David Philip Ireland
Bio
David Philip Ireland was born in Cheltenham in 1949
David has published work in music, novels and poetry.
To discover David’s back catalogue, visit: linktr.ee/davidirelandmusic
Stories (43/0)
Slow Poison - Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fourteen Cheltenham. January 14th Since Monday the snow had been falling monotonously, quietly. Blowing in great drifts, filling up the dips between the hedgerows, the wind levelling out the peaks into one smooth layer of white sugar frosting. Around the hollow of the town, tree tips peeked through the hilltop blanketing, like saplings searching for spring. But spring was nowhere in sight as the snow floated down relentlessly from the low grey cloud. In the valley the steady stream of traffic and scuffing children had turned the unique crystals that lay briefly in the streets into a leaden slush that stuck to everything, leaving hardy stains on gloves and shoes and woollen socks.
By David Philip Ireland3 years ago in Criminal
Slow Poison - Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve LUCIFER: I am angelic: wouldst thou be as I am? Lord Byron Stonehouse. January 13th He parked the Mercedes in The Woolpack car park, near the playing fields, near the hedgehog ditches. The Post Office clock was slow. The Mercedes digital never was. 3:17.
By David Philip Ireland3 years ago in Criminal
Slow Poison - Chapter Eleven
Chapter Eleven Cheltenham. January 6th ...dead more dead more dead than dead. Trim snapped the diary shut, the sound hard in the first stirrings of morning. Beyond the curtains the sky glowered black and heavy. Out in the streets the first commuters sped to work with all the enthusiasm of reluctant lemmings. Trim looked up at his blue. He moved his eyes with effort, his body pinioned to the silk like a Gulliver. His nerves were high-tension wires. He could feel his atoms shifting as the anaesthetic dissolved into his memory. He would stay in the security of the bed until the streets were quiet, noisy in another way. He would stay in the warmth until his other needs took over.
By David Philip Ireland3 years ago in Criminal
Slow Poison - Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine Bonfire days were best. Crisp October evenings with elder sparks spitting and circling in the frosty air. Fires of brushwood; brush that had been cleared for the new library, a single storied, polyurethane sealed house of stiff, new spines. Familiar faces lit up, eyes shining in the blaze of branches, a full acre of ground cleared of undergrowth and blackberry bushes and later, of every available scrap of litter. ‘Keep the home fires burning.’ they sang. And once, on the cleared ground, just before the library came, a caravan had arrived, trailing cameramen and sound girls and they had all gathered to watch the puppet show and Jim Dale and to be on the telly, faces gleaming in the light of the fire.
By David Philip Ireland3 years ago in Criminal
Slow Poison - Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight Cheltenham, December 25th Trim woke cold under the deep blue of the bedroom ceiling. His quilt lay crumpled on the carpeted floor. The steady tick of the Meyrowitz filtered through from the next room. The blue tones that dominated the bedroom gave his skin a death-like tan. He reached for the quilt and a Quaalude. Americans had such interesting pockets. The capsule brought him near to sleep, but the diary brought him back. He searched out another scribbled section, a faint pencilled scrawl, tiny words that held nightmares.
By David Philip Ireland3 years ago in Criminal
Slow Poison - Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven Stonehouse, December 15th The temperature was well below zero. No cards had been sent. The Sun and the rest had broadcast the news plainly enough in their two inch type. Even so, Becky was surprised to see so many people at the graveside; notebooks and Nikons prying into private grief, forming an outer ring of strangers who had no place there. There were mates in camphor scented suits and neighbours wives in fifties hats. The freezing wind from the canal cast a spell of silence over the mourners. They conversed in muffled whispers.
By David Philip Ireland3 years ago in Filthy