Tag Archives: crime

A Scammer Came Acalling

“Mr Morris?”
“Whose calling?”
“Your internet provider”.
“And who is my internet provider?”
“I’m calling from” (the caller proceeds to mention an internet service provider (ISP), but not the company who provide me with both my web connection and telephone line, and, not surprisingly, I hang up without another word)!
Given that my home telephone number (landline) is unlisted in the telephone directory, heaven only knows how these scammers obtained my number! My ISP has been hacked, several times which may, perhaps explain the number of such calls received by me. Whatever the cause, it is extremely annoying and the things which I would like to do to these cold callers/scammers are, quite literally unprintable!

A Short Sighted Police Officer Called Mia

A Review of my collection of short stories, “The Suspect and Other Tales”

Behind Closed Door

A 5 star review of my collection of short stories, “The Suspect and Other Tales”

2 Replies

I was delighted to receive the below 5 star review for my collection of short stories, “The Suspect and Other Tales”:

“This is a well-written collection of tales, some of which have surprising endings, and all of which make for great reads.
I enjoyed “the Condemned Man” a lot. But “Something Wicked” and “The 8.32” were my favourites”.
For the review please visit HERE
Many thanks to the reviewer for taking the time to read and review “The Suspect and Other Tales”.

Kevin

“Ghosts of Chechnya” By Jenny Ensor

3 Replies

My acquaintance, Jenny Ensor, is looking for funding to turn her novel, “Ghosts Of Chechnya” in to an ebook. The synopsis on Jenny’s Unbound page reads as follows:

“Ghosts of Chechnya explores love and friendship, and the impact of war and terrorism on our lives. Georgie, a young London woman who’s been deeply hurt
in the past, tells the story. It begins in London in early 2005, the year of the bus and Tube bombings.

Georgie meets Russian former conscript soldier Nikolai in a pub after she is uplifted by the impromptu music he plays. Nikolai, newly arrived from Russia,
dreams of becoming a composer but for now survives as a low-waged casual worker.

Julian, a close friend of Georgie’s, admits he loves her and warns her to keep away from the Russian. But despite the concerns of both her father and Julian,
Georgie can’t resist Nikolai. He tells her of his experiences while serving in the Russian army, and seems haunted by a Chechen woman who showed him a
simple act of kindness, blaming himself for her death.

Georgie guesses that Nikolai is hiding something from her. She wonders if he will ever heal from the psychological wounds that war has inflicted. His music
– and their increasing closeness – seem to be the only things that keep him going.

Then London is shaken by terrorism. In the emerging climate of fear, Georgie’s father condemns Nikolai; Georgie must ask herself who the Russian really
is. Also, how well does she really know Julian, who can’t seem to let her go? As a net of shadowy threats tightens, Georgie must find out who she can trust
and who she should fear, before it’s too late.

This gripping, debate-provoking novel asks at how well we can ever know anyone; it also deals with reconciliation, forgiveness and the folly and suffering
of war. I strongly believe in this project and hope very much that you will decide to offer your support”.
For Jenny’s Unbound page please visit https://unbound.co.uk/books/ghosts-of-chechnya.

Country Places

2 Replies

Books in oak cases,

Country places.

Grandfather clocks tick,

The squire leans upon his stick.

A gun dog through the bracken scrambles,

After him the squire ambles.

—

Neon advertising signs,

Clubbers drunk on wine.

Half dressed girls sway on unsteady feet,

Trying to keep to the beat.

Fruit machines flash,

After knife wielding thugs the police dash.

—

In his study the squire sits,

from a glass of fine brandy he sips.

The dog his hand licks,

Elsewhere society falls to bits.

A Review Of My Book “Samantha”

2 Replies

My book, “Samantha” tells the story of a young woman forced into prostitution in the city of Liverpool. Can she survive the brutal treatment of her psychopathic pimp, Barry or will Sam end her tortured existence in the murky waters of Liverpool’s Albert Docks?

On checking for reviews of “Samantha”, I was pleased to see that it has received a 5 star review. In a review entitled “Brilliant Short Book” the reviewer writes as follows:

“The characters in this book were bought to life by the way the author told the story. It was like a true scent of this day and age”.

Thank you to the reviewer for their review of “Samantha”. For the review please visit, (http://www.amazon.co.uk/review/R90UBPUL6H1OU/ref=cm_cr_rdp_perm?ie=UTF8&ASIN=B00BL3CNHI). To download “Samantha please visit http://www.amazon.co.uk/Samantha-K-Morris-ebook/dp/B00BL3CNHI/ref=cm_rdp_product (for the UK) or http://www.amazon.com/Samantha-K-Morris-ebook/dp/B00BL3CNHI (for the rest of the world).

Kevin

Repair Man

8 Replies

My grandfather used to do this self-same job. Who would have thought that the occupation would still be going strong after all these years. He would be amazed to see how the job has changed. I’m sure he wouldn’t believe what we repairers do these days and, if he did then chances are he wouldn’t like it.

Progress is a funny thing. You can’t stand in the way of progress. I mean society’s so much more stable now, crimes practically vanished. I’m proud that in a small way I’m contributing to a safe society one in which my girlfriend can walk the streets free from the fear of molestation and where our kids can play out without my partner and I constantly worrying about them.

The technology has improved so much. When I was a boy you had big bulky box-like objects standing on legs or in cabinets in the corner. There are still a few of the old tellies around. I wish I haden’t given grandfather’s away. You see the old sets from the 70’s and 80’s going for mega bucks on the web. Those from the 50’s and 60’s go for even more. Of course the old sets don’t work with digital, people just like to have something retro in the corner to look at. It’s a talking point when visitors come around.

The new sets break down fairly regularly. It’s a scandal that they need fixing as often as they do, especially as they cost so much to produce. But then you can’t put a price on security can you?

It tends to be the older generation who are resistant to new technology. Some of them have even been known to obstruct the television or even break them. Why break a perfectly good TV? It beats me.

Of course its not compulsory to have a TV but you get looked at askance if you don’t have one. Anyway there are so many incentives to have a TV that practically no one is without one. Because of advertising most of the channels are free and you get a reduction in your taxes if you have a set. It isn’t a big tax cut but it’s worth having. The girlfriend and I used the money we saved following the installation of our all singing, all dancing set to take the kids abroad.

It was strange being in that foreign hotel room. We had a telly, I can’t imagine being without one but it was odd. I mean it was just a set for watching programmes. Sure you could go online with it (all modern sets have that capability) but it didn’t do the thing everyone (well the majority of people) are used to and accept in my country.

“You know Rob its kind of nice to be alone. Just you, me and the kids” Jenny said.

“Those who have nothing to hide have nothing to fear”, I said.

Who needs privacy. We’ve got a good standard of living. Society is stable and secure now. I’m proud that in a very small way, as the installer of sets which both receive and transmit I’m contributing to the happiness and prosperity of my fellow citizens.

Last Christmas By Sophie Kat

4 Replies

Many thanks to Sophie Kat of Sophie Speaks up for the below short story which I very much enjoyed reading. I look forward to reading more of Sophie’s work. For Sophie’s blog please visit, https://sophiespeaksup.wordpress.com/.

Last Christmas

December 24, 2014. Christmas Eve.

It was unbelievably cold outside. I sat in a café, waiting for less activity outside the streets, and looked around at different people. What I found out were these…

Name: Julie Althea M. Richardson
Birth: September 20, 1987
Death: July 17, 2028
Cause of Death: Car crash

Name: Anthony L. Cohen
Birth: February 2, 1975
Death: August 3, 2037
Cause of Death: Heart Attack

Name: Taylor Elizabeth T. Morgan
Birth: March 14, 1995
Death: December 24, 2014
Cause of Death: Murder

I gasped and spilled hot coffee on the white table cloth. The couple sitting at the next table looked at me as if I was out of my mind.

Name: John Patrick H. West
Birth: April 28, 1990
Death: July 10, 2075
Cause of Death: Old age

Name: Amber Lily C. Collins
Birth: January 26, 1991
Death: January 27, 2052
Cause of Death: Brain cancer

They weren’t wrong. I was really out of my mind. How could I know these pieces of information by just looking at people? This had been happening for as long as I could remember. Before, I’d tried to tell people, to warn them about their deaths. But, of course, no one believed me. They would tell me that I was crazy or that I was the long lost child of Satan. Either way, they’d tried to take me to a psychiatric ward, claiming that I needed help. I didn’t. To me, it was a gift. But, I learned the hard way to just shut my mouth. No one wanted to know about their deaths, anyway. Not like that.

I sat up straight, hanging my head in apology, and pretended that nothing was happening with me—that I didn’t just find out that a girl would be killed!

I glanced at her again and saw the same information. Murder. Taylor would still be murdered. But, by whom?

She turned the page of the book she was reading and flipped her shiny red hair to her shoulder. She was one of the most beautiful girls I’d seen. With those huge round eyes, cute little button nose, and pasty white skin, she looked so innocent and fragile. Why would anyone want to kill her?

I looked around and searched for something, anything—some kind of a clue maybe. But nothing seemed suspicious. No one in here looked capable of killing. I didn’t know why but I was still wary. What if the murderer was here in this café? What would he look like? Why would he do such thing? How would he kill her? And, why did I care? I never intervened before. If I knew that someone was going to die in the same day, I never did anything to stop it—not that it happened before. But, if that was their fate, then so be it. I could never change it. They never believed me anyway.

The girl’s phone rang. She pulled it out, baffled, and put it near her ear. I couldn’t hear the conversation but she was looking outside the café through the glass windows—searching for something, maybe—while she talked. As she glanced back in, our eyes met. She froze and gave me a shy smile. I just stared at her, not knowing what to do.

The call ended and suddenly she stood up, walking to the double doors and out.

Shit.

Why didn’t I think that the murderer could be outside? She could be killed anywhere, any time of the day.

Leaving my cup of coffee half-full, I stood up immediately and followed her. The cold wind bit my skin as I went outside. I wrapped my coat tighter around me and went to the direction she was going. I didn’t know what I was getting with this but I kept following her. Was I really planning on intervening?

She turned around the corner and walked faster. I did, too, trying to keep her in my sight at the same time being discreet about it. I didn’t want to scare her if she knew that I was following her just because it was written that she was going to be killed. She wouldn’t believe me.

She crossed the streets and went right to the direction of a gasoline station. I stopped and watched her for a second, wondering what she’s up to. She went into the convenience store and talked to the lady in charge of the cashier.

Name: Jenny B. Carlson
Birth: October 6, 1983
Date: May 22, 2015
Cause of Death: Arson

The lady pointed to direction of the rest rooms. That’s where Taylor went to.

I went inside the store and waited outside the rest rooms. I counted the seconds, the minutes, until almost half an hour had passed. I forced the ladies’ room open and found it empty. What? Where did she go? I checked outside the store and saw that Taylor was running across the street.

What the hell? Why would she run? Did she know that someone was after her? Wait. Did she know that I was following her? Was she thinking that I was stalking her? I had to set this right. She would really get herself killed if I didn’t. I ran after her, ignoring the shouts of the cashier lady.

She ran faster, trying to dodge the people, and turned to a more secluded area. I followed her and found her in a dark, empty alleyway—a dead end. I sighed in relief. She turned around and saw me, making her gasp. She stepped back until her back touched the cement wall. Cautiously, I walked to her.

“Why are you following me?” She asked.

I halted. Why? Why was I following her? To save her? To stop the murderer? But how? I couldn’t tell her that. She wouldn’t believe me.

I started. “I don’t know. I just…I just wanted to—“

“I don’t have anything you need. Please, just let me go,” she said, her arms rose in front of her in a stop gesture, her eyes full of fear.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to help,” I told her the truth, my voice calming and soothing. I really wanted to help her. I didn’t mean to frighten her.

“No. Please! D-don’t go near me.”

I didn’t. But, I had to tell her. “You have to believe me. I just want to help you. Someone’s going to kill you…today.”

“W-what? What are you talking about?”

“Someone’s out here to kill you.” I took another step and tried to approach her.

“Stop! Why are you saying this?”

“I just want to help you.”

“No!”

“Someone’s going to kill you. You have to believe me!” I gritted in frustration.

“Stop this! Stop! You’re scaring me. Why are you doing this?”

“I just want to help you. I’m telling the truth—“

“No, you’re not. Stop this! No one’s going to kill me. You’re crazy!”

“I’m not crazy!”

“Please, just let me go!”

Agh! I couldn’t do this anymore. I had to make her understand! I had to make her believe me. I’m telling the truth, damn it! I just wanted to help her. Warn her. Try to save her. But she didn’t believe me. No one believed me. I had to shake some sense out of her. I knew the truth. I had their fate. Finally, I took the last steps to her.

“Stop!”

“No,” I growled. “I’m telling the truth.”

All of a sudden, everything became a blur. The last thing I heard was a scream.

Taylor dropped to the ground, blood oozing from her head.

December 25, 2014. Christmas Day.

The woman on the TV looked professional and calm as she reported the biggest news of the season.

Name: Rose Isabel J. Smith
Birth: July 29, 1985
Death: November 2, 2048
Cause of Death: Breast Cancer

“A 19 year old girl identified as Taylor Elizabeth Morgan was found dead in an alley at Rosewood Street, this morning. Her head was bashed on the concrete wall by a still missing suspect. Witnesses claimed that they saw a man, who was identified as Jason Tyler McGuire, following her into a convenience store in a gasoline station at around 4:00 in the afternoon yesterday. The McGuire’s family filed a report to the police earlier that McGuire was missing for a week prior the incident, causing them to worry about him since the man was reported to be suffering from schizophrenia. The police are now looking for him with the help of his family. When he’s found, he will be admitted to a psychiatric hospital to check his mental condition, before taking any legal proceedings. Meanwhile, Morgan’s family is still seeking for justice. This is the first Christmas that they’ll be celebrating without their only daughter…”