Posts Tagged ‘dislocations’

Morning Readers,

I really hope you liked all the prose I’ve been sharing lately. I have found my love of poetry and much like my writing mind it takes over. My mind never shuts down, its always on the go, its a good thing and a bad thing, especially when I’m trying to sleep.

I will be posting some prose later today, I’m working on an anthology submissions and Spilt Blood’s sequel. I love writing, it give me so much joy.

Don’t forget to check out my books #onehouseunited

http://smarturl.it/SpiltBlood

http://smarturl.it/SpiltBlood

Happy Writing

SImone

Hello guys

I enjoyed taking over a friends face book fan page yesterday and I shared a lot on their, I will share some here soon.

I have been a bit on the busy side, yet again, with writing Dirty Little Secrets, Poisoned By Blood book two, rewriting the basis for book three.  I’ve also been working on a few anthology submissions on day when my body allows.

Being a writer has one main advantage, other than entertaining others, of being a writer is that I can pick it up and put it down when I’m having a good pain day or when I’m having a bad pain day. It helps that my publishing company gives me a lot of understanding. They don’t judge me in anyway. Thankfully I have an excellent and wonderful husband, a brilliant family and a good network of friends that help me along.

Happy Writing

Simone

Hello Readers

Another post so soon, I know, my early New Years resolution is to keep my multiple blogs up to date, Yes multiple, Here, tumblr and TSU along with my instargram, twitter, facebook and linkedin accounts. I love my job and I am finally getting my head around they whole self promotion aspect of being a writer and sharing my tales with others.

I love the act of writing and find it relaxing. It has been something I’ve been doing since childhood, obviously my writing has evolved through the years. I recently went through some of my old writing stuff and I released how bad some of my early work is. I am finding ways of working around my damn dyslexia and the EDS is being a royal pain in the butt as my wrist, thumb and first finger are slightly out of place which makes typing a little painful but I can write long hand as its my left hand that’s not so well and I write with both but predominantly my write.

I have some things planed or my upcoming book release, some will be after Christmas and I have 11 books to give away during the release as well as a few other upcoming treats that I am currently working on, one of which includes recycling a few old books of mine.

Click here to join the release party!!

Click here to get your copy of Shattered Souls

Here’s two teaser posters, one for each current works.

promo poster 10 book one poster 4

Stay Tuned for more.

Happy writing

Simone

Hello Guys

A new week, and although the handles come off my fridge and my hubbies PC is dying I’m oddly in an optimistic mood.

I worked last week on the start of a tale for you guys called “You’re next!”

Have a read and vote if you want more. I have finished the first round of edits and I am in the process of typing up the bonus short for the fist instalment of Poisoned By Blood series. I will keep you apprised on what’s going on with that.

With the series I have added short’s at the end but I was wondering if you guys want me to put some on her and put the password for bonus content in the book. Let me know what you guys think.

I’m also going through some of my old poems and reading them to see if they are worth sharing and will post any that pass inspection.

 

Happy writing guys

Simone

Hi Readers,

Finally it’s done, completely done.

Please enjoy and let me know if you spot any errors I will be happy to change them.

Two Dead Boys

Preface

My name is Darryl and I am writing this account of the last few months while my memory is still fresh. I believe it happened despite everyone saying otherwise. I know it happened. I have the scar and death certificate to prove it.

You may think this a little fantastical and downright unbelievable but it is a one hundred per cent true.

I know.

I lived through it.

My doctors tell me it is my way of dealing with what happened, what they say happened, a nuclear station meltdown, but it is not. I escaped before the explosion. I had to. I had to tell others what happened but they think I am mad.

I will keep this detailed account safe and add to the paperwork I have and one day I will prove that I am in fact a walking dead man.

It is true. I have the proof.


Chapter One: The first weird thing

It all began during my senior year. We were two weeks in and everyone was already stressing about prom, graduation and exams.

Josh and I were raised together and always lived next door to each other. We were more like brothers than friends. We went to school together and our school was two towns over from the little collection of houses where we lived.

We lived on a small cluster of houses surrounded by farmland. Farmland our fathers worked on. Between the two families the houses held nearly twenty people including ailing relatives, parents, children, grandchildren and farm hands.

That day, the Tuesday, was the first day something strange happened.

On the farm there was an old storm/bomb shelter and the walls were nearly nine inch think for protection. This is, word for word, what my dad told us when we got home school.

“The donkey, dumb ass, was acting all strange like it had been bitten and the poison was slowly poisoning the body it was starting to go lame. Your Uncle Bill was trying to help, though he was soon pretty much blind as the ass knocked off his glasses. While we were trying to move the retched donkey it kicked out and caught your Uncle Bill right in the eye, and propelled him right through the storm shelter wall. By the time we got to him he was gone.” He relayed, fighting back the emotion, my father was the stoic type. “The doctor said he drowned from the blood in his lungs that had gotten there due to the damage caused by the fall.” He told us in horrific detail.

My father was always adamant that he would never hide anything from us no matter how horrific much to both our mother’s dismay.

“What about the donkey?” I enquired.

“Put down,” he replied, his face stern and stoic. “It had been bitten, it was the best thing for him. He was old.” Dad explained and left the room, leaving Josh and I to digest what we had be en told.

The workmen were hard at it fixing the storm shelter but yet there was an odd quietness hanging over the farm.

It didn’t occur to us then how strange Uncle Bill’s death was. Not by a long shot.

Even the next two events didn’t cause us to think, our town was still smarting from the death too much to even think about it.


Chapter Two: Two Freaky Scenes

Luckily the next event didn’t involve a death but it was, shall we say, pretty damn strange.

At the school Josh and I went to there was a few, for want of a better word, handicapped students. Among them was a blind boy and a dumb girl. They were from a family that lived just down the dirt road from us and we often gave them a lift.

One day, around a week after Uncle Bills death, Josh and I decided to do a few tricks on our skate boards but needed a referee. So we, I know it sounds strange, asked them to help us out. Julie, the dumb girl, agreed and Paul, her blind brother told us he would tell us what she was saying. They were twins which was always a source of amusement to us both.

Although she was mute Julie was incredibly pretty and the fact she didn’t speak was a plus for most of the guys at school, if you get what I’m saying.

Though she was pretty she was a thick as a post, she was also very, well, slow. She was in a special needs group but we didn’t hold that against her. She was a good laugh regardless of her shortcomings.

She watched as we did our tricks and her and her brother sat in deep though and an odd type of conversation. After around ten minutes of showing off she told us, via Paul, that Josh was better than I. As I was about to ask her why, though I knew it was because she fancied him, their father passed by. He was also dumb, a mute, never spoken once in his life.

Paul told me that I was good from what he heard but josh was just that little bit better.

As their father reached us he surprised us all by screaming “hooray,” at the top of his voice. It shocked us as we had always been told that he was physically incapable of speech.

My dad was close by and he heard it too, it shocked him too. He came running over and asked us what had gone on.

When we explained the whole thing to him he just walked away and giggled as he went.

Paul and Julie left with their father. Between then and the explosion their father never said another word.


Chapter Three: Huhh?

The third event yet for from the strangest happened two days after we showed off for Paul and Julie. It also didn’t involve any horrific and twisted death but oddly strange none the less though it does involve an accidental death or two.

Josh and I had been driving around our semi-rural town, having a bit of fun and we ended up in our counties over grown cemetery near an old abandoned church and we started acting out battles we read about in history. Much like when we were younger.

For hours we played, pretending to shoot at each other, fighting and being typical teenagers. It was Saturday and unbeknown to us at the time the church was no longer abandoned. A new priest had moved in that week and he had, stupidly, called the police.

When the officer arrived we were shocked, we tried to explain, yet he completely ignored us. It was as though he couldn’t hear what we were saying.

Once we arrived at the police station, petrified of our parents finding out. We were processed and put into cells next to each other. We sat on the makeshift beds and we could hear the officer’s talking as the station wasn’t that big. One of the officers enquired, “Peter, why’d you arrest ‘em, they were only playin’. The priest is new in town. If they’d ‘ave known they’d ‘ave gone elsewere’s.” His drawl evident in every shortened word yet our arresting officer didn’t even register that he was being spoken too, he just continued writing up our arrest. “Peter, are you even listening to me?” he asked, his voice raised, nothing registered.

Another, more senior officer, one level under Chief of Police, joined the conversation and got the officers attention. “Peter, you can’t hear anything, can you?” Peter realised he was being spoken to yet his face showed he was completely puzzled.

The senior officer then told one of the others to take Peter to the hospital to get checked out and then released us with a stern warning to stay clear of the old church.

Driving home we knew we had a lucky escape and we were glad it wasn’t going on our permanent record with college so close.

Smiling we turned up the stereo and drove back to the farm. Driving the long, stretched out road was dull and boring and the day started to take its toll and I started to fall asleep, Josh was already asleep next to me, snoring loudly.

I jerked myself awake but it was too late. We were about to collide with a two foot wide fern tree. I had no chance of stopping the car as we were going too fast.

I saw the tree speeding towards me at over ninety miles an hour. The last thing I remember before a prolonged darkness was the tree in front of my face, so close that I could smell the sap and the muddy bark. Then there was just complete blackness and emptiness.


Chapter Four: Resurrection and realisation

The next thing I remember is waking up. I was in a coffin, I had been buried alive, that was the only answer, and it had to have been. I managed to bang my way out, pulling my way up and out. Once out I looked to my left and noticed a slightly banged up Josh next to me.

We looked at each other. A few cuts and marks but nothing to serious.

Then I saw the stiches visible under his dishevelled top and the look on his face told me I had them to. Looking closer I realised that it was in fact a Y incision, the type you see on the chests of the dead bodies on these crime dramas.

We had died in the accident! We were dead! Why the hell were we back? We weren’t zombies, we had to much control and awareness to be a zombie.

We headed to the farm. If anyone could help us figure it out, Dad could.

When the door was opened we were initially greeted by a continuous flow of women screaming and fainting. After they calmed down they hugged us and we sat down and we noticed a lack of appetite and I didn’t want to dwell on the reasons why.

We looked over at my dad who had looked as though he was expecting to see us and had been giggling the whole time the others were screaming

When the others, the family, went back to bed Dad began to explain what was humouring him.

“It’s all like that rhyme that you boys used to sing when you were kids.” He began, His face still showing an odd smirk. “Two dead boys got up to fight.” He reminded us. I recalled it instantly as did Josh. I looked at him and he looked at me and instantly realisation hit.

Everything that happened in the rhyme has happened with two exceptions, the first verse and the last line.

“That rhyme is about us! What happens if we complete it?” I ask, worried and concerned about the possible implications.

“I have no idea son,” Dad replied, his face contorted in worry, “The best thing is to complete it and see what happens.” He advises us. I had to say it made sense. He went to bed still chuckling to himself.

We thought about it and discussed it at length that night and saw no other way of ending this whole sorry affair.

Leaving the farm the following morning we grabbed two Civil War swords that grandpa had collected and two of Uncle Bills pistols while Dad when to get Paul, the blind witness. All the while the women of our little family were hysterical and worried about the plan. They knew there was no way around it.

Chapter Five: First verse

We stood in the freshly ploughed cornfield. Swords glistening in the morning sun and pistols heavy. With one weapon in each hand we faced each other then flipped back to back.

Talking ten paces it dawned on me that I was about to hurt my best friend, my brother, not by blood but he was my brother none the less. How could I bring myself to do that?

I knew I had to. I knew it was necessary but it was still hard and painful to do.

As I finished my paces I turned around as fast as I could and emptied the old pistol into him as he did me.

There was no pain, no blood, there was just a gaping, puss riddled hole. It was as though we were still dead and out young attractive bodies were decomposing from under us.

Nothing happened. At first!!!!

Josh and I collected all the paperwork pertaining to out deaths and put them in a safe yet faraway place.

We started to go back to a normal life. Our bodies stopped decomposing and started going back to normal after we had our organs taking out of the bag they were in and put in their normal place.

Two months after one of the girls at school started acting strange almost as though she was no longer alive. She was vacant, emotionless and then came the biting.

The ‘infection’ spread through our close network of towns like a wild forest fire. It infected men, women and children. They were all turned into brainless, emotionless creatures. They were adamant on making more.

At first we were worried that we had caused it but we couldn’t be sure. We talked about it. Our joined family had been turned and we were trapped in the nearby cattle pen. The barn seemed to obvious and had to many entrance’s in it.

The CDC wrote the area off as a biohazard and the governments did the unthinkable and sent in a small yield nuclear missile and ‘sanitised’ the area blaming it on a meltdown at the local power station.


Chapter Six: Escape

What they didn’t know was that I escaped to a nearby infection free city.

My body was almost back to normal. The only thing that was missing was a beating heart.

I couldn’t let things be and started to tell anyone who would listen what happened and soon got myself committed to this hell hole mental asylum.

I am no longer living yet not yet dead. The doctors could not explain my lack of a pulse. Whenever they asked me I told them the story and they labelled me paranoid.

I was committed as they were sure I was completely insane, mental, mad, and barmy, they pretty much wrote me off.

None of the meds they have given me have had any effect on me what so ever. None

I know Josh was vaporised when the bomb hit. Everyone and everything was gone.

After a few months in this hell hole I began to notice signs of the infection in the hospital. It was just a few and could be wrong and they could have been heavily medicated but if I’m right then we have a problem.

I don’t want to die but if me living causes other people to die and not stay dead what right do I have to say my existence out weights theirs. If I spread the infection then I need to sort something out, but what? How can something no longer living actually die?

I have a lot to think about and this place is perfect I just wish they would leave me alone and stop telling me that I am crazy.

Only time will tell if I’m going to spread the infection until then I’ll hide here.

My blind witness, Paul, is still alive too. He was sent to a hospital two states over to get some rest bite and surgery before the explosion. Though he is now orphaned he is glad to be alive.

Before the ‘duel’ I asked my Dad what was wrong with Peter, the deaf police officer, the night Josh and I died. My Dad told me, “He had accidently discharged his weapon in the police cruiser and burst both of his ear drums making him completely deaf.

The rhyme had come true. I’m still living as it Paul, though for how long I don’t quite know.

* * * * * * * *


Chapter Seven: Dr’s analysis of Darryl Dorkings

Subject is paranoid and delusional.

His paranoia is based on his assumption that if anyone gets close to him they will contact some mystery illness that will turn them into zombie like cannibals.

His delusion is based around the idea that he is the walking dead, that him and his best friend came back from the dead to complete a child’s rhyme that is in fact a prophecy. He also claims his town and several near it were’ sanitized ‘ by the government in order to prevent the spread of this mysterious infection.

Noteworthy Information

The subject has no pulse, needs no food or water and any/all drugs/poisons do not have any effect on him. He has no blood and feels no pain, heat or cold.

Experimental Outcomes

Cells show signs of infection with the same virus that killed his home town and resulted in their deaths. The virus is unique and holds the key to creating the world’s most perfect army and/or and ideal weapon in biological warfare.

Subject is oblivious to the experiments we are running using the virus he is carrying nor is aware that he is the subject of an intense biological study.

Subject with remain committed until such time as he and the other test subjects are no longer needed. At which point the area and those in it will be ‘sanitised’.

As for the link to the rhyme ; yes it is there I see it when he explains it in sessions. It puts a whole new spin on rhymes and poems and those that write them.

Personal note.

The subject is a walking petri dish and possibly slightly insane but I am drawn to him. I can’t explain it. I want to touch him so much it hurts and I don’t care if I get infected. I sometimes struggle to stop myself. I am not the only one. Several female staff and patients have voiced the same urge.

Dr Annetta Jones

BSc, Ma, PhD, Md

Psychiatrist, Molecular Biologist, Epidemiologist

Here’s a reminder of the version I used for the above tale. There are severally different versions out there.

One fine day in the middle of the night,
Two dead boys got up to fight,
Back to back they faced each other,
Drew their swords and shot each other,

One was blind and the other couldn’t, see
So they chose a dummy for a referee.
A blind man went to see fair play,
A dumb man went to shout “hooray!”

A paralysed donkey passing by,
Kicked the blind man in the eye,
Knocked him through a nine inch wall,
Into a dry ditch and drowned them all,

A deaf policeman heard the noise,
And came to arrest the two dead boys,
If you don’t believe this story’s true,
Ask the blind man he saw it too!

Hope you liked it.

Happy writing

Simone

Hello,

I don’t usually do this so please indulge me on this one. As most of you may be aware I have dyslexia. I am lucky as I am on the lower end of the scale however I still struggle. Especially when I’m tired, when I have high pain levels (which is often with my medical conditions) and, most of all, when I’m under stress.

It is still not as well treated or recognised in the schools as it should be and though some are discovered early, others, like myself, were not diagnosed and identified until later on. Mine was identified when I was eighteen when I told my college tutor my mother was dyslexic. That was when the penny dropped so to speak for the education system.

Work does need to be done about helping others with this so that they don’t think they are stupid or thick and that they need to rapidly restructure and reassess the way they deal with it. I’ve found a list of celebs and famous people with dyslexia. Some of which might surprise you. I already knew about Tom Cruise, Albert Einstien and Richard Branson but I didn’t know about Jamie Oliver, James Martin Keira Knightly and so many other the other.

Dyslexia does not mean you are stupid or thick. Actually it is the opposite. With my Dyslexia my IQ is 132 however if I wasn’t dyslexic it would be 20 point higher. The average mark for IQ is 80-110 and if I was three points higher I would be at MENSA level yet I hate crosswords and Sudoku. I have no patience for them.

A person’s IQ changes throughout life and those with high IQ’s are not always socially graceful. Other people’s brilliance shows in other ways and you do not need to have an high IQ to be smart.

Just remember that if you are dyslexic you are not thick, you are not stupid and you have gifts that others may not have.

Writers that have had or had dyslexia are Agatha Christie, Hans Christian Anderson, Henry Winkler, Leonardo Da Vinci, Whoopie Goldberg and french author Gustave Flaubert to name but a few. So, yes you can be a writer even if you are dyslexic. There is nothing stoping you I did it and so can u.

Hope this has given you food for thought my fellow writers, thank you for indulging me.

Happy Writing

Simone

Hello readers,

Hope you are all enjoying the weather. Here in the UK we, for once, have sun shine.

I really Hope its lasts a while longer. I’ll keep my fingers crossed.

Today I am going to talk about the novel I have been working on for some time now, ‘Twisted Coven’, and although I will not be putting any extracts from the book on here I will however put on a few sumarys and Blurbs to wet your apitite while I finish of a few bits on it and with luck start the process of publication soon after.

First I will explain why I am reluctant to put on samples of the story.

During my researcher in to agents and publishers the vast majority of them like to recieve work that is unpublished and to some of those if the work in on a blog or website then it is published. This is not true for all just a selection of them. The main reason for this, I guess, is to ensure that the work submited to them in fact belogs to the person sending it in and not the person who saw it on the internet, changed it a little and then sent it in.

I am aware of instances where a struggling writer has put thier novel on the internet and it then recieves a publication request by a publisher who has seen it on the internet and tracked down the author. I am happy to put samples on here of my writing, but not one of the projects I am hoping to get printed. I am just worried that some one will see the book and essentially steal it. Though this is rare it is sill a concern of mine.

I have recieved excellent feedback on this from several different quarters and love the fact that those people have enjoyed reading it and that it pulled them in from an early stage.

Okay now the serious part is over I will put on a sumary of the novel for you all to have a look at.

‘Twisted Coven’ is a spine chilling tale of a doctors first year in residency as a psychitrist in a home for the criminally insane. Her first case throws questions at her from the very beginning as she attempts to identify why her first patient killed her family. After a little investigating the young doctor soon realised that her patient did not kill her family and she begins to unravel over a hundred years of murder, abuse, tourture and torment that have happened in or near the hospital resulting in the walls being stained by the blood and souls of the countless dead. She brings the wrath of the nearby town on to her head as she begins to uncover what has been going on resulting in a battle she has little chance of winning. She had to apease the spirits of those killed for them to be at peace but will she survive or will she just be another vistim.

I hope that has wetted your apetite and I will choose from my countless blurbs to give you one I think you will like. I might give a few to see which one you like best.

 

Happy Writing.

 

Simone

Hello Readers,

I am glad so many of you liked the interview I did with Rebecca Hamilton. She is such a nice person and her skills as a writer are eminence. I have to say with her busy home life I am so surprised she had time for everything else but she is publishing a sequel to Forever Girl later this year. I hope.

I am at college again and I have found I have just six classes before my exam and qualification :(. But on the plus side I am currently looking into getting my leve 3 in English Language, with a bit of luck I will be able to get it free as money is a little bit tight. Level 3 is the equivalent of an A level. I hope I can manage it while getting various books ready for print.

I have also designed my business cards and I am currently looking into doing a booklet of stories, poems and flash fictions for sale in the York Area. All the while I am trying to organise a wedding, sort out a house, find a job and chase doctors for a diagnosis for the condition that plagues me so much.

I currently have a to-do list a mile long and for all of the above things. after college i need to head home and put up some shelves, start tea and such.

I also need to get hold of Microsoft office publisher, without spending too much money. I may have a way of doing it. We’ll just wait on that one. I need to have a word with a good friend of mine.

Happy Writing

Simone

Hello

I may have an addiction. Well, more than one. It seems that, as my addiction to the dark, sumptuous, sensual velvety taste of chocolate, I seem to hold an addiction to stationary, I am a writer, I use that as my excuse, I have been good of late but yet I yearn for a new note books, a pen type I havent got or a folder with gothic pictures even though I have ones I haven’t even used yet.

My other addiction, and it is good for me, is writing I come up with ideas at a moments notice. Some are stand alone novels like ‘Mirror Image’ and ‘Dead College Girls Cry’ but as well as the ‘White Witch Saga’ trilogy it turns out we may have another book series. This time a book about vampires, not witches and demons. I am still messing around with ideas for names. So expect a few polls popping up soon.

Writing is therapeutic and I have, after several years off abstinence, taken up keeping a detailed journal. It was suggested in a meeting at Mind.

I enjoy writing, it is my entire life, well nearly, I have the love of my life still. Writings makes me smile. It makes me laugh, it makes me feel like I am someone and that I have talent. I think that was the pain talking. So it is hard work fitting it in at the moment. It is hard to consider, seriously, my life if I had no creativity with a pen or a pencil.

The wedding draws closer and the planning has gone into hyper-drive.

I smile when I, occasionally, writing something on twitter that is absolutely detailed and horrific. It makes me  smile when  post stuff and you guys look and like.

I think I am going to have a few more, small, bits of fiction for you.

I have a post on inspiration and another few posts with info and advice in there. and a few poll. So the next few days will be interesting reading.

Happy writing guys

Simone

Hello Fellow Writers

As I sit here, wondering if I should write, do some submission stuff, research or just procrastinate and mess about on face book I suddenly realise several things.

Firstly that I should be proud that my first novel is complete and ready for publication. Those of you that are copy editors my disagree and the same with the proofreader’s but from what I can do it is done. I am happy with the story, with the characters and with the subtext. Though I am tempted to add more subtext in placed, I feel that if I do I will make the story more complicated and confuse the character with information that may never come to light. There is one thing I will add which is near the end.  It is a carefully placed sentence that makes the name of the Saga make complete sense.

Secondly I have unwillingly and unknowingly contributed to the negative view of the Pagan religion, not something I want to do, being pagan myself I know how detrimental this can be. Hopefully book two and three will redeem me in the eyes of my fellow Pagans.

Thirdly, it is one hell of an achievement, people often say “I’m going to write a book and it will be great!” I actually have written a book, with several more in the making, and I have every intention to get it printed.

Being a fiction/thriller/suspense writer I feel it would be in my best interest to have an agent. I am not a business woman nor am I a lawyer. I need someone to help me deal with the business and help me deal with the paperwork and such that it involves. I have worked in the privet business  and in sales and though I was good at both I would not view them as worthy while experience for me to pitch an English author writing a story based in Washington State, Walla Walla county. I have changed the name of the town, but not the county. It makes it so much easier when dealing with distances and such.

Now is just the task of finding an agent, one I get on with and one who will have my best interests at heart. A rare thing when money is involved but let’s just hope I managed to find a good one and that the book does well. I really hope it does.