So, our computer died. Woke up one morning and it just wouldn't turn on. Now I know why my dad kept telling me to back everything up to disc. Rooky mistake, Rhease, rooky mistake.
Fortunately, I was printing the pages as I went and so have only really lost about 6 pages of work. That said ...
FUCK. Fuckadoodle fuckadiddly fuckadwadly diddlefuckfuck.
Sunday 18 February 2007
Wednesday 24 January 2007
Grrrrrr Ruff
Well, I think the first chapter is fine now. I'm gonna take it up to my Creative Writing class this afternoon and see what they think.
I was going to do loads of writing yesterday, but ended up not being able to for various reasons.
Then, I was going to do loads this morning, and fluffle bum stopped me. Now I can't get back into the flow. I'm sure I'll just get back into it and he'll wake up again and scream and scream and scream ...
Poop
I was going to do loads of writing yesterday, but ended up not being able to for various reasons.
Then, I was going to do loads this morning, and fluffle bum stopped me. Now I can't get back into the flow. I'm sure I'll just get back into it and he'll wake up again and scream and scream and scream ...
Poop
Monday 22 January 2007
Thank you Mrs B
For everything.
I've fixed Alice now. She's a much more sympathetic character now (I had among her first words in the novel: "fuck", "bastard" and "premature ejaculators").
And you rock :)
hughughughug
I've fixed Alice now. She's a much more sympathetic character now (I had among her first words in the novel: "fuck", "bastard" and "premature ejaculators").
And you rock :)
hughughughug
Friday 19 January 2007
More juicy Frank-evilness
"She had a nice figure, even under the cold utilitarianism of her uniform. From his position on the floor he could look at her face and enjoy how her breasts framed it like a firm, nipples-visible smile."
'aint he a charmer?!!!
lol
Enjoyed writing today. Had a lot of fun
'aint he a charmer?!!!
lol
Enjoyed writing today. Had a lot of fun
Thursday 18 January 2007
Any hoodle
Right, now the excitement of Miss Snark's Happy Hooker Crapometer is over I can get back to work.
I had some criticism on the hook but the only thing people have said about the first 750 words is regards to the Devonian word. Oh well. I'd already twiddled the opening and removed that anyway. The rhythm was all off and I figured it wasn't an important detail at that point of the story.
Miss Snark herself had no editorial comments at all, which was nice. Very encouraging actually. So, back to work. Finish the final redraft ... (me hopes) and start sending it off.
Well, what am I doing here, then? Wasting precious baby-free time! lol
I had some criticism on the hook but the only thing people have said about the first 750 words is regards to the Devonian word. Oh well. I'd already twiddled the opening and removed that anyway. The rhythm was all off and I figured it wasn't an important detail at that point of the story.
Miss Snark herself had no editorial comments at all, which was nice. Very encouraging actually. So, back to work. Finish the final redraft ... (me hopes) and start sending it off.
Well, what am I doing here, then? Wasting precious baby-free time! lol
Friday 12 January 2007
Beginning:
It was three days since Frank emptied the last of the poison into his mother’s food.
She still looked shaky but her colour was starting to come back. It had not worked as well as he had hoped.
He saw his mug of coffee tilt as she lowered it to the table.
"Carefull. It’ll take you ages to clean that out of the carpet.”
He stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray and shook his head. He really should have left home years ago. Too late to change things now.
“I wish you wouldn’t do that in here,” his mum said, glaring at the assortment of cogs and gears arranged neatly on the floor in front of him. He shrugged.
“I’m using newspaper.”
She tutted and went back to the kitchen to get her own drink. “I saw Helen at the surgery again, today.” Her voice sounded shrill, even from the other room.
“Yes?” Frank said, carefully greasing a metal disc and slotting it into place.
“She wants to do more tests.”
“What for?”
“I don’t know; something to do with heavy metals. I’m feeling much better, though. I think I’m over the worst of it.
Frank nodded. She certainly was. He looked up at the clock and sighed. Helen would be at the bingo hall for another half hour.
The light of the television flickered in the corner of his eye as his mum trawled through the channels. He began to place the discarded ends of rubber tubing into a tidy pile beside his untouched coffee as he stripped the ends of the cables and wired the device.
“Oh, before I forget,” his mum said. Frank paused, holding the ends of the wires away from each other. He breathed deeply. “Margaret called earlier. She wanted to know if you could pop over and take a look at her pipes.”
“Mrs Joskin?”
“Yes, that’s right. She wouldn’t have asked, but her husband won’t be back for another month yet. I think his ship is still somewhere near Gibraltar.”
Frank nodded. Her timing could not have been better.
“All right, mum. I’ll just finish this. Did she say what was wrong?”
“I think it’s that kitchen pipe again. I keep telling her not to pour old fat down the sink but she won’t listen.”
Frank put the last pieces in place and got to his feet.
“I hope you’re not going to leave that there.”
He rolled his eyes. “I was going to put it in the cellar. Could you get the door for me?”
She followed him out into the hallway and opened the cellar door. A fist of cold air rushed up to meet them. “It’s freezing down there.”
“I told you last week: the heater’s broken.”
“Oh, yes. Can you get me a bottle of wine? Helen said she might come over after bingo.”
“Sure,” he said. She usually did.
He went down the stairs and placed the device on the shelf. It looked snug, sandwiched between two pyramids of nitro-glycerine packed jam jars.
Frank very carefully set the clock.
He paused by the wine rack on his way out and picked his mum’s favourite bottle. As he climbed the stairs he slipped off the marigolds and left them dangling like a pair of deformed hands over the rail. He shut the door behind him and took the bottle through to his mum.
“I’ll be as quick as I can,” he said, giving her a peck on the cheek. Up close he could see the coarse hairs that sprouted randomly on her chin. The perfume she wore was sweet and cloying. He was glad he would not be home when Helen arrived.
She looked up at him from the corkscrew and smiled. “See you later.”
“Sure.” He glanced around as he took his coat off the hook and nodded to himself. “Bye, then.”
“Bye.”
He stepped out onto the dark street and lit a cigarette. It was a chilly night but at least the rain had stopped. The tarmac shimmered gently under the harsh sodium glare of the streetlights. In the distance a dog barked.
He began to walk slowly along the pavement. Dyllion Crescent was close to a mile from end to end and formed a crooked smile on the side of the quietly industrial town. The road encircled a small wood and it was this that provided Frank’s shortcut to Mrs Joskin’s house. He passed between a pair of houses and through a gap in the hedge. A muddy path had been worn through the woods and Frank followed this briefly into the dark shadows of the trees.
With the confidence of a lifetime resident, he veered off the path and began to wind his way deeper into the wood until he came to a timber shack.
The heavy padlock yielded easily to Frank’s key. Once inside, he closed the door again, drew the black out curtain and lit the lamp.
He smiled as he lifted the hood.
Doctor Chang had a suitably uncomprehending look of terror on her face. This was the first time he had let her see her captor.
He pulled the blade out of the body on the floor and held it up for her to see. Along its shaft was the congealed redness of its previous lodging and as he brought it closer to her she began to shake her head.
Her nostrils were wide open and furiously snorting air. The thick gag over her mouth allowed nothing through. Her eyes were wide, desperately imploring him to release her.
He set the knife down on the small wooden stool in front of her and sat down on the cadaver. Its face was contorted in an expression of agony and the slash at its throat gaped widely for the doctor to see.
Frank lit the candle that was on the stool and began to heat the end of the blade. Blood was trickling down from the doctor’s wrists where she had opened up the sores, struggling to pull her hands free again.
“No one has noticed you’re gone yet, you know,” he said, conversationally. “Everyone thinks you’re off to the Maldives.” He held the glowing end of the knife out to her. “To be honest, we’re glad to have you off our backs for a while. No one likes to have a bad report on their record.”
He pushed the blade through the bare skin of her leg. It sunk deeply into the tissue at the bottom of her calf muscle and her body convulsed with the sudden pain.
He withdrew and began heating it over the candle again.
“I saw your last report on me. Do you really think it’s the stress of the work environment?”
He pushed it through her other leg. Her scream, muffled by the gag, sounded exhausted.
“I’ve tried very hard to fit in, you know,” he said, holding it back over the candle. “I thought I’d succeeded. Obviously not.”
The blade hissed slightly as he pressed it to her belly. He did not push it deeply this time. He got to his feet as he held the blunt blade against the soft flesh above her navel.
“I like working there,” he said. “I find the environment stimulating. If I possessed the slightest ounce of compassion I wouldn’t do what I do. I know all about emotions, Chang. I’ve studied them up close. They’re overrated, trust me.”
He scraped the blade down until it fitted into the crease of her navel. Her gasp of pain was obvious, despite the gag. If her hands had not been roped to the roof beams and her feet bound to the iron ring set in the concrete floor, she would have doubled over.
There was no room for her to manoeuvre and so Frank’s knife was unhindered in its progression through her abdomen. Dark blood mingled with intestinal fluids and all colour drained from her face.
“It’ll take you a while to die that way,” he said. He picked up a longer knife from the floor and scraped it down the centre of her body.
This blade was surprisingly sharp. Blood blossomed fast along the length of the deep cut. He watched the pulse at the base of her throat beating its rapid, terrified rhythm and smiled.
“This should help.”
He sank the knife into her throat, slowly easing it open.
She gurgled one last time as the gag fell to the floor.
He untied the corpse and stacked it in the corner with the other cadavers. He slipped out of his dirty clothes, put on a clean overall and picked up his tool kit.
It only took him another ten minutes to get to Mrs Joskin’s house. Her husband was fond of gnomes and Frank was glad of the patio lights to illuminate a clear path through their garden.
He crouched to stub his cigarette out on a tackily wee red hat before stepping up to the door.
She was a vision in her floral nightdress, long dark hair bound up in a wet towel. With the light of the hallway behind her, Frank could just make out the shape of her ageing yet ample bosom as she turned to let him in. He shuddered.
“Ah, Frank, thanks for coming. I’m sorry to be a nuisance.”
“That’s okay, Mrs Joskin. Always happy to help.”
Her eyes reflected a sudden burst of light and Frank was thrown forward by a deafening detonation. Pieces of masonry smashed through windows and a roofing tile shattered across the road behind him.
Mrs Joskin screamed, but the ringing in his ears was all that Frank could hear.
He looked at his watch.
Bang on time.
She still looked shaky but her colour was starting to come back. It had not worked as well as he had hoped.
He saw his mug of coffee tilt as she lowered it to the table.
"Carefull. It’ll take you ages to clean that out of the carpet.”
He stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray and shook his head. He really should have left home years ago. Too late to change things now.
“I wish you wouldn’t do that in here,” his mum said, glaring at the assortment of cogs and gears arranged neatly on the floor in front of him. He shrugged.
“I’m using newspaper.”
She tutted and went back to the kitchen to get her own drink. “I saw Helen at the surgery again, today.” Her voice sounded shrill, even from the other room.
“Yes?” Frank said, carefully greasing a metal disc and slotting it into place.
“She wants to do more tests.”
“What for?”
“I don’t know; something to do with heavy metals. I’m feeling much better, though. I think I’m over the worst of it.
Frank nodded. She certainly was. He looked up at the clock and sighed. Helen would be at the bingo hall for another half hour.
The light of the television flickered in the corner of his eye as his mum trawled through the channels. He began to place the discarded ends of rubber tubing into a tidy pile beside his untouched coffee as he stripped the ends of the cables and wired the device.
“Oh, before I forget,” his mum said. Frank paused, holding the ends of the wires away from each other. He breathed deeply. “Margaret called earlier. She wanted to know if you could pop over and take a look at her pipes.”
“Mrs Joskin?”
“Yes, that’s right. She wouldn’t have asked, but her husband won’t be back for another month yet. I think his ship is still somewhere near Gibraltar.”
Frank nodded. Her timing could not have been better.
“All right, mum. I’ll just finish this. Did she say what was wrong?”
“I think it’s that kitchen pipe again. I keep telling her not to pour old fat down the sink but she won’t listen.”
Frank put the last pieces in place and got to his feet.
“I hope you’re not going to leave that there.”
He rolled his eyes. “I was going to put it in the cellar. Could you get the door for me?”
She followed him out into the hallway and opened the cellar door. A fist of cold air rushed up to meet them. “It’s freezing down there.”
“I told you last week: the heater’s broken.”
“Oh, yes. Can you get me a bottle of wine? Helen said she might come over after bingo.”
“Sure,” he said. She usually did.
He went down the stairs and placed the device on the shelf. It looked snug, sandwiched between two pyramids of nitro-glycerine packed jam jars.
Frank very carefully set the clock.
He paused by the wine rack on his way out and picked his mum’s favourite bottle. As he climbed the stairs he slipped off the marigolds and left them dangling like a pair of deformed hands over the rail. He shut the door behind him and took the bottle through to his mum.
“I’ll be as quick as I can,” he said, giving her a peck on the cheek. Up close he could see the coarse hairs that sprouted randomly on her chin. The perfume she wore was sweet and cloying. He was glad he would not be home when Helen arrived.
She looked up at him from the corkscrew and smiled. “See you later.”
“Sure.” He glanced around as he took his coat off the hook and nodded to himself. “Bye, then.”
“Bye.”
He stepped out onto the dark street and lit a cigarette. It was a chilly night but at least the rain had stopped. The tarmac shimmered gently under the harsh sodium glare of the streetlights. In the distance a dog barked.
He began to walk slowly along the pavement. Dyllion Crescent was close to a mile from end to end and formed a crooked smile on the side of the quietly industrial town. The road encircled a small wood and it was this that provided Frank’s shortcut to Mrs Joskin’s house. He passed between a pair of houses and through a gap in the hedge. A muddy path had been worn through the woods and Frank followed this briefly into the dark shadows of the trees.
With the confidence of a lifetime resident, he veered off the path and began to wind his way deeper into the wood until he came to a timber shack.
The heavy padlock yielded easily to Frank’s key. Once inside, he closed the door again, drew the black out curtain and lit the lamp.
He smiled as he lifted the hood.
Doctor Chang had a suitably uncomprehending look of terror on her face. This was the first time he had let her see her captor.
He pulled the blade out of the body on the floor and held it up for her to see. Along its shaft was the congealed redness of its previous lodging and as he brought it closer to her she began to shake her head.
Her nostrils were wide open and furiously snorting air. The thick gag over her mouth allowed nothing through. Her eyes were wide, desperately imploring him to release her.
He set the knife down on the small wooden stool in front of her and sat down on the cadaver. Its face was contorted in an expression of agony and the slash at its throat gaped widely for the doctor to see.
Frank lit the candle that was on the stool and began to heat the end of the blade. Blood was trickling down from the doctor’s wrists where she had opened up the sores, struggling to pull her hands free again.
“No one has noticed you’re gone yet, you know,” he said, conversationally. “Everyone thinks you’re off to the Maldives.” He held the glowing end of the knife out to her. “To be honest, we’re glad to have you off our backs for a while. No one likes to have a bad report on their record.”
He pushed the blade through the bare skin of her leg. It sunk deeply into the tissue at the bottom of her calf muscle and her body convulsed with the sudden pain.
He withdrew and began heating it over the candle again.
“I saw your last report on me. Do you really think it’s the stress of the work environment?”
He pushed it through her other leg. Her scream, muffled by the gag, sounded exhausted.
“I’ve tried very hard to fit in, you know,” he said, holding it back over the candle. “I thought I’d succeeded. Obviously not.”
The blade hissed slightly as he pressed it to her belly. He did not push it deeply this time. He got to his feet as he held the blunt blade against the soft flesh above her navel.
“I like working there,” he said. “I find the environment stimulating. If I possessed the slightest ounce of compassion I wouldn’t do what I do. I know all about emotions, Chang. I’ve studied them up close. They’re overrated, trust me.”
He scraped the blade down until it fitted into the crease of her navel. Her gasp of pain was obvious, despite the gag. If her hands had not been roped to the roof beams and her feet bound to the iron ring set in the concrete floor, she would have doubled over.
There was no room for her to manoeuvre and so Frank’s knife was unhindered in its progression through her abdomen. Dark blood mingled with intestinal fluids and all colour drained from her face.
“It’ll take you a while to die that way,” he said. He picked up a longer knife from the floor and scraped it down the centre of her body.
This blade was surprisingly sharp. Blood blossomed fast along the length of the deep cut. He watched the pulse at the base of her throat beating its rapid, terrified rhythm and smiled.
“This should help.”
He sank the knife into her throat, slowly easing it open.
She gurgled one last time as the gag fell to the floor.
He untied the corpse and stacked it in the corner with the other cadavers. He slipped out of his dirty clothes, put on a clean overall and picked up his tool kit.
It only took him another ten minutes to get to Mrs Joskin’s house. Her husband was fond of gnomes and Frank was glad of the patio lights to illuminate a clear path through their garden.
He crouched to stub his cigarette out on a tackily wee red hat before stepping up to the door.
She was a vision in her floral nightdress, long dark hair bound up in a wet towel. With the light of the hallway behind her, Frank could just make out the shape of her ageing yet ample bosom as she turned to let him in. He shuddered.
“Ah, Frank, thanks for coming. I’m sorry to be a nuisance.”
“That’s okay, Mrs Joskin. Always happy to help.”
Her eyes reflected a sudden burst of light and Frank was thrown forward by a deafening detonation. Pieces of masonry smashed through windows and a roofing tile shattered across the road behind him.
Mrs Joskin screamed, but the ringing in his ears was all that Frank could hear.
He looked at his watch.
Bang on time.
Tuesday 9 January 2007
Yay
I did a little more work this morning. Not as much as I wanted because baby woke up again at 9am. Poop.
But still, maybe I'll be able to do more later - after swimming and x-rays!
But still, maybe I'll be able to do more later - after swimming and x-rays!
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