I love to write. I’ve written children’s novels, books for young adults, loads of horror and quirky stories which have found homes in magazines and on websites in the UK and in the States. Here a link to my latest fantasy novella.
Healthy Eating — It's a Balancing Act
While you may daily be bombarded with information about the latest fad diets that will supposedly transform your life, the real secret to healthy eating is variety, in other words, a balanced diet.
A Houseful of Ghosts
1982 Sam tucked his stash under the loose floorboard in the airing cupboard and backed out into his bedroom. He needed to brush his teeth and wash his hands to get rid of the smell of smoke, but his sister, Julie, was having one of her ‘long soaks’ which meant the bathroom would be off-limits for at least an hour, depending on when she had submerged herself. Meanwhile, he needed to change his jumper, because the one he was wearing stank of weed. He wasn’t sure if his parents even knew what weed smelt like, but he wasn’t going to risk it. At least they were out, probably doing the weekly shop at the new Sainsbury’s, so he hadn’t had to face them when he got home. By the time they saw him he’d be less out of it and, he hoped, smelling of the awful coal tar soap his mother had started buying. Apparently, it reminded her of being a little girl.
Horror Double Bill
Do We Need So Much CGI? I know we need CGI. Imagine Jurassic Park without it, or the latest crop of superhero films, but I’m so sick of it being over-used in horror films. For me, it creates this cold barrier against any fear factor.
Films Where Horror is Heard But Not Seen
Sometimes you just want to see the monster. Imagine King Kong with no actual Kong sighting, just the suggestion that a giant ape was causing chaos and destruction, a shadow sweeping past the top of the Empire State building, an angry roar from a creature just off-camera. No thanks. Show us the ape!
The Invisible Boy
It didn’t take Jason long to figure out he’d turned invisible overnight. When his mother walked through his bedroom that morning to open the window – as she did every morning, just to let him know he stank now that he was a teenager – she didn’t even look at him. She did look in his direction once, but her gaze went right through him, as if she was admiring the poster of Fergie from the Black Eyed Peas on the wall behind the bed. He even said ‘morning, mum,’ as she walked back across the room, which he never did. And she just kept going through the door, which she didn’t bother to close - it’s not like an invisible boy needs privacy to get dressed.
Mike was stoned the night he saw the spaceship. Dave was there too, but he was unconscious, lying in the grass on top of Primrose Hill, smouldering spliff hanging from the corner of his mouth like a mini exhaust pipe.
The pigeons are courting outside the living-room window. It is a black, sickening sound. The worst sound to wake up to. I have bought rat poison to kill them. I’m intending to mix it with some bread and other tasty tidbits and leave it on the ledge outside my bedroom window. I hope they won’t die there. I don’t fancy finding stiff, maggot-invested pigeons when I open the window to a new day.
“What happened to people feeding the pigeons at Trafalgar Square?” asked John, settling on the sofa with a fresh glass of wine.