Tag Archives: murder

Ruth Ellis: The Last Woman To Hang In The UK

Ruth Ellis was the last woman to be hanged here in the United Kingdom. She shot her lover who had been physically abusive towards her. (During the trial Ellis mentioned how he had punched her in the stomach which may well have contributed to the loss of the baby she was carrying).

Today Eliss would, no doubt have received a prison sentence. This would, however have (in all probability) been light in nature due to the extreme physical abuse she suffered at the hands of her lover. The Ellis case is one of the reasons why I am, on balance opposed to the death penalty, https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2018/mar/12/ruth-ellis-files-bbc-documentary-murder-case-cant-let-go

There is a quiet place

The horrific terrorist attack, which took place in London on the evening of 4 June, brought to mind my poem “There is a quiet place out of reach”. Those who carried out this atrocity have “empty souls”, indeed some may doubt whether they possess any soul whatever. Had it not been for the swift action of the police, in shooting dead the terrorists, this terrible incident could have been even worse. Fanaticism and barbarism must be withstood and defeated.


“There is a quiet place out of reach
To those who hatred preach.
They prate,
And understand too late,
Or perhaps not at all,
That pride comes before a fall.

Words meaningful as a harlot’s compliment fall
On the ear
Of men who hear what they want to hear.
The truth clear
Is, I fear,
Too often lost in sound and beer.

The fanatic’s words drear
Will fill the empty soul
Of those whose goal
Is the destruction of the whole
Liberal project;
To which they object
Without knowing why.
Then, pointlessly, die”. 

We Should Stand With Our Fellow Bloggers Who Are Being Threatened With Death

The Guardian reports that a militant group has published a “hitlist” of activists and bloggers. The extremist organisation has said that the named individuals (some of whom are UK citizens) should be killed due to their criticism of Islam. We should all as bloggers and believers in freedom condemn outright this barbarous threat. A number of individuals have already died simply for daring to express views which these fanatics regard as heretical.

It is easy to believe that such threats have little relevance to us as authors of fiction. However practically everything written can, if read (or mis-read) by a deranged person cause offence and lead the reader to engage in violence against the writer. Unless one confines oneself purely to writing technical manuals there exists a possibility that your words will, sooner or later cause offense. We should all be concerned and stand together with our fellow bloggers who are threatened by those who have a warped conception of Islam. (I say warped as most Muslims have no truck with fanatics).


‘An Act of Mercy and other stories’ promotion

Starting from Friday 21st until Tuesday 25th February, my collection of short stories ‘An Act of mercy and other stories’ will be free to download from the Kindle store.

Get ‘An Act of Mercy and other stories’ here now: http://www.amazon.co.uk/An-act-mercy-other-stories-ebook/dp/B00EHS74CS for the UK and http://www.amazon.com/An-act-mercy-other-stories-ebook/dp/B00EHS74CS for the US

Street Walker And Other Stories Available In The Kindle Store

My latest collection of stories, “Street Walker And Other Stories” is now available in the Kindle Store. In this collection of flash fiction we meet a variety of characters, many of whom have been deeply damaged by life. The stories range from a young prostitute

who walks the dangerous streets of London to tales of vengeance and comeuppance. Serious issues of abuse of power are touched upon. Anyone who is looking

for a comfortable read should avoid this book.

You can find “Street Walker And Other Stories” here, http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00HLRNDP4 (for the US) and here, http://www.amazon.co.uk/Street-Walker-other-stories-Morris-ebook/dp/B00HLRNDP4/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1388476386&sr=1-1&keywords=Street+Walker+and+other+stories (for the UK). For my Amazon Author’s Page please go to http://www.amazon.co.uk/K.-Morris/e/B00CEECWHY/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0.

Kindle Countdown Deal: An act of mercy and other stories

My collection of short stories, An act of mercy and other stories, will be available for 99 cents (Amazon US) from the 18th December until the 24th December.

An act of mercy and other stories is a collection of dark and intriguing tales encompassing blackmail, murder and sex.

For an act of mercy, please visit: http://www.amazon.com/act-mercy-other-stories-ebook/dp/B00EHS74CS/ref=la_B00CEECWHY_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1384374016&sr=1-2

For my Amazon authors page please visit: http://www.amazon.co.uk/K.-Morris/e/B00CEECWHY/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0


“How could he do it? Put a pillow over Tony’s face and”. Jean shuddered unable to finish her sentence.

“There was always something not right about that lad. Didn’t I tell you he wasn’t right in the head?” Tina said addressing the small group who sat at a corner table in the Grapes, a bottle of white wine between them.

“Yeah Tina, you always said that” Martha said as she poured herself another glass of wine.

“But why? A kid just doesn’t up and suffocate his dad like that. There must be a reason. Kids aint born evil” Jean said.

“Bloody do gooder, why are you always looking for reasons. Boy is evil, that’s all there is to it” Tina responded banging her fist on the table as she spoke. “I’m sick of people making excuses. No wonder the country’s in the state it is, because people like you say “oh poor lad, we must understand him”. Understand him, the boys a monster. They should throw away the key. They won’t though. A good lawyer, paid for out of my bloody taxes and he’ll be out in 5 (7) years maximum”.

“They never should have got rid of the rope. You remember me saying that don’t you Tina?” Martha said appealing to her friend.

“I do Martha and I always agreed with you on that, as god is my witness I’ve always believed the biggest mistake this country ever made, apart from joining the Common Market, was to get rid of hanging. That little bugger will be living the life of riley while the poor bloody tax payer foots the bill”.

“But the kid’s only 13” Jean said.

“13, that’s old enough to know the difference between right and wrong. Society is going to the dogs. Have you seen Wendy’s Lucy? 14-years-old and pushing a pram and it’s the fucking tax payer who picks up the bill again!” Tina said banging her glass on the table.

“He was such a lovely man was Tony. Always laughing and joking and now that little sod has murdered him. Christ I don’t know what the worlds coming to. I’m glad that I haven’t got much longer on this earth” Martha said.

“Come off it Martha you will outlast us all” Tina said. “Hows little Ronnie” (referring to Martha’s grandson).

“Oh he’s great. Do you know what the little rascal did the other day?” The conversation moved on the subject of Tony forgotten.



He felt the pillow pressed against his little face. He gasped for air. Just as he thought “I’m going to die” the weight was removed. It was always the same. For no reason the pillow or a cushion would be pressed against his face and at the moment when the boy felt he couldn’t take any more the torment ceased, until the next time.

He was a patient child. He waited the hate like a fire kindling within him. An afternoon of drinking in the pub. A man taking his last snooze on the sofa. You, dear reader know the rest.

My Confession

I have always regarded myself as a civilised man. The idea of violence makes me feel physically ill. Life is a precious spark which should on no account be snuffed out. To commit that most wicked of acts, murder is to lose one’s own soul. To have on one’s conscience the death of another is surely the most appalling weight any human being can carry. What is done can not be undone. The flash of a blade, a slight pressure on the trigger and death swiftly claims his prize.

However we all have our limits. A point beyond which we say thus far and no further. It is a rare man indeed who when struck on the right cheek proffers the left in order that his assailant may strike that also. Very few men can follow the precepts of Christ and permit others to abuse them with impunity. I for one do not possess the saintly qualities required to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune without taking up arms and, albeit reluctantly defending myself.

I am a patient person and possess the capacity to put up with a great deal of abuse but, ultimately my patience will snap.

You wouldn’t follow the path of prudence. No you, like a fool insisted on plaguing the life out of me. All I wanted to do was to enjoy my lunch free from distractions but you insisted on making that most irritating of noises. Not content with asailing my ears you wouldn’t keep still. Next to me one moment and then in the kitchen eating my food. It isn’t as though I invited you into my home. Like a thief in the night you entered and paid the consequences of your rash actions.

I aimed taking my time. It is important to get a good shot. You tried to escape but my merciless finger pressed down and death streaked as swift as lightening and found his mark. Poor little thing your death agonies pricked my conscience exceedingly. You rolled around on the floor desperately clinging to existence but, eventually you succumbed to the wasp spray …

Bath Time

They found him lying face down in his bath. Donna, the barmaid in the Grapes where the elderly man had been drinking on that fateful Saturday afternoon,informed WPC Margaret Thomas that, to the best of her recollection he had consumed at least 10 pints of lager. The post mortem revealed a blood alcohol level consistent with Donna’s testimony and there being no suspicious circumstances surrounding the incident a verdict of accidental death was returned. As his friends remarked

“Poor Stan must have banged his head on the bath, lost consciousness and drowned”.



George hated the bathroom. Nothing unusual about that one might say and, indeed as a small boy he shared with his friends a detestation of cleanliness. Playing football, getting caked in mud was all tremendous fun but washing constituted barbarism perpetrated on children by unsmiling adults. In the case of his friends bath time meant gentle cajoling to enter the water. If they refused to wash then their parents driven to distraction might, to howls of protest take hold of the recalcitrant child and soap him from head to toe with imperial leather. Years later George’s friends smiled as they recalled bath time, not so George.

Have you ever felt the cold enamel of a basin as it touches your face? Yes very possibly you have my dear readers. Let me rephrase the question, have you ever felt strong hands holding your head under water? Have you felt the panic rising in you, the terrible unspeakable fear that you would drown? Have you wondered why man does evil unto man? I hope that the answer is no. Little George could unfortunately answer yes to all these questions. He lived in terror of the man. Outwardly charming, the life and soul of the party. He was such a charmer was Stan, no one would have dreamed that he was abusing his step son. Oh reader is that really the case? Shouldn’t someone have seen the terror in George’s eyes when Stan was in the room? Some no doubt remarked on the fact that when Stan was absent how George seemed happy and relaxed. Had someone acted then would Stan’s fate have been averted? Would he have died peacefully in his bed rather than struggling for breath as his lungs filled with water? Perhaps we should ask George but he, like Mccavity wasn’t there, or was he?