ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
I'm thirty nine, recently single again. I have two boys Cli' (pronounced clee) Real name Christopher and Mark. I'm a care in the community nurse and formerly (when I was married) an occupational Therapist working with the mentally ill on a secure unit. I love reading and writing and meeting people. I hate offal, seafood and intolerance. I keep dog, cat, polecats, rats and reptiles. And for seven years ran the second largest reptile sanctuary in Britain. Apart from having my lads, I think that's probably the most worthwhile thing I've ever done. Writing wise, I've been the main fiction writer for Legends magazine for three years.And have two books published 'Lizard's Leap' published by Quillusers, and 'Better the Devil You Know' soon to be released by Bestbooks.Um I drive a knackered old Astra, and ride a two litre trike. I live in the lake district of England, and am happy. :-) [January 2003]
AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (84) A Fork In The Road. (Short Stories) A paradox revolving round the lonely Holker Mosses in the dead of night. [2,835 words] [Mystery] A Twist In The Tail (Short Stories) - [963 words] Agony (Short Stories) The First in a series of Agony columns written by the unstoppable Aunt Nasty. (May be deemed offensive) [1,200 words] [Comedy] Agony 2 (Short Stories) Morew from the irrepresible Aunt Nasty (May be deemed offensive). [1,077 words] [Comedy] Angel Stew (Short Stories) The kitchens are in uproar. [826 words] [Comedy] Anne (Short Stories) - [707 words] Apple Of His Eye (Short Stories) Daddy's little girl, Daddy's little sweetheart. (May be deemed offensive). [1,742 words] [Drama] Attractions (Short Stories) People stared at the sisters and called them freaks. [678 words] [Drama] Bandit At Twelve-O-Clock (Short Stories) A sinister note drops through her letter box, but who is it from and what's it all about? [2,144 words] [Drama] Barriers (Short Stories) Everybody's frightened of the prisoner in the cell at the end of the block. [2,913 words] [Thriller] Breakfast In Bed (Short Stories) She loved her husband so much, and a sepcial man deserves a special breakfast. [1,633 words] [Horror] Car Trouble (Short Stories) Boys will be boys. [496 words] [Comedy] Cat's Chorus (Short Stories) - [1,332 words] Cherry Blossom (Short Stories) - [435 words] Cold, Cold Night.. (Short Stories) The night was beautiful but biting, she had to make her final farewells, a cigarette would help. [630 words] [Drama] Creeping Up From Behind. (Short Stories) You can't ever really know what someone else is thinking ... unless they choose to tell you. [925 words] [Drama] Dark Solitude. (Short Stories) A woman alone on the moors when a storm threatens, but this is no ordinanry storm and that is no ordinary lady. [1,434 words] [Drama] Dawn Rising (Short Stories) He looked at his own personal sunrise every morning, yet longed for the warmth of the sun. [1,069 words] [Drama] Deadly Persuit (Short Stories) Nature at its most cruel .. when it's interfered with by man. [1,541 words] [Drama] Deep Blue Eastern Light (Poetry) I've never been to Budapest, but I saw an image on a postcard, it was misty and had a sort of dreamy quality about it. I wondered about the spirit of Budapest. Hope I've done her justicce. [204 words] Different Road (Short Stories) Charlie is running scared. Will he find his way before his precious time runs out? [521 words] Empty House (Short Stories) This had been her domain, now it was only a shadow. [649 words] [Drama] Find Me A Place (Poetry) Everybody needs somewhere to run. [193 words] [Drama] Finding Fleur (Short Stories) Katy desperately wants to find Fleur, but does Fleur want to be found? [1,727 words] [Drama] Four Minute Warning (Short Stories) - [476 words] [Comedy] Freedom By Another Name (Short Stories) He's an imposter [557 words] [Drama] Furtive Glances (Short Stories) Always the last to know! [891 words] [Drama] Galaxy (Poetry) Let Venus bear witness and Mars be our guide. [139 words] Hickory, Dickory, Dock (Short Stories) - [991 words] [Drama] Is The Toilet Roll Half Full Or Half Empty (Short Stories) It's hard when you're at bursting point. [423 words] [Comedy] I've Always Wanted To Write... But! (Short Stories) There's always an excuse if you want to find one. [510 words] [Mind] Jasmine And Gardenia Love (Poetry) - [417 words] [Erotic] Jinny (Poetry) - [176 words] Just The Ticket (Short Stories) You pays your money and you takes your chances. [5,177 words] [Drama] Knockers (Short Stories) It's a dirty job, but someone's got to do it. [2,210 words] [Drama] Little Bird (Short Stories) He liked fragile things [1,406 words] [Drama] Lizards Leap (Novels) Four children buy an intricately carved frame from a school fair. A crazy old woman chases them desperately wanting the carving for herself. What is the mystery surrounding the strange frame? [5,753 words] [Adventure] Long Walk Back To Jurassica (Poetry) Evolution and progress or three million steps backwards? [323 words] [Drama] Lookingthrough The Window (Short Stories) - [401 words] Madness Becomes You (Short Stories) She used to be someone, now she's several people, or maybe she's nobody at all, it makes no difference. [394 words] [Drama] Making My Way Back To You. (Short Stories) She'd told them a thousand times to keep the front door closed, now tragedy had struck. [1,926 words] [Drama] Memberwhen (Poetry) Memberwhen that mystical word of long ago memories. [189 words] [Drama] Mortar Doesn't Breathe. (Short Stories) The house was inanimate, dead ... because her child was gone. [1,114 words] [Drama] Mourning Glory (Short Stories) One of my favourite pieces. Please note *This is not a children's story* It's the tale of a little girl trying to be a child. [1,786 words] [Drama] Mumbles From The Madhouse (Novels) It was her first day on the secure unit and somehow she had to see it through. [2,215 words] [Drama] My Friend The Tiger And Me (Poetry) I wrote this for my little boy when he was having trouble at school. [942 words] [Animal] Naughty Bunny Goes To Ibiza (Short Stories) - [552 words] One-Man Race (Short Stories) He had only his nerves to rely on. One slip and the race would be lost. [664 words] [Drama] Out Of Print (Short Stories) A man, a boy, a love of reading and echoes of the past. [2,007 words] [Drama] Outrun The River (Poetry) The snow was melting fast and he owed it to himself and his seld of dogs to make it to safety. [145 words] [Action] Pact Of Joy. (Short Stories) Don't we all just want to be happy? [2,497 words] [Drama] Play With Me Please. (Short Stories) - [322 words] Return Of The Hellcat (Erotica May Be Offensive) (Short Stories) Please do not read this one if easily offended. Or even not so easily offended. Continuing sexploits of Dark Solitude. [3,390 words] [Erotic] Room For One More (Short Stories) The dream was haunting and wouldn't leave Mike alone. [1,728 words] [Drama] Rush Hour (Short Stories) - [419 words] Sally (Short Stories) - [2,268 words] Sinister Music (Novels) She had no psychic ability, so why had fate chosen her to foretell of the spate of brutal murders? [6,114 words] [Drama] So This Is My Life Then (Short Stories) - [517 words] [Comedy] Space Walk (Short Stories) May Cause offense. [1,290 words] [Drama] Spirit Dancer (Poetry) - [514 words] Sweet Child Of Mine (Short Stories) The old lady had been brutally mugged, her son was sucjh a good boy, but would his thoughts now turn to revenge? [1,843 words] [Drama] Tangled Web (Short Stories) Treat `em mean and keep `em keen. [596 words] [Drama] The Band Played On (Short Stories) - [1,486 words] [Drama] The Big Picture (Short Stories) The little girl was a great artist, but her subject matter was giving cause for concern. [776 words] [Drama] The Comet. (Short Stories) Remember! [796 words] [Drama] The Dinosaur (Short Stories) - [1,523 words] The Half Empty Glass. (Short Stories) They had no idea of the horror they were walking into. [3,030 words] [Drama] The Hhmmm Efect (Poetry) - [783 words] The Iceberg (Short Stories) She had to break the hold they had on him... release him from his parents grip. [410 words] [Drama] The Joker (Short Stories) - [2,032 words] The Lovers (Poetry) - [124 words] The Old Enemy (Short Stories) I just hope I've got the names right. [253 words] [Drama] The Rosary (Short Stories) May cause offense. [422 words] The Spark (Short Stories) - [557 words] The Thirteenth Station (Short Stories) - [8,024 words] [Horror] The Village Green. (Short Stories) - [559 words] [Drama] Three Mile Gap (Poetry) So close and yet... [285 words] [Drama] Tomorrow Lies Beside Us (Poetry) - [239 words] [Drama] Tusk (Short Stories) - [1,012 words] [Drama] Under The Whether (Short Stories) - [1,626 words] Watching And Waiting (Short Stories) - [1,253 words] [Drama] White Icing (Short Stories) - [1,385 words] Worlds Biggest Loser (Short Stories) - [114 words] You Are My Sunshine (Short Stories) - [1,285 words]
The Mark Of Jack Sue (Sooz) Simpson
Jacki was in an apartment. An apartment overlooking the river. She was high up and the view from the big plate window was breathtaking. The apartment wasn’t so hot though. Clothes thrown over chair backs, overflowing ashtrays and ugh a coffee cup that had decided to grow.
She felt light-headed, almost as though she was floating. Where was she? How did she get here? There was a blue coat on the floor, was it her coat? She wasn’t sure, couldn’t seem to focus her thoughts into telling her if she owned a blue coat or not. And if she did possess a blue coat was it one with an ugly dark stain that looked horrendously like blood soaked into it?
She followed the sound of running water. Her movements leaden and her brain slow and sluggish. Down a corridor. Such a long corridor in such a small apartment. ‘The water, must follow the water she thought.’
A man was showering. His slim body clearly visible through the opaque glass. He showered aggressively, scrubbing at himself with a sponge suds flying onto the glass and hanging for a moment before slipping in a foamy white trail down to the shower basin. ‘Who was this man? What was she doing in his apartment?’ She asked herself again. Nothing seemed to make sense, she stared at the man, as she stood hesitantly on the threshold of his bathroom and she sunk frustratingly into her confusion.
Movement. Frenzied movement. It was behind her. No not it HE. He was behind her. She watched helpless as he stormed into the bathroom.
“What the …” began the man, flinging open the shower door. Jacki saw his eyes. All she saw were his eyes. They were wide with fear, but more than that, something else. Just to the side of the pupils a red triangle seemed to blink for a second in the light. A red triangle ’The Mark of Jack’ she found herself thinking. There was no hope for him. Not since he was marked out.
“Hey…” said the naked man, but that was as far as he got. HE began to slash at the man. White became red, and the red became a curtain, a thick velvet curtain that gradually came down over her vision. Leaving only the drowning darkness.
“The mark” She screamed as she sat bolt upright in her bed. She was soaked in a sheen of perspiration. Another nightmare. Oh god when was it going to end? What did it all mean?
She knew there would be no more sleep for her tonight so she padded into the kitchen to make a cup of hot milk for herself. Maybe she’d add a healthy slug of Brandy, just to steady her nerves. She tried to remember what the dream was about but it was gone. “The mark” she said to herself, but it meant nothing to her.
Earlier in the day she had an awful experience when she’d walked out in front of a bus without looking. A big, burly man had pulled her back wrenching his shoulder and swearing profusely. It was all so unpleasant that she’d tried to put it behind her but perhaps the incident had leeched into her dreams and caused her the unsettled night.
She took the mug out of the microwave and began to stir in the brandy. A flashback rocked a convulsion through her body. She felt as though a bolt of lightening had hit her. She was in a room, an untidy room. A Mug. There was a coffee mug on the floor beside a dingy brown armchair. Mould, there was a skin of mould cultivating on the top of the mug. And then she was back in her kitchen. The more she tried to remember the nightmare the more it slipped from her grasp. She gave up and let it fall over the cliff of her subconscious.
She turned the TV on, and sat on the edge of the sofa sipping her milk. Her body was taught and she couldn’t relax into the soft yielding cushions. A news report was just ending. Night Stalker would be on now. Sometimes it was good, and more and more often she had been awoken in the night lately. She was becoming night-time TV’s biggest fan.
“Get on with it” she told the newscaster irritably. The warmth of the hot milk had eased the shivers, but she still felt het up and hyper. The sleek newsman was as good a person as any to scream at.
The young man in the photo looked pleasant. Woodward, aged twenty six. Jacki’s heart stopped beating for enough beats to remind her to breathe, or at least that’s the way it felt to her. A reporter with a big furry microphone was standing in front of the river looking up at the block of apartments as she picked up the phone. She rang nine one one as best she could with trembling hands.
The phone was ringing. He reached one hand out from under the bedding and grabbed the handset, while simultaneously attempting the grand feat of opening one eye and checking the time. 4:03 am…
“Jesus!” he muttered “Hello Mitch Robins. This’d better be good.” There was a woman on the phone rambling incoherently.
“Hello who is this please? Are you alright miss.”
“I was there. I saw it. Saw the man getting murdered. Oh god send the police I was there.”
Mitch was alert. The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it.
“Whoa who is this? What’s going on?”
“This is Jacki Burgen. I need emergency services. Are you the police? I rang 911. I’ve just witnessed a murder.”
“Jacki? Jacki who jumps out in front of busses? Well Hi there Jacki ,“ He said sarcastically “I don’t mean to sound rude here, but What the hells going on and how did you get my number?”
“I rang 911. I rang 911,” She kept repeating as tears streamed down her face. This must still be the nightmare. That was it she was still dreaming.
“This isn’t real you know.” she said with a harsh hysterical laugh
“Jacki, I don’t know what the hell is going on but give me your address and I’ll come right over.”
READER'S REVIEWS (7) DISCLAIMER: STORYMANIA DOES NOT PROVIDE AND IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR REVIEWS. ALL REVIEWS ARE PROVIDED BY NON-ASSOCIATED VISITORS, REGARDLESS OF THE WAY THEY CALL THEMSELVES.
"Interesting. Are you planning on continuing this?" -- Douglas Barre.
"Must I assume your silence means no? If that is the case that is unfortunate, I would really look forward to seeing a completed version of this piece. It looks as if it could be written into a fine piece." -- Douglas Barre.
"She may be gone from here Douglas. Many of the pieces on this site were put up a long time ago, and many of them left and forgotten about. In fact some of them were put up so long ago, that some of the email addresses that the authors have left don't work anymore, so you can't contact them." -- Gwen McHenry, Providence, RI.
"Oh, stupid me, now that I think about it, those posts from that Douglas Barre could be equally old as the work they were placed under. He could have written that years ago for all I know, just the same as someone could be reading the words that I'm typing now a century or two after the fact." -- Gwen McHenry, Providence, RI.
"Thankyou douglas and sorry for the delay. I've been very busy lately marketing my novel which came out recently. also I'm mad busy writting the next two books so little time these days for writing sites unfortunately. Yes I may do something with this in the fture but I think I've lost touch with it a bit. Thankyou for the interest. " -- Sooz, Dalton-in-furness, England, Cumbria.
"Muzzle Flash’s Review: The Mark Of Jack Sue (Sooz) Simpson Jacki was in an apartment. ***This is not the most interesting opening line I’ve ever read. It doesn’t draw in the reader.*** An apartment overlooking the river. She was high up and the view from the big plate window was breathtaking. The apartment wasn’t so hot though. Clothes thrown over chair backs, overflowing ashtrays and ugh ***This is a non-standard word that doesn’t belong in exposition.*** a coffee cup that had decided to grow.***Growing cups???*** She felt light-headed, almost as though she was floating. Where was she? How did she get here? There was a blue coat on the floor, was it her coat? She wasn’t sure, ***add “she”*** couldn’t seem to focus her thoughts into telling her if she owned a blue coat or not. And if she did possess a blue coat was it one with an ugly dark stain that looked horrendously like blood soaked into it? She followed the sound of running water. Her movements leaden and her brain slow and sluggish. Down a corridor. Such a long corridor in such a small apartment. ‘The water, must follow the water she thought.’***Why is this line offset in apostrophes?*** A man was showering. His slim body clearly visible through the opaque glass. He showered aggressively, scrubbing at himself with a sponge suds flying onto the glass and hanging for a moment before slipping in a foamy white trail down to the shower basin. ‘Who was this man? What was she doing in his apartment?’ She asked herself again. Nothing seemed to make sense, she stared at the man, as she stood hesitantly on the threshold of his bathroom and she sunk frustratingly into her confusion. Movement. Frenzied movement. It was behind her. No not it HE. ***place “it” in italics or at the very least quotes, then add a dash to indicate a pause, then “he” in lower case also in italics.***He was behind her. She watched helpless as he stormed into the bathroom. “What the …” began the man, flinging open the shower door. Jacki saw his eyes. All she saw were his eyes. They were wide with fear, but more than that, something else. Just to the side of the pupils a red triangle seemed to blink for a second in the light. A red triangle ’The Mark of Jack’ she found herself thinking. There was no hope for him. Not since he was marked out. “Hey…” said the naked man, but that was as far as he got. HE ***If you want to address this other male character simply as “he” then use italics.*** began to slash at the man. White became red, and the red became a curtain, a thick velvet curtain that gradually came down over her vision. Leaving only the drowning darkness. “The mark” She screamed as she sat bolt upright in her bed. She was soaked in a sheen of perspiration. Another nightmare. Oh god when was it going to end? What did it all mean? She knew there would be no more sleep for her tonight so she padded into the kitchen to make a cup of hot milk for herself. Maybe she’d add a healthy slug of Brandy, just to steady her nerves. She tried to remember what the dream was about but it was gone. “The mark” she said to herself, but it meant nothing to her. Earlier in the day she had an awful experience when she’d walked out in front of a bus without looking. A big, burly man had pulled her back wrenching his shoulder and swearing profusely. It was all so unpleasant that she’d tried to put it behind her but perhaps the incident had leeched into her dreams and caused her the unsettled night. She took the mug out of the microwave and began to stir in the brandy. A flashback rocked a convulsion through her body. She felt as though a bolt of lightening had hit her. She was in a room, an untidy room. A Mug. ***This sentence is ill-placed, confusing, fragmented, and improperly capitalized.*** There was a coffee mug on the floor beside a dingy brown armchair. Mould, there was a skin of mould cultivating on the top of the mug. And then she was back in her kitchen. The more she tried to remember the nightmare the more it slipped from her grasp. She gave up and let it fall over the cliff of her subconscious. She turned the TV on, and sat on the edge of the sofa sipping her milk. Her body was taught and she couldn’t relax into the soft yielding cushions. A news report was just ending. Night Stalker would be on now. Sometimes it was good, ***What was good, her rest or the tv programming?*** and more and more often she had been awoken in the night lately. She was becoming night-time TV’s biggest fan. “Get on with it” she told the newscaster irritably. The warmth of the hot milk had eased the shivers, but she still felt het ***”het” is that some foreign word?*** up and hyper. The sleek newsman was as good a person as any to scream at. “….This evening … One a.m. …murdered ….brutal attack …defenceless ***defenseless***… police …urging …with information…come forward” ***Perhaps you could explain why the newscaster’s message was broken in places. Nervous newscaster? Faulty reception? Distracted viewer?*** The young man in the photo looked pleasant. Woodward, aged twenty six ***twenty-six***. Jacki’s heart stopped beating for enough beats to remind her to breathe, or at least that’s the way it felt to her. A reporter with a big furry microphone was standing in front of the river looking up at the block of apartments as she picked up the phone. She rang nine one one ***Usually it is best to write numbers out in word form rather than in digits, but here is one case where digits would be appropriate. 911.*** as best she could with trembling hands. ***Slightly confusing setting jump.*** The phone was ringing. He reached one hand out from under the bedding and grabbed the handset, while simultaneously attempting the grand feat of opening one eye and checking the time. 4:03 am… “Jesus!” he muttered “Hello Mitch Robins. This’d better be good.” There was a woman on the phone rambling incoherently. “Hello who is this please? Are you alright miss.” “I was there. I saw it. Saw the man getting murdered. Oh god send the police ***Use a comma right after “god” otherwise it looks like she’s asking god to send the police.*** I was there.” Mitch was alert. The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. “Whoa who is this? What’s going on?” “This is Jacki Burgen. I need emergency services. Are you the police? I rang 911. I’ve just witnessed a murder.” “Jacki? Jacki who jumps out in front of busses? Well Hi there Jacki ,“ He said sarcastically “I don’t mean to sound rude here, but What ***No reason to capitalize this.*** the hells ***hell’s*** going on and how did you get my number?” “I rang 911. I rang 911,” She kept repeating as tears streamed down her face. This must still be the nightmare. That was it she was still dreaming. “This isn’t real you know.” she said with a harsh hysterical laugh “Jacki, I don’t know what the hell is going on but give me your address and I’ll come right over.” ***Why would he do that if he really doesn’t know her? And is there more to this piece? I don’t see how it could end here. If it does you need to do a great deal more work on story conclusion. Don’t mean to sound insulting, but the reader needs to feel there is some sort of ending, even if it is a less than desirable one. Rarely can you leave the reader hanging, and usually that is a device used in horror and mystery, but that is always in the climax.*** " -- Cam Davis.
"No it's not complete, as it says above it was the start of something bigger. Thanks and thanks to Cam. http://members.lycos.co.uk/suesimpson/ " -- Sooz, Dalton-in-Furness, England, Cumbria.
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