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Excerpt from my recently completed title ‘Remedy’

‘Forgive me for I have sinned. It’s been more than a week since my last script. I find myself revisiting old ways and defying new means that I know I should adopt. ‘But why’ I hear the angels ask. Because the honey is sweet enough to detract from the pain of the sting.

On the seventh day, when work had been completed I sat in the garden and watched her pick fruit. She was delicate, serene, perfect and I knew she was mine. For when I had slept she had been formed for me. She was bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh and she had now been returned to me. I stared transfixed unable to shift my gaze, as if counting the hairs on her head. She seemed perfectly ignorant of my attention, probably as this was a normal occurrence to her. Beauty such as hers spoke volumes and was true genius. Better even, as it needed no explanation. My inner demon rose and hungered for her.

For everything there is a season, a time for every activity on this untamed raucous planet. This was not my choice but what had been pre-ordained, I was simply the messenger. Messengers from age old times would either receive an undeserved amount of gratitude or an equally uncalled for amount of blame. This was the condition of being the messenger.

Time stood still while she plucked strawberries as red as blood from the branches. Eventually her basket had filled with lustrous fruit, and she made her way out of the garden but not before giving me a glance with those devilish dark eyes. I stood and with little cerebral control discretely followed her out of the garden, followed her to the supermarket and was finally led by the mesmerizing sway of her short yellow dress to her apartment. She had remained ignorant of my presence, which somehow excited me. As the front door closed behind her I noticed the sun had long since set, although it had not impacted my world that had been lit by a bright light from a spectacular creature. A creature who I would visit again. Visit again, very soon.

Judas, April 10th’

 

                  ‘Hey sweety, what are you reading so intently?’ asked Remy, startling him as he became aware of her presence.

                  ‘When did you get back?’ Tom asked turning his attention to the stunning auburn haired lawyer, ‘you know this is my favourite skirt,’ he said sliding his hand down from the small of her back to rest on her pert bum that was elegantly filled her fitted pencil skirt.

                  ‘Maybe, but you’re going to have to wait,’ she teased, momentarily remaining in his embrace.

Remedy Austin at birth, or Remy Austin today, was well known for her lust for success. A typical work hard, but play harder girl she had not lost a case to date, and had no intention of changing the habit of her working career. This case had challenged her. The mounting evidence against her client left little to the imagination, completely confirming his guilt and Remy was struggling to fashion him a get out of jail free card. The client in question, Paul Thorpe, was standing trial for slaughtering a father of two, who worked at the local care home where Paul had resided for most of his teenage life. The murdering son-of-a-bitch deserved to rot in hell and surprisingly this was a fact that Remy agreed with. Having strongly believed hell wasn’t hers to create, the remnants of the idealistic girl within her hoped freedom would bring him some sort of hell. The thought was quickly quashed by her inner cynic that had seen Paul display subtle psychopathic tendencies through various interviews over the preceding days. Growing up watching her mother beaten to the ground by her biological father, her intention had always been to defend the innocent and put the people she now called clients behind bars. An honourable task indeed, it wouldn’t have brought her fame or fortune, and perhaps she was no guiltier than any of us for changing our morals when the tide turns to our favour.

                  ‘Interesting blog. Why call himself Judas?’ Remy asked turning her attention Tom’s laptop and the blog that had held his attention captive for several minutes.

                  ‘I would have thought the inner workings of psychotics would be more your field of expertise,’ Tom answered uneasily.

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Aesthesia: Chapter 5 (3)

13:07 Monday 3rd October, 2005, Maya

Given the chauvinistic nature of our client, Riley and I had decided to work the inside together for this one. The inside man is the member of our crew who’s in charge of the magic. The secret to a good magic show is getting into character, and I was sure Walter and Riley would pull off their roles of Derek and John seamlessly. The morning had gone to plan – like clockwork our client had showed up at the gentleman’s club, where Walter had casually introduced Riley as his wayward nephew, who had apparently made a good living for himself from ‘investments’. When our client heard that investments came from horses, namely gambling, and that Riley apparently had inside tips he was predictably keen for some of the action. Walter had feigned that he couldn’t remember the tip that he had been given, after Riley had needed to leave for work. It was now time to find the name of a wining horse. After a ten minute period on hold to bookies, somebody with a hasty tone finally answered,

‘Thanks for calling, what can I help you with today,’ replied the Northern female voice.

‘I was wondering if you could tell me what won the last race?’ I asked.

‘Which course is that for?’

‘Anywhere,’ I replied.

‘Ummm, Maggie’s Golden Nugget at 1pm, on….’

‘Thanks,’ I replied, putting the phone down.

I sent Walter a text with the horses name – after which he would claim to have remembered the name of the horse. Our client, Albert, would naturally want to check if the horse won. There was our in.

‘What’s a nice place like this doing with a girl like you?’ Riley asked joining my table in our local pub.

‘Take it went well?’

‘You know me, I’m a real team player,’ Riley coyly replied.

‘Your round,’ I said, finishing off the last few drops of martini in my glass.

A few hours and rounds later we made our way back to the flat to find Matt working on the finer details of the con.

’So you found a place,’ I said looking over the building plans and estate agent brochures that Matt was studiously examining.

‘A shell of a place, the inside will need to be prepped,’ Matt answered, ‘Estate agents can’t shift it, as it’s a bit rough around the edges. I offered to do a free plastering service as part of a council rejuvenation scheme. We have it for the next week.’

‘Ok, but let’s make it good. How long?’

‘Couple of days, if I can get enough bodies,’ Matt said, clearly getting slightly irritated by the all the demands and little praise. Typical man.

Walter, a welcome disruption, had just arrived back from the gentleman’s club where he had been roping in our client.

‘Well, I think we have him hooked enough to give him the convincer,’ Walter informed us.

‘Perfect, can you set a meet up with Riley the day after tomorrow?’

Walter nodded

‘Questions?, I asked to which nobody replied. ‘Right let’s do it.’

The first part of any good trick, is proving the magic is real. To prove this to our clients, we treat them to the convincer. To prove the con is real, the client is given money. It’s the only part of the con where the client is in pocket if he/she walks away. Fortunately, our clients are greedy, so they all come back for the final show.

‘Matt can we work out costs, if you have some time?’ I asked. We didn’t have a lot of cash available for expenses, which meant we may have to run a few short cons to generate cash.

‘Sure, we can go through it now,’ Matt replied, ‘building wise we are covered……..’

No, no, not now. Matt and my surroundings faded as my life again became shrouded by confusion. I was sat at a dining table, looking at a black tile to my right when a red head came in. As beautiful as she was, she had con artist written all over her. I hadn’t been paying particular attention to what she had been saying, but she finished with ‘So what was it you wanted to ask me, babe?’ The mind I was occupying felt full of questions, but unsure how to ask any of them. Why not just ask, I felt myself advising. I didn’t have time for this. I needed to get back to my World, not this fairytale land. In a blink I was back and thankfully Matt had not noticed my absence.

‘So what do you think?’ he asked within seconds of my return.

‘Could we just run through that last bit again?’

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The way parking tickets should be issued!

IMG_2898

 

 

I didn’t draw this one, but I thought it was a cool idea!

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Pretty Doctors

A visit to the hospital (09/08/13)

A visit to the hospital (09/08/13)

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