Paul Doherty
Stories (5/0)
The Crooked Door
The Crooked Door It is bright and sunny in Paddington today. The suburb is its usual buzz of noise and activity. This is where I live with my mother, in a small terrace house on a quiet side street lined by trees. Inside our home however the atmosphere is different. It is always solemn and silent inside our dismal rooms. My mother and I live alone, for I have never met my father. I do not even know what he looks like, although people quietly tell me, when I am away from my mother, that I am the spitting image of him. There are no photos of him anywhere in the house. I know this because I have looked when my mother is out shopping. She rarely goes anywhere else. My mother says he is gone and good riddance to him! My mother is a plain speaking, dour woman, straight up and down, as they say around here. However, there is one thing that she always says that I find curious, and to tell the truth, a bit creepy. She always tells me, ‘Now stay away from that crooked door, or you will end up with him.’ And she stares straight at me with her big eyes that really frighten me. ‘Now always be a good boy,’ she would say, ‘and be aware of that crooked door.’
By Paul Doherty2 years ago in Criminal
The Strange Case of Blondie Katie Moore
The Strange Case of Blondie, Katie Moore By Paul Doherty A man sat slouched at his office desk, alone, while indistinctly, through the outside window were the sounds of couples returning to their homes from their evening’s entertainment. He had been motionless for hours and even he was becoming aware of his own unwashed state. Pike was deep in thought. Near midnight, the room was dark and still, apart from the sliver of moonlight streaming down from the waning moon. The power had been turned off and he had no money to have it switched back on. If he could just solve this new case, there would be a bank roll of cash, enough to solve his problems. Some of them, anyway. All his remaining money had been spent on the items sitting on the desk in front of him. A half-empty bottle of Kentucky’s finest bourbon, a packet of Lucky Strike’s smokes and a red Zippo.
By Paul Doherty3 years ago in Criminal
The Ride of Your Life
The Ride of Your Life It was just another day in the summer of 1956 in the small Hunter Valley town of Huntlee. Some people would not even call this a town! It had a general store that sold just about everything, a garage, a repair shop, and a milk bar popular with the locals. That was Huntlee.
By Paul Doherty3 years ago in Families