Tag Archives: writing

It was just over an hour since he had watched the Zeppelin descend in a roar of flames and Valentine was sitting, deep in thought, in his favourite armchair. By every calculation the day had been an absolute success; Sturridge … Continue reading →

“We’re lost now, aren’t we?” I said with a sigh. Ever since we’d exited the square with the inanimate soldiers the buildings seemed to have crowded ever closer together and the paths had narrowed until the apartment block that had … Continue reading →

I stood with my back pressed up against the wall of the palazzo for a full five minutes before my heart rate returned to something like normal. All the way across the narrow strip of open ground that lay between … Continue reading →

They came upon the barracks of the Explorers Club in a clearing in the midst of a dense forest. The site covered a few acres and was encircled by a slender, razor sharp wire fence which glinted dangerously in the … Continue reading →

“Sturridge?” said the old woman. “No dear, I’m afraid he’s gone.” “Long gone,” added the old man wistfully. “Bugger,” I muttered.

The chosen location for the peace talks the following morning was the shell of a bombed out house in the Marksville suburbs. Sitting as it did almost directly halfway between the city walls and the Viborg lines it had presumably … Continue reading →

It was some time after midnight before Michael and I returned to the bar of The Hotel Majestic, still no closer to striking inspiration in terms of finding something to barter for our inter-dimensional travel drive repairs. I was undoubtedly … Continue reading →

For the next hour or so it proved quite impossible to leave the square. Fitz may have melted away as soon as his speech was concluded but, with all patrols cancelled, the crowd in general showed no inclination to move … Continue reading →