Category Archives: short stories

The Suspect And Other Tales By K Morris Available In The (UK) Amazon Kindle Store for £0.77

Earlier this morning I posted regarding the release of my latest collection of short stories, The Suspect And Other Tales. At that time The Suspect was only available on amazon.com. I am pleased to report that The Suspect And Other Tales can now be found on amazon.co.uk by visiting the following link, http://www.amazon.co.uk/Suspect-other-tales-K-Morris-ebook/dp/B00PKPTQ0U/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1415948675&sr=1-1&keywords=The+Suspect+and+other+tales. To purchase The Suspect or to download a free sample please go to the above link.

 

Many thanks

 

Kevin

The Suspect And Other Tales By K Morris Available In The Kindle Store

My latest collection of short stories, The Suspect And Other Tales is available for purchase in the Amazon Kindle Store.

The Suspect comprises a collection of Tales of the unexpected, ranging from stories of crime and vengeance through to ghostly happenings in an ancient mansion. The stories originally appeared on this blog, newauthoronline.com.

To purchase The Suspect And Other Tales or download a free sample please visit http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00PKPTQ0U. At time of writing The Suspect And Other Tales does not show up on amazon.co.uk. However, in a few hours time the anthology should be available on both amazon.com and amazon.co.uk. I hope you enjoy reading The Suspect And Other Tales. If you purchase The Suspect or any of my other books I would appreciate it if you would please consider leaving a review.

 

Many thanks

 

Kevin

 

Strange Dream

“They will put the people in cells. Put them to sleep and suck out their brains. They will start with the elderly and disabled then move on to the rest.

The people will feel a sense of freedom when they are asleep but, on waking will have buttons where they once had eyes to operate them. They will feel only a dull headache”.

 

This was, so far as I am able to remember it the dream from which I awoke some 10 minutes ago. I was listening to a narrator expounding his conspiracy theory? Regarding a take-over of the world by an unnamed group, aliens perhaps?

I don’t believe in conspiracy theories (they have caused much suffering. Witness, for example the Nazi’s mad view that Jews are intent on taking over the globe through the manipulation of the financial markets, which lead the Third Reich to murder at least 6 million innocent people of Jewish origin). I remember, in my dream inwardly questioning why the unnamed entity would want to take over the world and wondering whether I was listening to the ravings of a lunatic.

As pointed out above I do not believe in conspiracies. Given this fact I am at a loss to explain my dream. On going to sleep I have no recollection of pondering on the atrocities of the Hitler regime (“they will start with the disabled and elderly first”) has echoes of the Action T-4 Programme under which people with disabilities where sterilised and/or murdered, the Programme being the precursor to the mass killing, in gas chambers of Jews and other groups, including gypsies deemed undesirable by the regime).

In conclusion I do not know why I dreamed thus. However my dreaming was so vivid that I wished to record it before it vanished in the cold light of day.

Aquarium

A fish in an aquarium.

Tank brightly eluiminated so he can be observed swimming, swimming.

Encased in glass.

Water just the correct temperature.

Fed, content he swims.

Happily he glides through his regulated world, for ever observed.

 

A man travels on a train,

CCTV keeps him safe from pain.

Watched he sits contentedly munching, crunching.

For “your protection, CCTV operates throughout this train/station”.

The man is grateful, feels “safe” wrapped in his protective case.

Muggers, thieves are watched along, of course with him but, having nothing to fear he smiles, tut tuts at a headline in the paper and dozes, the movement of the train lulling him to sleep in this insulated world.

He dreams of yester year. A boy growing up, unobserved, free to roam.

Waking he shakes his head sadly,

“The world is a different place from when I was a boy. We must give up a little bit of freedom for the good of society. I have nothing to fear for I’m doing nothing wrong”, he thinks glancing at the camera which observes, keeping him, and the other good people “safe” from harm.

 

A woman plants a camera to catch her cheating spouse.

She observes the cheating pair, intimate details to make your toes curl.

 

A couple place tracking software in their teenage children’s mobile devices to keep them “safe”.

 

And still the fish glides serenely, content in his observed world.

 

50percent Of Occupations To Disappear In The Next 15 Years A New Report Predicts

A new report suggests that 50 percent of occupations will disappear in the next 15 years and lists those likely to perish together with those which will survive. The report’s author’s are optimistic that people will find new more interesting occupations to replace those which perish.

I note that authors don’t appear in either list. Not sure what one draws from that! For the article please visit http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2826463/CBRE-report-warns-50-cent-occupations-redundant-20-years-time.html

young offender (Part 1)

The clear, sharp bark of a fox pearced the rural solitude. A blackbird sang and a magpie screeched from the uppermost branch of an ancient oak . The tree stood close to the 18th-century farmhouse, it’s boughs almost touching the building’s sandstone walls.

Jennifer Lewes stood at the open living room window, drinking in the fresh Yorkshire air. She was, Jenny thought lucky to have secured the property at a knock-down price. The previous owner had gone bankrupt and wishing to make a quick sale, in order to clear debts, had accepted her first offer.

Jenny turned from the window at the sound of heels clacking on the kitchen’s stone floor,

“I’m bored shitless” her cousin, Luan said.

“Why not go for a walk down to the village? I need some groceries. You could pop into the shop and buy them for me”, Jenny said.

“Don’t wanna do that. There’s nothing in bloody village cept old people. I wanna go back to London. There’s sod all ere”, Luan said, kicking the legg of the kitchen table.

“Don’t do that Luan, it’s an antique”, Jenny said, swallowing down the anger which she felt welling up in her.

“You don’t care about me. All you cares about is things”, Luan said raising her right foot to kick the table again.

Jenny moved in front of the girl, before she could put her intention into action. Luan glared at Jenny and before she had time to react raked her nails across her face.

Jenny raised her right hand. Trembling with emotion she glared at her cousin.

“Go on, I dares ya”, Luan said.

For several minutes the girl and the older woman stood toe to toe, fists clenched, attempting to stir the other out. The grandfather clock struck 10 am. The sound caused Jenny to recollect herself. What the hell was she doing, a woman of 25 raising her hand to a 15-year-old girl. Jenny let her arm drop,and reaching for a piece of kitchen towel began to wipe away the blood which flowed from a scratch above her right eye.

“One more outburst like that and I’ll be straight on the phone to your probation officer. Mrs Maddox can take care of you. You remember what the magistrate said, “this is your last chance. If you come before the court again you will, in all probability be sent to a young offender’s institution”. Is that what you want Luan? Well is it?” Jenny said.

Luan began to cry quietly. Despite her tough demeanour the thought of a young offender’s institution terrified her. She had heard tales of girls being driven to suicide as a result of bullying by other inmates. Stories of physical and sexual abuse made Luan feel sick to the pit of her stomach.

“Sorry Jen”, she said, looking up with tear filled eyes into the face of her older cousin.

“OK, we’ll go to the shop together and, if you can behave maybe go for a trip into Leeds afterwards. It’s not London but it’s a city and we can look around the shops”, Jenny said.

Luan’s face brightened, “I can go by meself. Give me the bus fare”, Luan said.

“You must think that I was born yesterday young lady”, Jenny said.

“I aint gonna do anything”, Luan said.

“I’m not taking the chance. The last time you went to court it was for shop lifting. Either we go to town together or you don’t go at all”, Jenny said.

Luan’s face fell.

“Well what is it to be young lady?” Jenny said.

“Suppose I aint got no choice. I’ll go with ya”, the girl replied, her face a mask of disappointment.

Such Things As Dreams Are Made Of

An article in today’s Daily Mail (5 November) speculates that within 15 years we may have a machine with the capacity to record dreams.

On the one hand, imagine what new vistas this could offer for authors. With the invention of such a machine writers could take their dreams and construct amazing tales. Indeed some dreams might require no tailoring being perfect examples of ready-made stories.

On the other hand, imagine the possibilities for hackers. Mr Smith has experienced a particularly salacious dream about a lady (not his wife) and Jo Bloggs, a hacker threatens to release the recording to his partner unless a large sum of money is paid by Mr Smith.

Of course the above can be dismissed as so much science fiction. Perhaps it is, perhaps not. For the article please visit http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-2821686/Could-soon-record-DREAMS-Headset-uses-brainwaves-viewers-snapshots-subconscious-mind.html

Dark Angel By K Morris On Calamities Press

I am delighted that Calamities Press has accepted another of my poems, “Dark Angel” for publication. For “Dark Angel”, which first appeared on my blog, newauthoronline.com please visit the following link (http://calamitiespress.com/2014/11/02/dark-angel-poetry-by-kevin-morris/).

Halloween

Halloween is just so much hokum, a trick designed to part the gullible from their money. The fansy dress industry does well. Fake blood and vampire’s fangs fly off the shelves while kids pester the neighbourhood with Trick Or Treat.

At the dead of night we are not so sure. What is that shadow which keeps pace as we walk home from that Halloween Party? That unearthly scream setting the hairs on the back of your neck astir is, surely a cat yowling for it’s mate, isn’t it? You quicken your pace just in case.

Cutting through the churchyard will knock 5 minutes off your journey. In the brightness of day you would have no hesitation so why now do you hesitate to enter? The dead after all can not hurt you, “tis the eye of childhood that fears a painted devil”.

You enter the churchyard resisting the almost overwhelming temptation to glance over your shoulder. Laughter in the darkest corner of the graveyard. Oh sweet Jesus why did I walk through here. Logic tells you it is merely an amourous couple who, unable to contain their desire have chosen this place to satiate their lust but, still you run blindly tripping over gravestones until at last the gate is reached. Locked! Desperately you climb, trousers rip on the gate’s spiked top, you are beyond caring. You jump down on the other side and with heart racing run the last few hundred yards to home.

Come the bright morning you laugh at yesterday’s escapades. My imagination ran riot but still, somewhere deep in your subconscious the nagging doubts remain.