Raymond G. Taylor
Bio
Author based in Kent, England. A writer of fictional short stories in a wide range of genres, he has been a non-fiction writer since the 1980s. Non-fiction subjects include art, history, technology, business, law, and the human condition.
Achievements (2)
Stories (267/0)
Long dark night
If I’d been a character in a detective story, they’d call this the long dark night of the soul. Drawing deep from the amber leaf, I knew why. I took in another lungful, tasting like a motorman's glove. I laughed at myself, thinking up a Chandler-Marlowe quote at a time like this.
By Raymond G. Taylor4 months ago in Fiction
Work to do
Trapped by her steely stare, which seemed to last an age, I felt the need to run and hide. Instead, I reached for the soft pack and tapped out an untipped. Pressing the fibrous roll between my lips I realised, too late, how stagey this must have looked.
By Raymond G. Taylor4 months ago in Fiction
Chain of evidence
By the time I got back to the house, there was a patrol car waiting. A uniform stepped out of the passenger side and, confirming my ID, asked for my car keys. I prised them apart from my extensive collection and handed them over. As the patrolman drove off in my car, his buddy following him, a third car screeched to a halt outside.
By Raymond G. Taylor4 months ago in Fiction
Ten minutes to mask a murder
In ten minutes, the squad would arrive. I heaved the 'murder weapon', a huge hunk of ice, into the storm drain. As it hit with a smash, the steady stream of meltwater started to push the pieces away, along with the red streaks that had covered one side. I hid the cocaine in the trunk.
By Raymond G. Taylor4 months ago in Fiction
- Top Story - February 2024
Telltale crimson trailTop Story - February 2024
I'd seen gray snow, I'd seen brown, mushy snow on the highway. I'd seen yellow snow too, but this was the first time I had seen pink snow. The sight of it turned my stomach. The crimson stain had grown into a shadow, an outline, like an island. The spatter from the blow had left a telltale bloody trail leading away from the gaping wound in the victim's head.
By Raymond G. Taylor4 months ago in Fiction
Passed a weary time
Water, water, everywhere, Nor any drop to drink. It is an ancient mariner, I. For down into the sea I went. Through no choice of my own, I came to be abandoned, misplaced, left alone on a bench. The good south wind did blow behind and, lifting me in its arms, tossed me first onto the ground, then skipping and jumping to the Bankside. Leaping above the flood wall, I came down into the fretting flow and began my voyage in earnest.
By Raymond G. Taylor4 months ago in Fiction
Christ has set us free
"You put that whip down, or y'all be sorry." "I'll be sorry? Not as sorry as you will, boy!" With that, young Freeland raised the horsewhip and threw a mighty wave of the whip's end at me. Flinching, I felt the sting of a cut across my shoulder. Before the man could raise his arm again for a second blow, I was upon him and knocked him clean off his feet, as my fist drove into his jaw.
By Raymond G. Taylor5 months ago in Fiction