Writer Wednesday: Week Fifty-seven

Welcome to Week Fifty-seven of Writer Wednesday. I've been having issues with my WiFi, so this is going up late.

This week's featured author is another that I've recently met in my new Facebook group (Supporting Indies, Reaching Readers). He was also conveniently featured on S.L. Baron's Author Interview blog series, so links were easy for me to grab, considering my internet's been crap. Anyway, Week Fifty-seven's featured author is Jay Veloso Batista. You can find out more about him and his works below at the following links.


Jay's Facebook Author Page

Jay's Twitter

Jay's Website

Jay's Amazon Author Page


Books:

Thorfinn and the Witches Curse (The Forerunner Saga Book 1)

The Vardoger Boy (Forerunner Series Book 2)


Thanks for joining me this week for Writer Wednesday. I'll be back next week, as I have a couple more authors to feature before Writer Wednesdays fade out of existence. Remember, support indie authors and please leave reviews for their work.

Short Story Saturday: Alabama Dog Rot: A Creepy-Colin Escapade by Guest Author Paul Skelton

Alabama Dog Rot

(A Creepy-Colin Escapade) 

by Paul Skelton

   Desperate Dan (otherwise known as Daniel Eastwood) worked at Lather & Sons timber yard. He drove a bright red Ford Ranger and lived opposite the Gilby family, where sixteen-year-old Creepy-Colin lived. Colin had recently had his first sexual encounter with a neighbour, seventeen-year-old Jessica Wilson, and was now developing an unhealthy crush on thirty-five-year-old Janette Simpson, Desperate Dan’s live-in girlfriend. Colin employed various surveillance devices to witness her more private moments, when opportunity allowed. Opportunities were somewhat limited, as Colin was an apprentice at Lather's, and he was driven to work each day by Desperate Dan. His only opportunities occurred when Desperate Dan went to the pub and came home late at night, and Janette would (whilst he was out) perform her pampering activities, which, among other things, included shaving some very personal areas.

* * *

   'Gonna be away this weekend, Col'. I'm goin' to see a dog from a breeder down near the New Forest,' Desperate Dan confided on their way to the timber yard one morning. 'If you fancy earning some extra cash, I've got some gardening jobs 'round my place want doin' while I'm gone.'

   'Gardening’s not my thing, Mr. Eastwood.'

   'Okay, son, that's a shame. Janette can probably manage on her own, anyway.'

  Creepy-Colin had imagined Desperate Dan and Janette would be away for the weekend together. The fact that he had been mistaken in this assumption changed the incentives considerably. Creepy-Colin’s interest was now aroused, in more ways than one.

   'B-b-but, I could do with some extra cash actually, Mr. Eastwood, and if Janette’s there, she would be able to show me what wants doing and how to do it.' Colin then blushed, his pimple-ridden, oily skin became clammy and sweaty. 'I-I-I don't mean it,' (he did), 'I mean the work, er, the jobs, I mean.'

   'Hahaha, you crack me up, Colin, you really do. Hah hah. Yeh, she'll give you a hand.'

   WOW! thought Colin.

   'And I'll pay you thirty quid. There's a lawn to mow and a bit of hedge trimming,'

  'Trimming?' Colin nearly flipped, mentally picturing Janettes electric shaver in action.

   'And the weeds need a good seeing to.'

  Creepy-Colin needed “seeing to”, and when they reached the timber yard, he leapt from the Ford Ranger and made a dash for the Lather’s trade counter building where the toilets were situated.

   'You okay, son?' Desperate Dan called out as Colin sprinted across the yard to the toilets to deal with an uncomfortable problem, requiring instant gratification.

* * *

   Creepy-Colin saw Desperate Dan drive off at seven o'clock the following Saturday morning, and he decided to call on Janette a good half an hour earlier than planned.

   It's the early bird that catches the worm. He thought to himself, sniggering as he drenched himself in his Father’s favourite Diesel aftershave.

   Janette Simpson opened the door to Colin, clad in a short pink silk robe, which left little to the imagination. Creepy-Colin drooled.

   'Oh! Hi, Colin, you're early. Keen to get down to it, are you?'

   'Oh, God, yeh . . . ' He gulped, his eyes bulging. 'I mean, er, the gardening. Yeh, I like to make an early start.'

   'I'm impressed, Colin.' She smiled. 'I haven't showered yet, and I need to make myself decent, I do apologise.'

   Don't apologise. Thought Colin.

   'So, why don't you go through and fix us both a nice coffee while I get ready? The coffee’s in the percolator, the mugs are on the drainer, and, oh, there's some cream in the fridge.'

   Cream? Oh God! Colin thought, his head swimming, catching a glimpse of naked breast and nipple as Janette turned to go upstairs. Following her through the house, Creepy-Colin got another eyeful, “upskirt”, as she ascended the stairs.

* * *

   Janette sat down to her coffee, dressed in tight-fitting shorts and a loose, plaid shirt tied into a bow 'round her midriff. When they had finished the coffee, they set about the various tasks. Colin made much of “needing help” in order to be close to her as often as possible and peek down her open-necked shirt, noting that, on this hot day, Janette was bra-less. Colin worked hard though, mainly to impress Janette. They chatted amiably throughout the day, Colin trying to fit in as many compliments as possible, and Janette revealing that she may move out to get her own place soon, as she didn't want to share the house with a dog. She thought she would carry on seeing Desperate Dan but didn't imagine the relationship “going anywhere”. Eventually, the work was done, and Janette suggested that Creepy-Colin should take a shower before he went home.

   Colin undressed and stepped into the shower, hoping against hope . . .

   'You don't mind sharing, do you?' Janette purred as she slithered, naked, against Colin’s wet body in the hot shower.

   The fantasy ended abruptly when he heard Janette asking, 'have you come yet', and giggling from just outside of the door. He realised that she had been spying on him and what he was doing in the shower.

   She entered the bathroom fully clothed.

   'Sorry, Colin, I couldn't resist.' She sniggered. 'It's just that you've been so obvious all day. Really creepy, with those compliments, y'know? Bit pervy, Colin. Now hurry up, sort yourself out and get decent. I'm going out.'

   Creepy-Colin got decent and went home, deflated.

* * *

   Next day, Sunday, Colin got a call from Desperate Dan at around three in the afternoon, asking him to come over to collect his thirty pounds.

   'Ah, come in, Colin, and meet Lola.' Dan was beaming as they walked through to the kitchen where a grey and white puppy sat dozily on a dog blanket, 'There's Lola. She's half Greyhound, half Bearded Collie, only eleven weeks old. What do you think?'

   'Nice, Mr. Eastwood. She's a Lurcher then?'

   'That's right, Colin, she's a rough-coated Brindle dog. You know a bit about dogs then?'

   'Yeh, a bit. How much did you pay for her?'

   'Eh, don't worry. Here's your thirty quid.' Desperate Dan winked and handed over the cash. 'If you must know, I paid a hundred and fifty, not bad, eh?'

   'She's got some nasty sores, Mr. Eastwood.' Creepy-Colin was inspecting the dog closely.

   'Yeh, the breeder gave me some cream for those; look.' Dan picked up a jar from the Formica kitchen table and handed it to Colin who studied it meticulously. Colin then got his smartphone out and started browsing the internet.

   'What is it, Col'?' asked Dan.

   'Hang on a mo' . . . , she's very quiet, looks knackered. Has she vomited at all?'

   'Well, yeh she's tired, it was a long trip for her cooped up in my cab. She did puke a bit when we got back, probably travel-sickness.'

   'Appetite? Is she eating?'

   'Well, I put a bowl of food for her out as soon as we got back. She hasn't touched it yet, but . . .'

   'Alabama Dog Rot!'

   'Alabama what rot? Dog rot?'

   'Yep, reckon so,' Creepy-Colin said confidently. 'There's been no real clinical research, but the first cases affected Greyhounds in Alabama U.S.A. in the eighties. In the UK there's been about a hundred cases, most of them around the New Forest. The disease attacks the blood vessels, the kidneys, and affects renal movement. It's hard to treat and almost always fatal. Look, Mr. Eastwood.'

   Desperate Dan looked at the screen on Colin's smartphone, and he went deathly pale. He gulped a few times and then started ranting.

   'Right, I'll get her to a vet tomorrow. Meanwhile, I'm getting onto that bloody breeder. I'm gonna fuckin' kill 'im!'

   'No time for that, we've gotta act fast, Mr. Eastwood. If she's vomiting and not eating, it's advanced. The skin sores are already breaking. She's literally rotting away.'

   'What can we do, Colin?' Dan wailed and then started sobbing.

   'Not sure, but you stay here, have a drink or something. I'm off to get some stuff I've got, might help slow it down. Then tomorrow you can get down the vet's.'

   Creepy-Colin dashed home, and once in his room, started fetching bottles of various liquids from under his bed. He then started mixing them together, carefully examining the results each time he added something to the concoction. Finally, he filled some syringes with the formula and rushed back to Desperate Dan.

* * *

   Dan didn't show up at work for the next five days, he was taking some unpaid leave to attend to Lola. The following Saturday, Creepy-Colin was supping a pint of Coors that Desperate Dan had bought for him at the Rose and Crown public house.

   'Cheers, Col.' Dan raised his glass of Newcastle Brown. 'Yep, thanks to you, mate, Lola’s okay. The vet didn't have a scooby-doo, just offered me more skin cream. So I got her home and hoped for the best. I did administer another injection, as you suggested. Now, she's eating me out of house and home, and energy? Blimey, I've never known a dog like it. You should see how fast she can run when I take her down the park.'

   'She's grown a lot, hasn't she?' Colin was stroking Lola under the pub table.

   'Yeh, you wouldn't believe it's the same dog, would you? Drink up, Colin, I'll get you another.'

   After two more drinks they left the pub, and Lola, loping beside them, was now the size of a mature Great Dane. She stood thirty inches in height and weighed in at nearly one hundred and sixty pounds. Desperate Dan should have been worried.

* * *

   Creepy-Colin didn't fire up his computer to spy on Janette Simpson that night, as he knew she had moved out. He would miss her. He got ready for bed and settled down to look up breeds of dog, in particular, larger breeds. He was concerned by Lola’s sudden growth spurt, even if Daniel Eastwood wasn't. Then his mobile rang.

   'Hello?'

   'Hi, Colin, it's Janette. Look, I know it's late, but I want to apologise for making fun of you last weekend. I want to make it up to you. I've got my own flat, now, all to myself, and I'm home alone wearing my silk robe, the one you saw me in last week. Nothing underneath, Colin.' She spoke softly and sensuously. 'Come over, babe, and do a bit of gardening with me, yeh?'

   Colin stared at his phone, open-mouthed, instantly getting a hard-on, and momentarily couldn't think what to say. Then he decided to follow his instincts.   'What kind of fool do you take me for, Janette? You can't do gardening in a flat.  There's no garden. I wasn't born yesterday. Huh!' And with that, he terminated the call without waiting for an answer. Then he turned his phone off.

   Janette stared at her phone and threw it across the room in temper. Then she slid out of her robe, feeling rejected, and resorted to pleasuring herself. She was too far away from Desperate Dan’s house to hear the howling and screaming. But Creepy-Colin wasn't, and on hearing the commotion, he peeked outside. He saw Lola on Desperate Dan’s front lawn tearing him to pieces, throwing him around like a rag-doll. Creepy Colin wasn't the only neighbour dialing “999” at that point.

   Lola’s body lay dead on the front lawn, and to Colin, looked even bigger than he noticed at the pub earlier. The hide had large slits and splits in it, as if the animal had literally grown faster on the inside than the skin on the outside could keep up with. It had taken several gunshots from the Police vet before Lola went down, and Paramedics arrived to retrieve what was left of Desperate Dan.

   'You Colin Gilby?' the Police Constable asked, and Colin nodded in affirmation. 'And you work with Mr. Eastwood, I believe. Do you know anything about his dog?'

   'Bought Lola a few days ago in the New Forest. She got sick, and he took it to the vet. Alabama Dog Rot, I think. They gave him some cream.' Colin shrugged.' That's all I know.'

   'Thanks, son, never heard of Alabama Dog Rot. Vet should know what it is.'

* * *

THE END

Writer Wednesday: Week Fifty-six

Hey, everyone! Welcome to Writer Wednesday: Week Fifty-six. This week's author is a new acquaintance, whom I met in my Facebook Group (Supporting Indies, Reaching Readers). Let's get to it, and see who this author is.

Week Fifty-Six's featured author is L. L. Thomsen. She writes Epic Fantasy and has a decent amount of available works on Amazon. You can find out more about L. L. Thomsen and her works at the following links below.


L. L. Thomsen's Facebook Author Page

L. L. Thomsen's Twitter

L. L. Thomsen's Website

L. L. Thomsen's Amazon Author Page


Books:

The Missing Shield, Part 1 (The Veil Keepers Quest)

A Change of Rules: The Missing Shield, Episode 1

Unexpected Bargain: The Missing Shield, Episode 2

A Perspective of Death: The Missing Shield, Episode 3

Running the Gauntlet: The Missing Shield, Episode 4

Notions of Risk: The Missing Shield, Episode 5

The Final Card: The Missing Shield, Episode 6

The Lure of an Ancient Fable: The Missing Shield, Episode 7

All in a Day's Work: The Missing Shield, Episode 8



Thanks for joining me this week! I hope to see you all again next week. Remember to support indie authors by purchasing their work from legitimate distributors and always leave reviews for their work.

Short Story Saturday: Rabid Dog: A Creepy-Colin Escapade by Guest Author Paul Skelton

Rabid Dog

(A Creepy- Colin escapade)

“I'm  a sick dog, a slavering canine,

My brains inflamed, come and be mine,

I got it viral, I got me a fever,

Come and taste my saliva, girrrrrl.”

“Coz, I'm a dog, a rabid dog, I'm a dog, a rabid dog,

I'm a dyin' breed doncha wanna snog,

With a rabid dog, a rabid dog like me?”

   The punk rock song blasted out from Jessica Wilson's boombox.

  'What vile lyrics, Jessica, who are they Slipknot?' Mrs. Sandra Wilson enquired of her sixteen-year-old daughter.

  'Uh? Mum, you're so lame. Slipknot? God, they're, like, so pre-historic,' Jessica spat back.

  'They sound a bit like them. Sorry, I'm sure. So you're out with Colin Gilby tonight, are you?'

   'Yeh , and?'

   'Just so's I know who you're with and . . .'

  'Yeh? Well, like, we're gonna go down the graveyard and have sex with dead bodies, coz Col’s well into necky feel ya,' Jessica said sarcastically. 'But I'll be in before eleven.'

  'Haha, it's necrophilia if you must take the piss, daughter of mine. Where are you really off to?'

  'Actually, Mum,' now more friendly, 'Col's got tickets for “Rabid Dog” at the Wagons. Says they include a backstage meet and greet with the band after.' Clearly Jessica was excited.

  'Well, watch that Colin, he gives me the creeps. Pete reckons it was him took some of my lingerie off the washing line.'

  'Mum! I'm not stupid, Colin is a creep. He won't get my knickers off. Pah! I'm just stringing him along to get gig tickets, ain't I? Huh!'

   'And this meet and greet business, Jess, what's that about? In my day, it was . . .'

   'I know, I know what it was in your day mother. That's how you met my real Dad, blah blah blah. So, I was a Rock n' Roll baby, so what? Col thinks it's cool, being Ralph Stocker’s illegitimate daughter. I ain't ashamed.'

   Mrs. Wilson blushed. 'No, what I meant was . . .'

  'It just means you get to, like, meet 'em, chat with 'em, maybe have a drink. I'll be with others, Mum. It's proper safe, everyone does it. God, you're so . . . so . . . oh I dunno . . . pot calling kettle black.'

   'Ok. Well, I'm not going to say you were an accident. It's just that I would rather have had you in other circumstances, that's all, and I'm just concerned that there might be drugs. I love you, Jess, and I want you to be careful and be safe, that's all.'

   'Yeh, whatever,' yawning, 'I'll be safe, and I'll be in by midnight.'

* * *

   'So, girrl, liked our show, did ya?' Connor Bryant, lead singer with Rabid Dog leered.

   'Oh yeh, like, WOW!' gushed Jessica.

  'Connor, what tuning do you use on “Snotty Little Creep”?' enquired Creepy-Colin, but he was ignored. 

   'Wanna come in the dressing room for a little vodka?' Connor continued, drooling slightly.

   'I'm up for it,' said Creepy-Colin, eagerly.

  'Not you, creep. He means me,' Jessica sneered, followed by a “no, not you” look from Connor.

   'What about “us”, Jess?' Creepy-Colin sounded hurt, and his lower lip quivered.

  'There's no us, Col. I just wanted tickets and him,' gesturing at Connor, 'he's lush, and you're not, pimple face! Now, piss off.'

   Creepy-Colin walked off sheepishly, back to the function room bar, whilst Connor led Jessica into a dressing room and locked the door. It was quite basic, the only furniture being two plastic chairs, a full-length mirror and a massive bean bag, which was heavily stained and discoloured. Connor produced a bottle of cheap vodka and two hotel bathroom type tumblers. Having both slugged their vodkas, Connor, salivating heavily, poured out more and put his arm 'round Jessica's waist.

   'Gotta question for ya,' he slurred. He seemed hot, almost feverish.

   'Okay.'

   'Listen, “Got the liquor out the back of my car, take a drink take off your bra,

Got the hots and gettin' hotter, lemme get inside your knickers”,'  Connor sang a line from one of his songs softly into Jessica’s ear.

   Jessica replied softly into his ear. 'You can't get my bra or knickers off,' she cooed.

   'Oh, ok, babe. Ya can't blame a bloke for tryin', eh? Just love what I'm seein', girrrl, and . . .' Connor started to say, but Jessica interrupted.

  'Because I haven't got any on. None. No bra, no knickers, wanna party?' she purred provocatively.

   They “partied” on the filthy bean bag, and Jessica just about made it home by midnight in the back of the Rabid Dog tour van.

* * *

    The first thing Pete (Jessica’s step-dad) noticed were the love bites on Jessica’s neck, on the Sunday morning after the show, as she emerged from the bathroom.

    'Bloody Hell, Jess, you got a bit heavy with Colin last night, didn't you?'

    'What?' she replied irritably.

    'Bit hungover, are we? The love bites on your neck, Jess. You're only sixteen.'

    Jessica checked her neck in the hallway mirror. 'It wasn't Creepy-Colin. I was just neckin' with, like, a real man.'

   'Well, you'd better put on a roll-neck or something, your Mother will go ballistic. One of the band, was it?' He smiled.

   'Yeh!' she said in a triumphant tone. 'Connor Bryant, the lead singer. He's lush, I mean like, so lush. Got his number an' stuff. Yeh. Like he'll get me in any gigs for free, and he said he wants to see more of me, coz I'm the prettiest girl he's ever, like, ever seen.'

   Jessica got dressed and put on a roll-neck sweater. She joined her step-dad and younger step-brother, Jacob, in the kitchen.

   'Coffee, Jess?' Pete called out as she sat at the dining table.

   'Nah. Just juice, please. Where's Mum?'

   'Gone 'round to help Creepy-Colin’s Mum with Church flowers. So did you do him then?' Jacob sniggered. Jessica ignored him, but he persisted. 'Did you 'ave him, Jess? Ol' Creepy-Colin? Haha, you'll catch pimples. He's well diseased he is. Haha.'

   'Shut up, Jacob, you plank,' she spat back at him.

   'Jacob! Go to the garage, get the mower out and do the lawn, now!'

   'Uh? Oh, Ok, Dad,' Jacob responded truculently and went outside via the back door, which he slammed violently.

   'Here's your juice, Jessica. Er, look, did you have sex with this Bryant guy? I won't be mad at you. We know you're on the pill.' Pete spoke evenly.

   'What? That's gross. I mean, what?'

  'Ok, so you did then.' Pete sighed. 'Like Mother, like daughter. Look, Jess, there's something you need to know about him. For a start, he looks young but he's thirty-two and married, at least in theory, and . . .'

   'So? That's only what Twitter says.' Jessica was defiant.

  'And, I was going to go on to say, he's Ralph Stocker's son, which makes you, my little groupie, his flipping half-sister! We'd better not tell your Mother.'

   Pete turned his laptop 'round so Jessica could see the aging Ralph Stocker with his arm 'round Connor Bryant. The text read: “Rocker Ralph proud of his 'Rabid Son', Connor Bryant, frontman of award-winning ska-punk's 'Rabid Dog'.”

  Jessica ran to the downstairs toilet and threw up with violent retching and coughing. Later she deleted a contact in her mobile phone and cried her eyes out.

* * *

“I'm drooling over your rancid corpse,

My brains are exploding my head is sore,

I got it bad, the fever's high,

Gonna have you before I die, girrrrrl.”

“Coz, I'm a dog, a rabid dog, I'm a dog, a rabid dog,

I'm a dyin' breed doncha wanna snog,

With a rabid dog, a rabid dog like me?”

* * *

   Colin Gilby listened to, and simultaneously read, the lyrics with growing concern. It was about eight weeks since the Rabid Dog gig, and Jessica had been ill for the last couple of days. Colin’s Mother, who had visited the Wilson's that day was most concerned.

   'They're getting the Doctor out if she's not better in the next couple of days,' she said to her son.

   Colin tapped furiously on his laptop, and upon finding what he was looking for, slammed it shut. He rummaged around in a drawer, produced some items and thrust them into his leather jacket. He grabbed the jacket, put it on, tucked his laptop under his arm and stormed out of the house.

   'What is it, Colin, you don't look well?' Mrs. Wilson gasped as she opened her front door to Colin.

   'Look, I know you don't like me, Mrs. Wilson, sometimes I don't like myself, but I think I know what's wrong with Jess. LOOK!' He opened the laptop and showed her the screen. Mrs. Wilson fainted, collapsing at Colin’s feet.

   'Sorry, Mrs. Wilson, gotta see her now. while there's still time,' he said as he stepped over her body, raced up the stairs and burst into Jessica’s bedroom.

   'What the . . . ? Colin?' Pete was standing over Jessica’s convulsing body with a glass of water as Colin went over to her.

   'Don't give her water, Mr. Wilson. Look at this,' he said as he handed his laptop to the stunned step-father.

  Jessica was panting, salivating and babbling incoherently her skin drenched in perspiration. She was clearly delirious.

   'Rabies? Fucking Rabies?' Pete Wilson was ranting, his eyes bulging and glued to the screen on the laptop. 'I'll get the Doctor,' he finally bleated weakly.

   'No time for that. Help me out,' said Colin. 'Got any whiskey, vodka or such?'

   'Er . . . yeh-yeh. I'll get it for you.' In a daze Pete fetched a bottle of vodka.

   'Right!' said Colin with authority. 'It maybe too late, but wash her neck where those welts are with the vodka, ok?'

   'Er . . . yeh, right. What are you gonna do?' At that moment, Jacob walked past the bedroom and peered in.

   'Huh, Creepy-Colin. Like dying bodies do ya, acne face?'

   In perfect unison, Pete Wilson and Colin looked up and yelled, 'PISS OFF!’

   ‘Do something useful and call the NHS, get a Doctor, tell ‘em it’s Rabies,' Pete added.

   Jacob rushed off to dial “101”. Pete turned to Colin. 'What are you doing?'

  'This!' said Colin as he stabbed Jessica’s thigh with an epi-pen, he then produced a syringe and plunged that into her leg as well.

  'Epi-pen, I have allergies,' he gasped breathlessly, holding it up so Pete could see it. 'And an injection I made up. Basically anti-flu inoculation and liquid paracetamol, I use it on my pet python, Boris.'

   The Doctor arrived thirty minutes later, examined Jessica, who was now lifeless, and prepared himself to share some bad news with the family waiting fearfully downstairs. Colin was still in Jessica’s room with the Doctor, having described his home-made treatment to him.

  Suddenly Jessica sat up, vomited and stared at Colin. Then she relaxed, and in a hoarse whisper said, 'Thank you, Colin.'

* * *

   Jessica's seventeenth birthday party, six weeks later, was more “Rag ‘n’ Bone Man” than “Rabid Dog”. Colin had been invited, and he appeared to be the centre of attention. Connor Bryant had recently died of a “mystery illness”, according to his publicist. The Wilsons and Gilbys knew better!

Writer Wednesday: Week Fifty-five

Hey, everyone! Welcome to Week Fifty-five of Writer Wednesday.


This week's featured author is Jason Greenfield. Jason is the founder of One Million Project among many other projects. I met him on the site Write On as I did many of the other authors I've featured on this series. You can now found him on Wattpad to check out his works; you can also find him and his works at the following links below.


Jason Greenfield's Facebook Author Page

The Unseen Man's Facebook Page

Mythlands - The Mythical Creatures' Facebook Page

Forever Torn Facebook Page

Jason Greenfield's Wattpad Profile

Jason Greenfield's Amazon Author Page


Books:

Forever Torn

The Unseen Man

Mad Dog and The Englishman (Ethereals Book 1)

The Dashing Blade (Lords of Hellfire Book 1)

Bite Size Stories

Bite Size Stories Volume 2

Bite Size Stories Volume 3

Bite Size Stories Volume 4



That's it for this week. I have a few more weeks worth of authors left, so I'll be back again next week with another Writer Wednesday. Please support indie authors by purchasing their works legitimately and leaving them reviews. Thanks!

Short Story Saturday: Dog Fight: A Creepy-Colin Escapade by Guest Author Paul Skelton

Dog Fight

(A Creepy-Colin Escapade)

Written by

Paul Skelton

   Billy Chandler, who was nearly twelve years old, loved his toy. It was ace. During the day, Billy was home alone for the school holidays with only Benji, the families Yorkshire Terrier for company. Benji did not share Billy’s love of the toy. In fact, he was terrified of it, especially when it was used to chase him 'round the garden.

  Billy’s Mum, Lorraine, worked in the local bookies in the afternoons, and Dad, Terence, worked the twilight shift (2pm – 10pm) at a local warehouse. Both parents worked six days a week, with only Sundays off. Lorraine finished at 5:30pm each day and had Billy fed, watered and in bed by 7:30pm, giving her a two-hour window to go to her bedroom and play with her favourite toy, which was ace.

   Creepy-Colin was a fifteen-year-old nerd who lived next door. He was very clever and into all sorts of high tech gadgetry, including a sophisticated surveillance system set up to watch Lorraine when she played with her favourite toy. What he did not know was that Billy with his toy could spy on Creepy-Colin. Billy often wondered what Creepy-Colin was looking at on his computer screen, but judging by his antics, he reckoned it must be very exciting. Only Lorraine was oblivious to all this spying, whilst lost in ecstasy and pleasure, sprawled naked on her divan bed.

  The neighbours on the other side were the Caswells, a family of six adults, all benefit and alcohol dependant. Their pet dog, Tyson, was a vicious pit bull, who regularly attacked other people's pets when he was on the loose.

   One afternoon, Billy was playing in his upstairs bedroom, whilst Creepy-Colin next door was setting up his telescope to watch Mrs. Wilson (two doors down) come out to do some topless sunbathing. This was inferior entertainment compared with Lorraine’s activities but had its moments when Mrs. Wilson applied sun-tan lotion to her chest area.

   Billy was just turning his attention from his Tonka-Toy truck to his X-Box when there was a loud and urgent banging on the front door, accompanied by shouting through the letterbox.

   'BILLY, BILLY! Let me in quick! Your dog's in trouble. He's being attacked in your back garden. LET ME IN! I CAN HELP, BILLY!' It was Creepy-Colin.

   Billy jumped up and shot a glance from his bedroom window to the back garden below. He could not see Benji, but he could see Tyson, who had come through a hole in the fence. Alarmed, he ran down to let Creepy-Colin in.

   'Billy, them Caswells kicked a hole in your fence, which let their pit bull into your garden. Benji's hiding behind your Dad’s shed. Saw it all through my telescope. We gotta do something, Billy.'

   'We can't fight Tyson, Colin. He'll kill us.'

   'No, not with our bare hands we can't. Get your drone, Billy, and I'll get some knives and stuff from your kitchen. I've got some duck tape, we can rig up your drone to scare Tyson off, okay? See you up in your room, Billy, in two minutes.'

   Billy went and got out his favourite, ace toy: his drone. It was a sizeable one fitted with a camera. It was also fully charged. Within minutes, Creepy-Colin was in Billy’s room, equipping the drone with sharp kitchen knives, attached with the duck tape. He'd even found some loose craft knife blades to stick onto the rotors. Billy, meanwhile, had opened the bedroom windows wide. He saw a bloodied Benji being chased from behind his Dad's garden shed by a snarling, slavering Tyson.

   'QUICK, COLIN,' he yelled.

   'It's ready, Billy,' Creepy-Colin affirmed. 'Now, gimme the remote controls, and hold your drone over the window ledge. I'll fly it, coz it's a bit heavier than you're used to with all these knives on it.'

    Billy did as he was asked.

    The drone lurched drunkenly through the open window into the garden. Benji was now perched up on top of an old coal bunker, quaking and yelping in fear. The rather heavier pit bull stood in front of the bunker, glaring up at Benji and growling with malicious intent. Tyson lacked Benji’s agility and therefore did not succeed in his attempts to jump up onto the bunker himself, which bought Billy and Creepy-Colin valuable time.

   Creepy-Colin lost no time in mastering control of the drone, and in moments, had it circling above Tyson’s head. As Tyson attempted to rear up on his hind legs to assault the drone, one of the knives slashed one of his front paws, leaving a nasty gash. The stricken pit bull fell back heavily, howling in pain just as Creepy-Colin steered the whirling machine in for a second attack. This time the blades caught Tyson in the face and head. One ear was sliced through, an eyeball vacated its socket and Tysons jaw was severely torn. The whimpering hound retreated to the Caswell’s back garden, leaving a scarlet trail behind him. Once he was on the other side of the fence, he hid under a garden table to lick his wounds.

   Billy ran downstairs to bring Benji inside for a drink of water and some rest. He and Creepy-Colin then found some unused paving slabs to block the hole in the fence, they even thought to use Billy’s Dad’s garden hose to wash away Tyson’s trail of blood.

* * *

   Billy’s Mum arrived home just after 5:30pm.

   'Hi, Billy, been up to much?' she called as she entered the front doorway.

   'Just playing with my drone, boring day really.' Billy yawned.

   Billy was fed, watered, and sent to bed at 7:30pm, but he did not sleep. Once he'd heard his mother close her bedroom door, he got out of bed, put his dressing gown on and sneaked downstairs. Creepy-Colin’s mother and father were out at the local pub when Billy entered the house. Soon Billy was in Creepy-Colin’s room watching the action on his computer screen, he'd never seen his mother quite like this before.

   'Told you, Billy, ace, innit?'

   'Blimey,' said Billy. 'Is it naughty of us, doing this?'

   'Nah. Fun though, innit? I call it neighbourhood watch. It's just spying really.'

   'Yeh? Like James Bond and stuff?'

  'Yeh, Billy, like that. And remember, Billy, if it hadn't been for me doing my bit of spying, we might not have saved Benji. So no telling, right, Billy-boy?'

   'No. No telling,' Billy reassured him. Then giggling and pointing at the image of his mother on the screen in front of them, Billy said, 'And mum's the word.'

   'Ace,' said Creepy-Colin, high fiving Billy’s palm.

Writer Wednesday: Week Fifty-four

Hey, everyone! How's it going? Welcome to Week Fifty-four of Writer Wednesday. This week I have another awesome author I met on the now defunct site, Write On. I met a lot of fantastic authors on that site, and I miss what I had found there.

Writer Wednesday: Week Fifty-four's featured author is Jessica Minor. Jessica hasn't published on sale sites such as Amazon, yet, but her books can be found on Wattpad. Find out more about Jessica and her works at the following links below.


Jessica Minor's Twitter

Jessica Minor's Wattpad


Thanks for joining me this week. I hope to see you all again next week. Remember to leave reviews for indie authors, and in Jessica's case comment and vote if you enjoy her work.