I feel a mild disclaimer is required for this particular piece of fiction. I hope it’s clear that I’m parodying a particular genre and everything below was written with tongue firmly in cheek. Nonetheless I can’t ignore the fact that this particular genre is quite popular commercially so I reserve the right to adopt ‘Professor Peter Turnbottle’, without even a hint irony, as the hero of a novel that I may write in a shameless attempt to secure an agent and book deal in the future.
Professor Peter Turnbottle examined the letter again. It made no more sense upon the second reading.
“Contained in this note is a warning
That a day full of peril is dawning
I advise you leave now
Or I fail to see how
You won’t draw your last breath this morning.” Continue reading The Limerick Code
“We’re definitely lost,” Sally groaned as the path yielded yet more seemingly identical trees, “Let’s just go back.”
“We’re not lost,” argued Matt irritably, “if we keep following this path, we’ll definitely get to the Manor” Continue reading To The Manor, Forlorn
The vulgar chime of the shop door announced her arrival. Darren didn’t know her name. He knew that she worked in a nearby office. He knew also that she always bought a chicken and sweetcorn sandwich and a Diet Coke for lunch. And he knew she had a nice smile. He was certain about that. Continue reading In Convenience
Rufus could barely keep his eyes open, but unhealthy levels of caffeine and sugar were just about preventing him from falling asleep at his desk.
He took another gulp of his coffee. It was cold. Did he have time to make another?
He looked at the screen. He felt like he had been staring at the monitor for a long time now without actually writing anything. He glanced at the clock in the bottom right hand corner. Continue reading The Deadline
Chantelle knew she had what it took to be a pop star. It was, as she explained to the young producer, indeed as she’d explained to anyone who would listen to her, a lifelong dream. Whether at nineteen years of age it was yet possible for Chantelle to have a ‘lifelong dream’ was perhaps a matter for debate, particularly given that until the age of fourteen, Chantelle had actually wanted to be a vet. When she discovered the grades she would need to achieve she conceded that ambition had always been a little fanciful. Continue reading The Pre-Audition
Pete looked incredulously at the winged serpenty-lions gushing water into the fountain. According to his online guide, they were supposed to be dragons. But the heads were definitely lions. And the bodies were snakes. What do you get when you cross a lion and a snake? Not a bloody dragon that’s for sure. He was prepared to concede that the wings were dragonesque, but the sculptor had clearly not been watching the same films as Pete when it came to fire-breathing reptiles. Continue reading La Fontaine
“You’ve got to live life to the full,” Pete declared, through mouthfuls of chicken and leek pie, “you could get hit by a bus tomorrow and kablam! Then it’s all over before you even realise what’s happened!”
Alice knew her brother meant well, though he could have chosen a better example to support his argument. The village of Nettleton hadn’t had a bus service in over twenty years, so the odds of being hit by one seemed fairly minimal. Heavy-duty agricultural vehicles were another matter entirely… Continue reading Alice Accepts Her Fate
Bromfell saw the village in the distance. It was a welcome sight. He had ridden for many hours and both he and his beloved horse, Alcris, were tired.
He patted the stallion’s neck.
“Not far now old friend,” he said, “soon we shall find respite.”
The smell of freshly harvested hops served as an extra impetus, for he yearned to quench his thirst, and the local ale had a fine reputation.
He tugged the reigns and Alcris picked up the pace. Before long they were entering the outskirts of the village.
A young man was walking by the road. Bromfell hailed him.
“Hello lad,” he said warmly, “is there an inn nearby, where I and my companion may quench our thirst?”
The youth gave Bromfell a startled look.
“Listen mate I don’t want any trouble, ” he said. Continue reading All Hail King Bromfell
“Ok Bazza, it’s your round!”
Barry looked at the three-quarters-full pint of warmish lager in front of him.
“I don’t really want another drink to be honest,” he replied.
“But it’s your round!” Toby remonstrated, aghast at his friend’s poor comprehension of pub etiquette.
Barry took a sip of his tepid pilsner, and felt the recriminations of his belligerent bloated belly. Continue reading Making Merry
The familiar melody was growing louder. Robbie was excited. So often he was forced to listen to those chimes come and go, leaving him with nothing more than a bitter taste of disappointment.
“We’ve got ice-lollies in the freezer,” his mum would say.
Robbie always protested. The ice-cream van sold rocket lollies… Continue reading Robbie Wants A Rocket