Ok so this is my problem. I want to start writing again and I have made a start on a few new stories. I want people to let me know which one I should finish and turn into a book. Any help would be appreciated.
Here goes
1. Murder
Story
Mitchell
turned back to the car, a huge smile on his face. This is a done
deal he thought. He didn’t have any more thoughts as the tire
iron was brought down on the back of his head. He fell to the ground
unsure of what had happened. He heard the figure kneel next to him.
His head was throbbing and he couldn’t see anything. The iron came
down again and fortunately for Mitchell killed him instantly. The
blood splashed up and bits of brain and pieces of skull were
catapulted in the air as the tire iron was brought down again and
again. Each blow was delivered with more vehemence than the last and
it seemed like it would just go on, but then the assailant took two
deep breaths and stopped. They were covered in blood and the sweat
that was pouring from them was mixing with the rivulets that were
running down their face. They wiped a gloved hand across their
forehead and stood up. The tire iron was coated with blood, skull
and grey matter from Mitchells brain. The figure stooped and spat on
the corpse.
‘You
bastard, never again, you fucking bastard’ and they kicked the
corpse several times letting all the anger and frustration leave
their body.
The
figure knelt beside Mitchell’s body and searched his pockets. They
found the keys they sought and went over to the car. They unlocked
the boot and grabbed the grey holdall that had been put in there just
a few hours ago. They looked around but there was no one anywhere in
sight. They knew that the area was sometimes used by the odd frisky
teenager who would bring their latest conquest here for some
undisturbed sex, but tonight there was no one. Tuesday nights were
usually quiet. They had made sure. Careful planning was the key and
they were always careful. Having left the boot open they went over
to Mitchell’s body. They placed the holdall on the ground,
unzipped it and took out two gasoline cans and two surgical straps.
At five foot five and only 140lbs he wasn’t going to cause his
killer any trouble moving him. They wound the straps underneath each
arm pit and dragged him across the ground. As they did so more parts
of the skull came apart and smeared on the ash path. It looked like
skid marks from blood red tyres. They grabbed the body under the
arms and lifted it into the boot. Their gloves were slippery from
all the blood and it took several goes to get him in. They removed
the straps, threw the tire iron in and slowly closed the lid. They
went over to the cans of gasoline and carried them over to the car.
They placed one of the cans on the ground and took of the plastic lid
on the other. They splashed the gasoline all over the boot of the
car covering every inch. When the first can was empty the second one
was retrieved and having opened the car doors they emptied it all
over the inside of the car. There was a small amount left and this
was poured over the roof and bonnet. They knew there was still over
half a tank in the car itself. Having thrown both cans and the car
keys into the car they closed all but one door and walked back to the
holdall. After rummaging around in it their hand came out holding a
flare gun. Smiling they picked up the holdall, slung it over their
shoulders and started to walk away. After fifty yards they stopped.
Looking at the car their face broke into a smile. The flare gun was
pointed straight at the open door of the car.
‘RIP
you fucker’
The
flare flew from the pistol straight into the open door of the car and
immediately exploded. The interior of the car looked like a
barbecue. The glass exploded and sent shards flying in all
directions. The upholstery caught and turned the car into a time
bomb. He waited. A few seconds later the rest of the car ignited
and soon after the fuel tank. The explosion sent parts of the car
flying in all directions and the roof almost lifted off. There was a
secondary explosion and within a few seconds there was nothing
discernible just a ball of flame. Smiling once again, the figure
took one last look and then turned and walked away.
When
the alarm sounded he did what he did every morning. Steve hit
snooze. He knew what time it was and he didn’t need a clock to
tell him. He reckoned he had probably had no more than three hours
sleep and as he turned over in bed he laid a hand on his wife’s
shoulder.
‘ahhh
wha…. Jesus Ste your hands are freezing…..what ya….’
He
smiled and knew that Amy wouldn’t open her eyes no matter how much
of a bollocking she was giving him. She turned back over and resumed
her sleep pattern that he knew usually lasted for at least another
hour. He lay back on the pillow and closed his eyes. Another
day, another crime field
The
alarm sounded again and he had to look twice before he would believe
that another five minutes had passed.
‘So
much for that’
He
threw back the covers and eased himself out of bed. The sun was
shining and even at seven thirty-five it was already bright enough to
make him squint and close the gap in the curtains that had
mysteriously appeared overnight. He smiled and looked once more at
Amy who had started to drop back to sleep. As he was rubbing the
sleep from his eyes the phone rang, breaking the silence. Snatching
it up after the first ring he listened to the voice on the other end.
He yawned while listening and turned to make sure that the phone
hadn't reawakened Amy. He sat patiently waiting for the voice at the
end of the phone to finish its message.
"Okay
I'm on my way"
After
replacing the handset he finished rubbing his eyes then walked over
to the chair where he found the trousers he had draped the night
before. Balancing first on one leg and then the other he was able to
manoeuvre himself into the trousers without sitting back down on the
bed. He opened the wardrobe door removed a clean shirt and chose a
suitable tie. As he walked out the bedroom door he blew his wife a
kiss. As he got downstairs his personal phone rang only this time he
let it ring a few times so that he could find it. He picked up the
phone and recognising the name on the caller ID he answered it.
"Yes
I just got the call, about 10 min" He paused waiting for the
response "Okay, okay make it fifteen, and say hi to Karen and
the kids for me"
He
shook the kettle and finding there was enough water in he switched it
on. Pulling a mug from the nearby rack and placing a teabag in, he
opened the fridge and got the milk. He went to the front door and
grabbed the post of the doormat, returning to the kitchen he leafed
through the post until the kettle had boiled and he finished making
his cup of tea. The first mouthful burnt his throat and he closed his
eyes as he felt the pain the liquid caused. After adding some cold
water he drank the rest and grabbing his car keys headed for the
front door. Just before he left he turned and saw that Amy was
halfway down the stairs.
"See
you love, don't know what time, could be a late one"
She
smiled and with a nonchalant wave accepted that this meant she might
not see him until the next day.
He
walked over to the blue Mondeo that was parked on the drive. After
admiring his new car for a few seconds he opened the door and climbed
in. Before starting the ignition he opened the glove box and grabbed
one of the many CDs that were in there. This was the same routine he
carried out every morning. It was basically a lucky dip of music
because there were over 40 loose CDs in the glove box, everything
from Depeche Mode, Meatloaf and UB40 to Vangelis, Jarre and Oldfield.
He selected a CD and slid it into the stereo, wondering what he was
going to get this morning. It was Meatloaf. He waited until he had
heard the intro to bat out of hell and then started the engine.
Sgt
Collins was waiting on his doorstep and as the car pulled up he
walked slowly to the door opened it and climbed in.
"Morning
Dave"
"Is
it?"
Steve
realised Dave and his wife Karen must have had one of their
arguments. Dave had told him on many occasions of the arguments that
arose on a daily basis. Most of them revolved around the fact that
Dave had moved to Spilton. Dave's wife had been a successful mobile
hairdresser and she resented the fact that her husband had moved her
almost two hundred and fifty miles away from her regular customers.
All his promises of a new start, new clients and new opportunities
had done nothing to lighten her mood and she was constantly reminding
him of the life she had left behind. Steve knew that this was one of
the reasons Dave worked every hour he could, it wasn't that he loved
the job it was that he didn't want to be at home. Steve was lucky
because he and Amy had always lived in Spilton and he had met her at
the village Christmas fete. At the time he had not long graduated
police college and she was a primary school teacher. Now he was
sergeant and she was deputy head of Spilton junior school. Totally
different lives they both had but Steve trusted Dave with his life
and he knew the feeling was reciprocated.
The
drive was mostly done in silence and even the tones of Meatloaf
belting out Not a Dry Eye could lift Dave out of his moody silence.
Steve knew that he would open up sooner or later and that by the end
of the day he would know the in's and out's of the latest argument.
2. A story using the characters from Supernatural
Sam had been down this road many times,
in fact he had been down all roads over and over again. The only
difference this time is that he was in a foreign land. A foreign
town in a foreign land. And the worst part of all was he had no idea
how to handle it. He had fought werewolves, witches, ghouls,
spectres and a million more creatures known to man and another
million man had no idea about. But this, this was worse than that.
This was England and ever since his arrival six days ago he had heard
more strange accents and sayings than he cared to remember. From day
one it had been confusion avenue, mystery road and seriously dude
where am I street.
He recalled the last message he had
received on his cell and played it back in his head.
'Sam, Sam Winchester?'
'Hell no sorry but you must have the
wrong number'
'Well that sure as hell is a shame
because I thought this was Sam's number. Be sure to tell him I
called and that I have his brother Dean'
'Wait a minute, did you say Dean?'
'So that is you Sam' a laugh followed
by a cough were the next sounds heard before the message continued.
'Do you like travelling Sam, I am sure you do. You better do because
you are going on a journey, and I don't mean from state to state like
you hunters usually do. I am talking about overseas. You are going
to England, more specifically a place called Stonehenge. That ring a
bell Sam?'
The voice on the phone waited
patiently while the implications of the message had sunk into Sam.
'I know you are dying to ask questions
Sam and that's all good, but I know how you hunters like to trace
calls and that will never do. I don't want to spoil anything by you
trying to locate me. As long as I know where you are then your
brother is safe, understood? Now you wait a couple of days and you
will receive a letter and some money to get you to England. Be
seeing you real soon Sam'.
He had hung up the phone and stood for
several minutes taking in the contents of the message and the
implications. Someone or something had his brother and Cass had
disappeared three weeks ago. Something was going on and for once he
had no idea what. His brother had said that he was working on
something that could stop Crowley but instead he had vanished. All
calls went to dead numbers, all contact details had been wiped, even
secret ways of communicating that the brothers had long since
employed had lead to dead ends. He had even tried the lost dog
advert in the local papers as a last ditch attempt, but so far
nothing and Dean never disappeared without leaving some trace. Sam
had to admit to being worried. Dean had been to hell and back,
purgatory, Lucifers realm and yet this was something else, something
different. His ears to the ground had turned up nothing. He had
even tried contacting Bobby through a medium the brother's had helped
before but even that drew a blank.
Three days later he received a call
and was told that a letter was waiting for him in the mail office of
the town he was driving through, which happened to be Austin, Texas.
The letter, such as it was, contained a map, co-ordinates and a plane
ticket to England, more specifically London. That was it.
3. Hitman
If the clouds above him told him
anything it was that the day was going to be as unpredictable as his
moods. He had woke up that morning smiling from a soon forgotten
dream but when he had seen the news report the smile had turned into
a frown. At first he had thought that it was a joke, some kind of
April fool prank, but when he switched channels he found the same
report. A UFO had landed on the planet. In Mexico to be exact.
There were several fuzzy photos and some garbled video messages from
reporters of various races and colours, but they had all said the
same thing, usually by sweeping an arm outward and letting the camera
follow to a pointing finger. The film had not been too clear but it
was there right in front of his eyes. A UFO, but not like he had
imagined it. His love of science fiction movies had got him to
imagine that a UFO would be silver, always silver and that it would
be cylindrical in shape with no discernible doors or windows. This
thing was no shape at all, it was just angles and metal points. A
large glass fronted metal shape at that. It appeared to be balanced
on four equally positioned points. There was a yellow glow from the
base of the object and very faintly a strange humming sound could be
heard as the reporters stretched their arms to point a microphone at
the object. None had got too close and in the distance he had been
able to make out several official looking military personnel. As the
report ended he could just make out the start of a cordon being
erected. As he switched the set off he remembered all the times he
had said that he had hoped that there was life out there but he
probably wouldn't live long enough to see it, maybe he was wrong. He
could but hope.
He had dressed with a million thoughts
in his head and a million more fighting for space. After leaving the
house he proceeded to Stan's Diner where he always breakfasted when
he wasn't on assignment. His name was Jack Barnes, to everyone who
knew him. That's all they needed to know, the rest, well they would
never know and if they did, then they wouldn't be alive long enough
to tell anyone else, that was the nature of the beast. Everything
about him was ordinary to the everyday eye. He breakfasted at
nine-thirty on the dot every day. After breakfasting he usually took
a stroll down the local park or if he was feeling energetic then he
would be seen happily jogging his way past the mothers with the
screaming toddlers, the old men feeding the ducks and even the tramps
who had made their night time arrangements on the local benches. He
would jog past them all and return a smile as he listened to his mp3
player. He was the picture of the modern thirty-year old out of work
single guy. On a Friday night he would head into town and drink a
few beers while putting the world to rights with his drinking buddies
Steve Anders and Ralph Parker. They thought they knew him too,
probably thought they could tell you his entire life history, and
they could. Well they could recount what he had told them and if
they believed it why shouldn't everybody.
4. T-Red
‘Hey
you tramp, why don’t you get a job ha ha ha ha’
T-red
opened his eyes quickly and looked around the corner of the cardboard
house he had built himself. He knew how bad this area was and after
trying to sleep with one eye open most nights had instead learned to
wake very quickly and be alert at the slightest noise. Sometimes he
didn’t wake quick enough and he had the cuts and bruises to prove
it.
‘You
smelly bastard’
He
looked again and saw two of the neighbourhood ‘hard kids’ or at
least that’s what they claimed to be. The mouthy one was about
fifteen he guessed. He was dressed in designer jeans and wore a
Chelsea football shirt. He had a smartphone in one hand and was
holding it out like some sort of status symbol. The other one looked
slightly younger and was not so smartly dressed. His clothes were
almost no better than what T-red himself was wearing. The only
designer item he had was on his feet, a pair of navy blue Nike Air
trainers which ruined the overall downtrodden look. He either didn’t
have a phone or else his wasn’t of good enough quality to wave in
the air. The only thing the two seemed to have in common was the
fact that they were both wearing Raggers baseball caps. This was
the local gang and they recruited just about anyone. Their escapades
covered everything from writing graffiti to stealing from the local
shops. Most of the local shops had banned the Raggers and now they
sought enjoyment insulting people instead. He had had trouble with
them before and had even chased a few, which is why now they
preferred to shout their insults from the entry to the alley where he
slept. Close but not so close as he could catch them if he chased
them again.
He
chose to ignore them and instead looked around the alley. There had
been a few drops of rain in the night and parts of his cardboard
house needed replacing. Several other occupants had built their
living quarters along the length of the alley but these were all idly
vacant and awaiting their inhabitants. All that was present in the
alley, apart from the rubbish that had blown in of the main street
was him and the kids. Judging by the absence of anyone else he
guessed the time to be around twelve. Anton, Rabin, and the rest
would by now be strung out side of the supermarket on Wayling Street
waiting for the odd hand out or offering of charity from either
someone who was genuinely concerned with their plight or with someone
who just felt so guilty that they were living it up when there were
others who barely had one meal a week. He could see them now like
some sort of bedraggled queue for the toilet. He smiled and realised
he had lost his place. Ah well he thought must have needed the
sleep.
‘Hey
you ugly old tramp, why don’t you go home, oh yeah you don’t have
one’
This
witticism caused the two kids to break down laughing at how funny
they were and T-red moved to chase after them. The laughter stopped
almost immediately and before he was on his feet they had vanished
down the alley.
Those are the 4 choices. Please help..................lol
