Elwin stepped into the multipurpose room of the flat. There were only three rooms in his flat: the aforementioned study room, the bedroom, and the multipurpose room. It was a square shaped room; on one side was a kitchen bench, cooker, and sink, on another wall the television, the next wall the door leading out of the apartment, and on the final side the two doors leading to the study and bedroom. The space in the centre of the room was greedily consumed by a wooden table with two padded chairs. The apartment was identical to all the others in this condominium that Elwin had seen. It had not occurred to him that it might be absurd for there to be no toilet located inside the apartment. Instead, all the toilets were located outside the apartment. While the only shower was located in a corner of the bedroom.
Elwin listened to the sound of the shower at the door of the bedroom. When he was satisfied his wife was indeed in the middle of one of her marathon showers he crept over to the small rectangular window near entrance. He checked that no one was there then quickly slipped through the door. Like all the other doors inside the condominium it had no lock on it. The walkway outside was made of metal, and would make a loud pounding sound normally. However, Elwin had learned to strike the walkway so carefully that he didn’t make a sound. Thus he started making his way to the farthest staircase in the back corner of the building. Continue reading “Thorns – Part 4”
Oriana put her empty cup on the table smiling broadly, “and that’s it? You found this place and built it?”
Kent nodded proudly.
“That’s brilliant. How do you get electricity? Is it just from all those car batteries?”
“I installed some solar panels on the roof of the factory. They keep those batteries over there charged. I set up the electrics with mostly spare parts that I found.”
“are you an electrician?”
“No, I bought an electrician’s textbook and read it cover to cover.”
“But you don’t have a certificate? What if you made a mistake?”
“Actually, I got a certificate for ping pong when I was twelve; so I couldn’t possibly make a mistake after that,” joked Kent, “but in all seriousness, how would an electrician’s certificate stop me from making a mistake? It’s just a piece of paper. Having a piece of paper doesn’t mean a person knows what they’re doing. Also, just because someone doesn’t have a piece of paper it doesn’t mean they don’t know what they’re doing.” Continue reading “The Monk – Part 4”
Lately, I have been working long hours and pushing myself to keep up my writing schedule despite my tiredness. The result has been that I find the quality of my writing has dropped significantly in two of my recent posts. I will go back and fix these pieces up so they’re up to the standard I feel comfortable publishing. When I first started this blog, I wanted to update it regularly, however, realistically it isn’t easy having a regular schedule of large updates. It would be much easier if I restrict my updates to a particular length. So starting next week, I have a new schedule.
The purpose of this is so that on the days when I am too busy or tired to write, I will always have something ready to publish. The posts will be shorter than they have been, but they will be consistent. Also, the quality shouldn’t suffer like it has recently with the rushed out pieces. Also, I am going to add my Patreon account to this page so if you would like to support my writing, please feel free to sign up. I will only charge my Patrons once a week on Saturday for the major update. All the other updates are free. Continue reading “Writer’s Diary: Reforms”
Kent produced a flashlight and guided Oriana about fifty metres up the pipe. Here it opened up to a small chamber. Kent passed the flashlight to her and then climbed up a ladder opening to a manhole at the top. Oriana followed him up and found herself in a stone chamber about 5 by 10 metres in size. There was a small rectangular sky light in the roof providing some natural light. Kent touched a switch on the wall and a series of LED lights came on fully illuminating the room. He offered Oriana his hand and helped her to her feet inside the chamber.
The chamber had four stone pillars that created two arches across the narrow section of chamber, with the skylight in between. The space was thus divided into six sections of roughly equal size. Starting from one corner and working clockwise was a queen sized mattress lying on pallets. The next segment held a fridge, an electrical switchboard, inverter, and a bank of car batteries. Next to this was a kitchen and pantry area consisting of a work bench, sink, and gas burner with a methane cylinder. Opposite this was a shower and a toilet. Then next to this was what looked like some kind pyramid of sculptures set up on ascendingly narrower shelves. There was some kind of decorative gym mat on the floor here. In the final segment was the manhole they entered into. There was a pulley on the roof for raising heavy loads, and a book shelf stuffed with books on one wall. In the center of the room was a small work table with a stool and an armchair. This table was directly below the skylight. Several paintings of buildings, landscapes, and scenes of people hung on the walls. Continue reading “The Monk – Part 3”
Long ago in the town of Marlenburg, there once lived a young woman called Bessica. She was an intelligent and educated woman, but she wasn’t pretty and her name was Bessica. She could not help but notice that all the men of the town ignored her, they liked the prettier women and she was angry with envy. All the men except for Jamie, the fletcher’s son, he liked Bessica and would bring her flowers and sometimes she’d chat to him and tell him of her frustrations. He would listen to her for hours and give her company.
Bessica appreciated Jamie, and although she had no romantic interest in him, being a poor boy, she decided to teach him how to read in return for his companionship. Jamie struggled at first, but soon mastered the alphabet and could read a few simple books and letters by himself. The love and respect for Bessica grew deep and strong in Jamie’s heart, in his eyes she was indeed the most beautiful woman in town. He told her one day that he was so thankful for teaching him how to read, that he wanted to marry her. Bessica told him he was sweet, but that they were not meant for each other.
In truth Bessica felt ugly, she felt insulted that she an educated woman was being completely ignored by all the gentlemen, and she could only be courted by a mere fletcher’s son. She howled with rage at her mirror Continue reading “The Tragedy of Bessica”
I am feeling too down to write today, so I thought I would share some drawings of mine. I haven’t actually done much drawing lately at all, but I hope to get back into the habit soon. I would like to be good enough to produce artwork for my books and maybe even produce a comic strip one day. All these drawings come from early 2016.
Continue reading “Some Drawings”
Oriana ran back to her father’s factory just around the corner from the street where Kent lived. She hurried up into an office, shut the door, and sat at her table in front of the window. The same window from which she had observed Kent walking by multiple times each day for months on end. This office was not actually hers. It belonged to Maggie, a part time accountant at her father’s factory. Since Maggie only used the office three days a week, Oriana had set up her own space inside it. Oriana had first started coming to the factory with her father when she was just seven years old. Although she had no interest in the manufacturing of paper, its processing, and packaging, nonetheless staying at the factory had always been a desirable place to escape to when she was a little girl. She had her desk for reading and writing, Maggie was grandmother aged and often doted on her, and she also liked walking around the industrial estate observing all the different things that went on in each factory.
Oriana took a loose leaf of paper and started jotting down a few notes about what had just happened. First, Kent did indeed live down Cutters Court. However, this cul-de-sac had some kind of building underneath it. Something big enough for a man like Kent to live in. Some questions started flowing out onto the page from her pen:
Why did Kent live underground? Maybe so he could be in hiding? Was he a fugitive? Could he be a terrorist or a criminal? Continue reading “The Monk – Part 2”