ridiculous allergies. These gave him a small high but he knew this was just practice for the real pretending. In high school, words were not going to be enough.

The character: an unfortunate soul; somebody who had no reason to lie about the unfortunate events that happened to them – but he would. He walked into the boy’s bathroom and made sure there were no witnesses in the cubicles. This was the beginning of a whole new kind of high. He opened the entrance door of the bathroom wide, making sure he was out of view of the hallway cameras. Shaking violently with adrenaline, he gripped the doorframe with his other hand. With one breath, he readied himself and then slammed the door. His scream was loud and shrill; it was perfect and drew nearby teachers and students to his aid. His fingers were broken, their form crushed and distorted as they turned a dark, almost black purple. He whimpered, saying how it was all a blur and he didn’t know what happened. They ate it all up; it was all his class could talk about for the rest of the morning before he was sent home. In his parents car he was shaking, with excitement.

Before even his fingers had healed up, he managed to find a blind spot from the cameras on the school staircase and successfully fell down them. He landed even better than he planned; he did his best not to cry out too loud when his leg snapped. The bone in his shin tore through his flesh in an instant, the white peeking out from a bloody wound. He lay there, pretending to be unconscious until the bell rang for break wherein crowds of students would file out and instantly see his unfortunate accident.

He carried on having a series of accidents at an erratic pace. His fellow classmates pitied him and teachers took him to the side thinking he was being bullied – which was an amazing bonus. Though he felt amazing, he stopped his antics for a few months to let himself heal. He needed to be ready for the next thing to pretend.

The character: an abused child. It’s not that he disliked or hated his parents but it was too tempting to resist. Having monsters for parents is something he could pretend to have for the rest of his life. So in the morning, when his parents were fast asleep, he walked into the family bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. For a few minutes he repeatedly punched himself in the face until he deemed it swollen enough for comment, trying not to be too loud and wake his parents.  So, for a month he walked around with bruising and he hardly saw his parents because of their addiction to work which suited his plans well enough. However, he knew that he needed to take it further. Although there were questions raised, there are plenty of kids in school who get beaten around – it wasn’t that special. So, he had to make sure his parents were the most psychotic, sick bastards that they had ever seen; not only in their teaching careers but ever in their life. Slowly, he let himself get thinner, paler still suffering bruising that made almost everyone do a double-take.

The next morning in the family bathroom was the finale; he had gagged himself appropriately with a towel as he took the tweezers to the first nail. He tried to do it slowly, the skin screaming in protest as it ripped a little. He paused, it was too painful and he had to be quick. He used all his strength at once and it came off: cuticle and bits of skin hung from the now bloody nail, the raw skin from his nail pulsated and spat blood. He threw up bile from the pain, tears streaming down his face. When he felt he was less shaky, he moved on to the next one.

So, when a quivering twelve year old boy with poorly bandaged bloody hands came cowering into school, all hell broke loose round the school. It took a few months for his parents to get their guilty verdict; he felt the euphoric when the gavel went down. He was the Great Pretender; he had made everyone believe him. After all, who would have believed a pair of abusers, right? He was just a poor, poor twelve year old child who was tortured by a pair of psychopaths. He was infamous all over the country and everyone believed him – well, except his parents of course. He had been put into the care system, which meant a new school. There were heartfelt goodbyes from classmates but he was excited; it meant fresh meat.

His new school wasn’t much different from the old and, of course, people knew who he was from word of mouth up and down the country. However, he hated it. He wasn’t getting anywhere near the attention that he craved. They sympathised but his past did not matter. Over the few weeks he had been here, they didn’t really care and what was a pretender without an audience? Instead, they all fawned over a popular boy in class who was talented and pretty. Evan’s blood burned in his veins as he stormed to a bathroom. He went into the concealed part of his backpack and pulled out his penknife. He brought it to his wrist violently before pausing. No, this wasn’t right. This isn’t what a pretender does; it is attention-seeking behaviour that most people judged more than sympathised with. Then it hit Evan. Oh, he was a genius. He returned to the classroom to bide his time. The bell rang for the next period and he overheard Mr Popular needing to go to the bathroom alone. Finally, his chance had come.

He stalked Mr Popular to the bathroom and he waited till he went into the cubicle to take out his penknife. The character: a victim of attack. Evan covered his mouth before stabbing himself in the chest. He whimpered but Mr Popular in the cubicle next door did not question or even stir. Quickly, Evan left the bathroom and hurried to class as the halls were now empty. He had stabbed deeper than he predicted but it didn’t matter he would get help soon. His plan was perfect; Mr Popular wore leather gloves for the winter cold so he had an excuse for only Evan’s fingerprints being on the knife. His clothes had quickly become soaked with blood and it had started to trail across the floor. They would all rush to his aid; what a fantastic debut for his new school life. He finally made it up the stairs to his next class, however, he found it empty. Evan was confused at first but then it hit him – ah! That was the room number at his old school for his Art class. No matter, he thought, his breath ragged; it would make it all the more dramatic. He tried to go back down the stairs but stumbled. He fell forward, the knife plunging in deeper and he cried out. No, he wasn’t going to give up yet. He crawled forward, his blood dragged across the floor in a vivid red line. However, eventually he could move forward no more, his body lay twitching for a few minutes more, until it stopped.

Evan was the best pretender.

The Great Pretender- Short Story

Bump: Short story Halloween special

You know, usually I wouldn’t be uploading short stories this close to each other. You know, since I’m human. However, it’s Halloween! I just had to make the extra effort. Well hopefully you will enjoy and feel free to comment on my work. I also have to warn you without spoiling it that it is mature and not for the faint hearted. Well if you still wish to read here it is and thanks to those who read it. Happy Halloween:


It was difficult watching my husband’s break down. It meant a lot that he was devastated by the miscarriage of my early bump, but I hated seeing him torn apart by my body’s failure. It’s not that he blamed me but watching his suffering made me feel like I should be. Lately he had been having trouble sleeping because of it; nothing would help him get some shut eye. This morning I flicked open my eyes, guilty I was the only one getting escape from reality. “Good morning.” He said with a worn smile on his lips as they slightly quivered.

“Tom, you’re not sleeping?” I asked while I reached out to his face and stroked his cheek. “Yeah none, but it’s okay sweetheart.” I frowned at him, I couldn’t believe he was still refusing some help but I couldn’t go against him, it wouldn’t have been fair.

“Well, I’ll go make some breakfast for you okay? Oh and definitely some coffee” He laughed at my suggestion and nodded; it was nice to finally see him crack a smile. I left him to go downstairs to the kitchen. I fried the eggs and bacon, hoping that the smell of food would tempt him down sooner. However, after setting down the plates, the food ready and the coffee poured he didn’t come down. “Honey?” I called to him upstairs, I hear his muffled cry and I instantly knew where he was.

I walked into the nursery, the freshly painted baby blue walls burned my nose and for a minute I watched him in the rocking chair by the cot with a teddy he had bought himself in his hand. He stroked its head delicately as it lay on his lap. I had told him it was too early to be making a nursery but he was so excited he couldn’t help himself. I remembered him saying it was going to be a boy, that he could feel it in his gut. I laughed with him, letting him have his happiness, before I ruined everything. Yet I can’t do anything to help, so instead I walked over to him and held his head in my chest as he sobbed. “It’s just not fair Cathy. It’s not fair.” I hushed him, holding him tight.

The day dragged on like it was never ending, the sorrow and depression thick in the air, it made it hard for us to even breathe in the same space. Usually Tom would be at his work but his boss said he was in no state to go into the office. Though I agreed on that he was not fit to work, I felt that staying in the house was doing more harm than good. We were going be stuck in this rut forever. The day ended though and I got into bed waiting for Tom, even though I knew I’d probably be the only one sleeping that night. He appears in the doorway of the bedroom and I noticed the bear in his hand.

“Hey, this is going to sound a bit strange Cathy but, can the bear go on the bedside cabinet, just for tonight? I know it’s stupid but…” He gripped the bear and he seemed to be again on the brink of tears, I couldn’t refuse him. So he laid the bear on the cabinet before coming into the bed.

I woke up in the morning and I couldn’t believe my eyes. Tom, was fast asleep, his breathing soft and even, it was pleasant to my ears. I quietly slipped out of bed being careful not to wake him from the long needed rest. I was bursting with happiness, with this maybe we could start moving forward again, I thought as I go into the shower, turning it on. When the water rained on me I flinched in pain. Looking down I had a few scratches on my lower abdomen. I must have scratched myself in my sleep; maybe I should cut my nails they had gotten pretty rough since I hadn’t been taking care of them. I walked back through to the bedroom to see Tom awake, looking refreshed. “Morning sunshine.” I laughed and he smiled warmly back at me and motioned me to join him. It was the best day in a long time filled with rest and a little hope. So when it was night again Tom tried to take the bear back to the nursery but I told him to keep it there. He smiled and complied before getting into bed. I didn’t know if it was the bear or whatever had made him sleep soundly but I wasn’t going to take any chances.

The next few nights more and deeper scratches appeared on my abdomen in the mornings, seemed I had developed a nasty habit which was the last thing I needed. I cut my nails right back to the point of pain and hoped that it would go away, especially since Tom was finally sleeping soundly, though he too began to worry me again. He no longer looked rested after sleep and was more distant than ever. He did not cry but he hardly spoke. So when we went to bed again I didn’t expect to wake up so suddenly, to see him standing at my side of the bed, looming with a twisted grin on his face. “Tom!” I screamed at him in fright and it seems to shake him out of his trance as his face became familiar again. “Cathy what on earth?” His face was frightened and unsure of what was happening.

“I-It’s nothing sweetheart I think you were just sleepwalking, you just gave me a fright and sorry I screamed.”

“No don’t be sorry I woke you up, I’ll get this sorted on Monday okay? I promise.” He got in the bed and held me tightly before going back to sleep. I didn’t know if it was actually Tom that had made the scratches on me but I was relieved that it was going to get sorted.

So Sunday night I decided that I was going to stay awake and make sure he didn’t sleep walk. I lasted till around one in the morning, before I closed my eyes for two long and drifted into sleep. I woke up with a searing and sharp pain from my abdomen to look down to see it scratched bloody, the flesh agonisingly torn on the surface. I tried to sit up but I found that my hands and feet had been bound to the bed. I saw Tom at the side of the bed, his fingers bloody, skin under the nails. He looked at me with a hateful stare; it didn’t feel like it was Tom. I struggled trying to break free “Tom, Tom please wake up!” My pleads failed as I watched him reach to his side and with a glint of a knife I started screaming and violently thrashing as much as I could. He brought the knife to my abdomen, readying it to cut me open.

“Mummy, I’m going back in.”

Bump: Short story Halloween special