Excert 1, Prologue: The Attic. posted 2009-12-29
It was the second half term & he had worked hard & things had gone exceptionally well academically speaking, but deep inside he felt a little empty. Although he had topped almost all of the subjects covered, there was something missing.
There had been a certain amount of pressure on him to follow in his father’s footsteps. However most of the pressure was self inflicted.
It was true enough, that he was extremely interested in the subject as a whole, but somehow it didn’t seem to fit his vocation in life. -Well, not completely anyway. Therefore, without being able to explain it, he had developed some doubt regarding his choice of career, but he had kept it to himself, ignored it. After careful consideration he had decided that it was probably down to too much work.
Anyway, the plan was to take it easy for the week, in the hope that it might allow him to recharge his batteries. He would feel much better after the break, he was sure of it.
So, pottering around in the garden & perhaps clearing out the garage, for his father (at a push), was all that he intended to do. Sometimes however his mother, without warning, had other plans that he wished to avoid. It wasn’t as if he was lazy or anything either. It was just that it tended to be her junk that required chucking out most of the time! He soon learnt that this particular occasion was no exception to the rule. His mother asked him to clear some old boxes & it wasn’t until Tuesday morning that he reluctantly climbed the rickety wooden ladder to the attic.
A couple of strip lights, that were suspended from the rafters on chains, lit the roof space adequately enough, as he hit the switch. Funnily enough there were no signs of cobb webs as he had anticipated, but the cardboard boxes that had lay there neglected smelt musty.
There was little of interest for him amongst the items that were boxed, except for old toys that triggered memories of his childhood that he had long forgotten. Otherwise, there was cutlery, clocks, glasses, the usual junk.
He had been going through the motions of completing the chore when in a darkened corner he discovered something. He had already moved many of the lighter boxes down to the hallway & had returned to the attic when under some lampshades he found a small locked chest.
Written by T.R.Vinnicombe (aka Dr. Peter Hodgkins) ©2009 all rights reserved & none of the contents of this site can be copied or used in any way without the written consent of the author. Published online by MicroHotStar 2009.
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NOTES from the Author:
I wrote this initial book during an extremely turbulent period in my life, where I was tested to the limit psychologically; During this time I crossed swords with a number of very nasty people, with unethical approaches to life for no apparent reason other than the personal enjoyment of seeing someone else suffer. It was also a case of power being abused. Luckily I was aided by an angel that came to the rescue through a very unexpected route, but, as a result of this, I urge you to thread with caution & to perhaps not throw away a card when a complete stranger hands it to you & assures you that he can help you out of any mess, especially when this is re-enforced by others in the room after the man has left! Thankfully I kept the card, even though I proclaimed at the time that “I never need any help & I don’t get into messes that I cannot get out of myself” – that’s all I’ll say at this point. Well I was wrong & two years later I rang the number on the card & the rest is a complete story worthy of a Hollywood blockbuster! In itself the story that unfolded could be a very interesting read indeed, although I am not brave enough to disclose it at this point in time. Maybe this will change in the future - we will have to see?? Anyway the book kind of mirrors this time in my life, which was a complex series of maneuvers; Therefore writing became my therapy & I will admit, unlike many before me, that it was a release to absolutely base many of the bad characters in this book on real nasty pieces of work that I actually encountered. The great thing, unlike in real life, was that I was then able to kill them off in horrible ways, which was my revenge. Now- not many writers, amateur or professional, will openly admit that, will they? On top of this the main character in this book became an extension of my personality in many ways; a kind of alter ego. However many of Stark’s attributes are characteristics that I only wish I had when I don’t. I understand from my experiences of writing that most writers base a lot of their main characters on themselves in most instances or on attributes that they wish they had! Finally, nearly all the places & a lot of the events in this book are based on real places & events, that I, or friends or associates of mine, had visited or encountered. In other words, much of this book, apart from the murders & violence, is based on twisted truth, seen through a half cracked mirror.
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