Tag Archives: flash fiction

A 5 Star Review Of “Dalliance; A Collection Of Poetry And Prose”

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I was delighted to receive the following 5 star review of my book, “Dalliance; A Collection Of Poetry And Prose”:

“Each page has a short, often poignant, poem, prose or story that seem to reach inside and grasp the heart”. (For the review please visit http://www.amazon.co.uk/review/R301LNR40266YO/ref=cm_cr_rdp_perm?ie=UTF8&ASIN=B00QQVJC7E).

Thank you to the reviewer, Chris Graham for the above review. To download “Dalliance” please visit http://www.amazon.co.uk/Dalliance-collection-poetry-prose-Morris-ebook/dp/B00QQVJC7E/ref=cm_rdp_product (for the UK) or http://www.amazon.com/Dalliance-collection-poetry-prose-Morris-ebook/dp/B00QQVJC7E/ref=cm_cr_pr_bdcrb_top?ie=UTF8 (for the US and rest of world).

“Dalliance; A Collection Of Poetry And Prose” Will Soon Be Available In Print

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On 23 April I wrote about the release of an expanded edition of my book, “Dalliance; A Collection Of Poetry And Prose”, (http://newauthoronline.com/2015/04/23/an-expanded-edition-of-dalliance-a-collection-of-poetry-and-prose-is-available-for-download/). In that post I mentioned that a print edition of “Dalliance” is in preparation, (I hope this will be available in May 2015).

Given the growth in ebook sales why, you may ask have I decided to produce a print edition of “Dalliance”?

There are several reasons:

  1. A number of family and friends prefer print books over their electronic counterparts. Indeed I know of at least one family member who would struggle with an ebook. I could, of course print off copies and distribute them to family and friends. However I would rather present my readers with a professionally produced book than a publication held together by staples or contained in a ring binder.
  2. I like traditional books. Being blind I can’t read print books (most of my reading takes place using the text to speech facility on my Kindle). I do, however love the feel and scent of paper books. A beautifully produced book is an object to be cherished not only for its value as a means of communicating stories, information etc, but also as a thing of beauty possessed of intrinsic worth.
  3. I want to have a copy of “Dalliance” on my real (not merely Kindle) shelves.
  4. I intend to donate print copies of “Dalliance” to local businesses and service providers allowing those who would not otherwise come across my writing to do so. I will, of course gain the permission of said businesses. I intend to sidle up to business owners dressed in dark glasses and a rain coat which has seen better days and ask in a low tone while glancing furtively over my shoulder,

“Would you like something a little different?”

Then, prior to the police being called I will hand over my book!

 

If you would like a print copy of “Dalliance” please email me at newauthoronline (at) gmail.com putting “Dalliance” in the subject line.

 

Repair Man

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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.

The Literary Robots Are Coming!

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Back in January I wrote a piece of flash fiction entitled “Robert” (http://newauthoronline.com/2015/01/18/robert/). In that story I imagined a robot capable of producing works of literature on a par with those of Tolstoy and Dickens. While browsing the internet yesterday I came across the following article which reminded me of Robert, (http://readwrite.com/2013/01/15/why-write-your-own-book-when-an-algorithm-can-do-it-for-you). Should authors be worried? I have my own views but would be interested to hear from fellow authors and readers. Should we authors all jump off the white cliffs of Dover before the machines come for us?

 

Kevin

Last Christmas By Sophie Kat

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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…”

 

Ogre

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The clock ticks.

Upstairs an ogre sleeps.

Paralysed by fear, a child sits waiting for the monster to awake.

Hands of terror traverse the clock’s face.

A creak. The child glances fearfully upwards, praying for deliverance.

Book To Raise Money For Guide Dogs

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As those of you who follow this blog will know, I, together with fellow authors have produced an anthology to raise money for the Guide Dogs for the Blind Association, a registered charity which provides highly trained working guide dogs for visually impaired people. GDBA receives no funding from the government and relies entirely on the generosity of members of the public to continue it’s work of providing guide dogs thereby enabling visually impaired people to live and work independently.

The anthology is free to download but we ask that you please make a donation to Guide dogs when downloading.

Many thanks to everyone who has donated thus far. As of now the amount received stands at £111.25. To donate and download the anthology please visit here, (http://newauthoronline.com/anthology-to-raise-money-for-guide-dogs/).

 

Many thanks,

 

Kevin

Street Walker By K Morris Free On Amazon From 16 to 20 March 2015

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My collection of short stories, “Street Walker And Other Stories” is free in the Kindle store from 16 to 20 March 2015. To download “Street Walker” free please visit http://www.amazon.com/Street-Walker-other-stories-Morris-ebook/dp/B00HLRNDP4 or http://www.amazon.co.uk/Street-Walker-other-stories-Morris-ebook/dp/B00HLRNDP4

 

If you read “Street Walker” or any of my other books I would appreciate it if you would please consider leaving a review.

 

Many thanks,

 

Kevin

A Clubbable Man

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It was frequently remarked of the honourable Julian Carruthers-Jones that “He was not a clubbable man”. This statement was belied by the presence of a bloody cudgel which lay some little distance from the corpse of the late Carruthers-Jones …