The Postcard

I recently had my first ever story published in the anthology 'Home Tommorrow.' It consists of short stories no more than 500 words in length, and must relate to the title in some way. I devised a short tale about an elderly woman living on her own, partly inspired by a real life experience from my uncle's mother.

Please read and enjoy.

“I won’t be in next week. I’m going home tomorrow.”

    That was what Barry had said a month ago. Julie hadn’t thought much of his comment at the time. Now she couldn’t get it out of her head.

    Warming her hands on her cup of coffee she stared out the rain soaked kitchen window at her garden. The grass was long and weeds were cropping up in the flowerbed. At eighty one she was too old to maintain it herself. That was why three years ago she had employed a self employed gardener named Barry Jones.

    She took a seat at her rickety kitchen table. The house was quiet and had been since the death of her husband eight years ago. Her two sons never visited and she had very few friends. It was why she looked forward to Barry’s visits once a week. After finishing work he would come in for a cup of tea and tell stories from his exciting life. He had never stayed in one place for long, joining the army aged sixteen, leaving it ten years later to travel the world on a cruise ship, then returning to make his money gardening when he had been made redundant.

     She grabbed the newspaper lying on the tabletop. It was five days old and she had read it cover to cover, but she could only venture to the newsagents for a new one when the weather was fine and with the aid of two walking sticks. She would have to go out at some point though as she was running out of food. If Barry was still here he would have bought some supplies for her.

    Given his past she knew she shouldn’t have been surprised when he had disappeared. But the way he had completely vanished unnerved her. He didn’t call her and her phone didn’t even connect when she tried to call him. When she had visited his house two weeks ago she found it empty and abandoned. When her son had called her last week she had asked him to check Barry’s website and he found it had been taken down. After saying he was going home, Barry had disappeared from the face of the earth.

     She sighed and closed the crumpled newspaper, before slumping into her seat and listening to the rain beating against the window. She wondered what she could do today. She could barely face another day in front of the television watching Cash in the Attic, but there wasn’t much else for her to do.

     She heard the sound of the letterbox opening and shutting, and she slowly hoisted herself out of her seat and used her walking stick to shuffle to the hallway. Only one letter was waiting for her on the mat, a postcard depicting a Cornish fishing village. She recognised the handwriting immediately, and her spirits lifting she start reading. The message began “Dear Julie, I’m home now...”

Copyright Michael Foster 2012

My new pledge.

Right I have been neglecting this blog as of late. Partly due to real life getting in the way and all that. But from now on that's going to change. I will now be updating this blog at least twice a week with new material. It won't always be new writing or chapters, but will also be reviews of books, films and games I've recently enjoyed, as well as general stuff that has caught my attention. So please keep watching. Hope you enjoy my new posts.

Zack Anderton - Chapter 2

Here's a sample from the second draft of another of my childrens story. In this chapter we see protagonist Zack Anderton on a regular school day, unaware that in the evening his life will change forever.

 

Zack Anderton wasn’t happy when his alarm went off at quarter past seven. Not opening his eyes he fumbled around on his bedside table. Eventually his fingers touched his mobile phone and he turned it off. Pulling his duvet tightly around him he hoped he would be able to grab a few extra minutes sleep. But when he heard the door to his bedroom opening he knew he wasn’t going to be so lucky.

     “Oi, no snooze time for you today, not after what happened yesterday!”

     Zack opened his eyes just enough to see the blurry outline of Sami standing in his doorway with her arms folded, already fully dressed. “How can you be so awake at this time?” he yawned at her.

      “Years of early starts and a caffeine addiction,” Sami replied. Zack closed his eyes and tried to ignore her, secretly hoping she would miraculously disappear. However Sami wasn’t going to be beaten, and seeing his discarded school uniform on the floor she picked it up and threw it so that it landed on his head.

     “Alright I’m up I’m up,” Zack announced, throwing the uniform off of his face and sitting up in bed.

     Smirking Sami informed him, “Breakfast in fifteen minutes. Better be quick. I won’t be buying Chinese tonight if you make me late for work again.”

    With that she walked out, leaving Zack to kick his duvet off and slowly lower himself out of bed. He tried to remember the dream he had been having. He had been lying on an operating table surrounded by men wearing surgery masks and clothes. He had tried to fight them off but they had placed an aesthetic mask over his mouth, and then he remembered no more. The dream had gone.

    Giving a yawn he walked over to his wardrobe, tiptoeing his way around crumpled pieces of clothing spread across his floor. He examined himself in the mirror hanging from the wardrobe door. His mousy brown hair had tidied itself during the night but he could easily sort that out with a bit of wax. His face had a couple of spots on it, but they didn’t spoil his gentle brown eyes or his wild, beaming smile that was almost a permanent feature. He took off his T-shirt to put on his school uniform, catching a glimpse of a body toned by years of football and athletics. Despite only being thirteen he was already turning into quite a handsome young man. According to his uncle he had the body, hair and brains of his dad, combined with the smile, eyes and humour of his mum.

     It didn’t take him long to put his uniform on. After ruffling his hair with wax to keep it wild and unkempt and adjusting his tie so it was as slack as possible, he barged through his bedroom door and bounded onto the landing with so much speed he almost knocked his younger sister Becca into the airing cupboard. “Zack watch it!” she squealed as he tore past her.

     “Sorry sis,” he yelled as he jumped down the first three steps on the staircase at once. As he landed his foot slipped on the polished wood. Within seconds the world was spinning around him as he fell head over heels down the stairs. He felt each individual step jab into him as he fell, until he landed on his back and banged his head on the tiled floor at the bottom. He stared up at the ceiling, time seeming to slow down for a couple of seconds, until he became aware of Becca kneeling over him.

     “Zack are you ok?” she asked, sounding as concerned as she looked.

    “That didn’t really go according to plan,” Zack groaned in reply.

      The voice of his older sister Amy was then heard bellowing, “What the hell has he done now?”

    Zack could sense movement at his side, as Sami appeared and began to examine him. “Can you move?” she asked him in her professional voice.

    Lifting himself up into a sitting position Zack replied, “Looks like it.” His body ached a little but he was surprised that he wasn’t hurt anymore than he actually was.

    Becca gave a loud gasp. “Oh my God you’re bleeding!” she exclaimed.

    “Am I?” Zack asked. He felt behind the back of his head and felt something warm and sticky in his hair. “Oh how about that,” he remarked as he saw blood on his fingers when he pulled his hand back.

     Sami helped him to his feet and took him into the kitchen, where she promptly sat him down. Across the table from him was his fifteen year old sister Amy. She hadn’t touched her toast and was instead preoccupied texting someone from school. Her long brunette hair was swept down to one side and her pretty face was covered in foundation. “Can’t you stay out of trouble for one minute?” she muttered to Zack without taking her eyes off her phone.

     “He just fell down the stairs” said Becca as she took a seat next to Zack. The eleven year old stared at him through her rectangular glasses, and fiddled with her long mousy hair tied back into a ponytail, which she always did when she was nervous.  

    Zack noticed this and gave a laugh. “Don’t panic sis I feel fine.”

    Becca didn’t seem convinced. “Do you have concussion? Does the room seem blurred?”

    “Let me handle this Becca!” Sami said, examining the wound at the back of Zacks head. As she worked he remarked to himself how useful it was that one of his uncle’s best friends was a fully qualified doctor. Sami didn’t normally stay with him and his sisters. She was looking after them while their uncle was away on business, something that he did quite regularly. It meant that for the rest of the time he was able to work at home, so Zack didn’t mind too much.

     Sami moved to his front with a pocket torch in hand, and shone it into his eyes checking for concussion. Zack stared back at the pretty woman with shoulder length raven hair and glasses over her bright blue eyes. She had just turned thirty, and had worked at the hospital in the nearby town of Tinchester since completing her medicine degree. She had met his uncle at a party shortly afterwards. At first Zack had thought she would become more than just friends, but they both seemed happy with their current relationship.

     “Ok Zack, you’ll live,” Sami announced. “The cut isn’t that deep and there’s no sign of concussion. You’ll be fine for school.”

     “Just my luck,” Zack muttered, suddenly remembering his unfinished English homework due in today.

     Amy gave a frustrated huff and put her phone into her trouser pocket. “I’m going to brush my teeth” she announced, pushing her breakfast to the side. “I’m not hungry.”

    “Do you want any help with the lift sis?” Zack asked, before taking a bite out his slice of toast.

    “I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself thanks!” Amy snapped at him. She then pushed herself away from the table, revealing her wheelchair. She used it to wheel herself out of the kitchen to the staircase, where a specially fitted lift would transport her upstairs.

    Silence fell in the kitchen for a moment, broken by Sami saying, “She seems in a bad mood today...I mean worse than usual.”

     “She’s split up with Luke again” said Becca.

     “Again?” Zack exclaimed. “Are those two going for a world record number of break ups or something?”

     Sami took a sip of her coffee before placing it on the table with a loud clunk. “Maybe I should go see if she’s alright. You let me know if you feel any different Zack.” With that she also walked out the kitchen to join Amy in the bathroom.

    As soon as she had left Becca turned to Zack and said, “Seriously, are you really feeling ok?”

    “Why do you keep asking? Have my natural good looks been spoiled in any way?” Zack joked.

    “I saw you fall head over heels down a flight of stairs. A lot of people don’t walk away from something like that, but you don’t get a scratch. How do you do it?”

    Zack gave a shrug. “Guess I’m just one of the lucky ones” he remarked, before taking another bite out of his toast.  

     

    “You mean to tell me you almost broke your neck this morning?”

    “Yep.”

    “And you then decide to come into school as if nothing had happened?”

    “Bit difficult to skive when you’re being looked after by a professional doctor mate.”

   Zack’s friend Andy stared at him with a look that was a mix of amazement and confusion. “Yeah I know, but a knock on the head is nothing compared to what Hodgson will do to you when you don’t hand in your project.”

    “Let me guess, you two geniuses didn’t complete your English homework again?” said someone else’s voice. They both turned to see their two other friends Lucy and Christina taking their seats at the school desk behind them. Lucy had the blondest hair in a fifty mile radius, but coupled this by being one of the smartest girls in Zack’s year with the sheer determination to go with it. Christina was a bright redhead with freckles covering her face, and had a wicked sense of humour. She had made the remark about their homework. Together with Zack and Andy, they formed one of the tightest groups of friends in the entire school. They had lived in the same village all their lives and had all been born only a month apart from each other.

     Andy, a mixed race teen with an African-American dad, simply pulled his hands behind his head and replied, “I actually did complete it this time. Whether or not Hodgson likes it or not is the real problem.”

     “Oh my God what did you do to your head?” Lucy gasped, seeing the blood stains in Zacks hair.

     “I kind of fell down the stairs this morning,” Zack told her.

    “That’s it? I would have at least expected a half baked story about how you saved a small child from being hit by a car or something,” Christina sniggered. She seemed to be finding his injury hilarious.

     Lucy acted a lot more sympathetically. “Are you feeling ok? Have you been to the hospital or...”

      “Lucy this is Zack we’re talking about. He’s the only teenager in the universe who can crack his head open and then feel ok for school,” said Andy.

     “As much as I’m enjoying all your attention, you guys shouldn’t worry about me. I feel just fine” Zack told them.

     Lucy smirked at Zack while raising her right eyebrow, which she always did when she was engaging with his banter. “You are one weird boy you know that?”

    “One of a kind,” Zack joked back.

     Before they could continue their conversation, Mr Hodgson walked into the classroom and hushed the teenagers. Whatever slim hope Zack had that he might forget about their homework faded almost instantly when he began they lesson by announcing they would read out their analysis of Hamlet in alphabetical order. With the surname Anderton it was almost inevitable Zack would be first up.

     “Ok Zack, what’s your excuse this time?” Hodgson asked the instant he realised Zack didn’t have the work with him.

     “Well sir, I sort of fell down the stairs this morning and suffered a serious, and painful, head injury.” The class gave a collective snigger, wondering just how he was going to get away with it this time.

    “So you failed to bring in your week long assignment, on the basis that you banged your head this morning?” said Hodgson

    “I had it ready sir, but in all the confusion this morning I left my folder at home on my desk.” Zack felt quite pleased with his excuse. It was foolproof.

     “Zack you’ve got your folder lying on the desk in front of you,” Hodgson pointed out.

    The class roared with laughter. Zack caught a glimpse of both Andy and Christina giggling madly. Lucy simply rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

    Hodgson didn’t seem to see the funny side of it. Zack knew his english teacher was beginning to run out of patience with him. He wasn’t a disruptive pupil, or a badly behaved one, but he had gained a reputation as a smart aleck who always did his best to outsmart the teachers.  “Do we have to go through this every week Zack?” Hodgson asked in exasperation.

     “Well when discussing Shakespeare’s representation of the relationship between a mother and a son actually comes in use during my life, I’ll buy you a chocolate bar sir,” Zack replied.

    “This isn’t funny Anderton” Hodgson barked. “I want that project on my desk first thing tomorrow morning if you don’t want detention. You have real intelligence and potential inside your head, just like your father, which is why it’s such a shame that you don’t seem to have any intention of using it.”

    Forty minutes later as they filed out of the classroom Lucy said to Zack, “Maybe next time you should try to hand your work in on time.”

     “Or come up with a better excuse,” suggested Andy.

     “Bit unfair Hodgson always compares you to your dad though Zack,” said Christina.

     “Well having a dad who was the most famous scientist since Einstein does heighten the expectations of teachers a tad,” Andy pointed out.

     “Doesn’t mean Zack is going to be a world famous scientist though,” Christina argued.    

     Zack didn’t say anything. He didn’t like talking about his dad or his mum, on the basis that they had been killed seven years ago. They had been driving to see his uncle, his parents in the front with him and his sisters in the back. He didn’t exactly remember how it happened, but sometimes it returned to him in his dreams. There was a loud bang, causing the car to swerve violently. He could hear his sisters screaming, see his dad desperately trying to maintain control, but he was powerless to stop the car from skidding off of the road and down a grass bank. The last thing he would see was the tree trunk looming ahead through the windscreen. There would be another bang and then he would wake up.

      The only thing he remembered for certain was waking up in the hospital with his uncle at his bedside, his eyes bloodshot from the sleepless hours he had spent by his bedside. He then learnt that his parents had died on impact. Both Becca and himself had been miraculously unhurt, but Amy had suffered a serious spinal injury. She was told she would never walk again, and would be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of her life. Their uncle became their legal guardian, and moved with them into their family home in the village of Oakdale, where they had lived the past seven years in peace.

     Lucy noticed the distanced look in his eyes and quickly changed the subject. “We going to the brook tonight?”

    “Yeah I’m in!” Zack replied, snapping back to reality.

    “Oh shouldn’t you go home and work on your English project” Christina tutted.

    “I’ll head home do a bit of work on it first, so how does six sound for you guys?” said Zack. His three friends made general noises of approval, and as the bell rang for the next lesson they split up to go to their separate classrooms.

    Zack’s house was located at the far end of Oakdale, facing the only road running through the village and surrounded at the back by large oak trees. The house was a two floor red brick cottage with a thatched roof and small front garden filled with rose bushes. The interior consisted of a low ceilinged kitchen with a red tiled floor, a conjoined living and dining room and four decent sized bedrooms upstairs for each of the family members.    

    After returning home Zack went to his bedroom and closed the door behind him. Taking his tie off as fast as possible, he slung it to the floor and made his way to his wardrobe. Selecting a red T-shirt and a pair of jeans he changed out of his uniform and took a seat at his desk. He cleared himself a space from all the scrap paper and chocolate wrappers spread over the tabletop and, and in it placed his English folder. Yet he couldn’t summon the energy to begin working, and instead reclined against his seat lost in thought.

    Lucy was right; he really should start working harder at school and stop being so lazy. But the truth was that school bored him. He tried to concentrate and put the effort in, but before long he would find his mind wandering away. It was like he had an itch in his mind, the more he tried to ignore it the more irritated it became. He couldn’t explain it, but he had had it for as long as he could remember. Some sort of voice trapped inside him, egging him on, constantly reminding him that there was more to life than school and homework.

    His eyes flickered over to the picture on his desk of him and his parents. It had been taken on a warm summer day just before the accident, at a barbeque for family and friends. His uncle had been the one to take the picture, and it showed him with his mum on his left, and his dad on his right. It was his favourite picture of his parents, reminding them of what life was like when they were still alive. Sometimes he could still hear his mum calling him down for lunch, picture his dad emerging from his lab in the basement to announce he had bought cinema tickets for that afternoon. Zack wouldn’t say those were the happiest memories of his life as his life now was happy enough, but they were good memories that almost seemed a lifetime away.

   In the background of the picture, chasing his old dog Poppy around a tree trunk was Amy, free from her wheelchair. With her was the daughter of another family who used to live in the village. Saphia was a girl Zack’s age, and they had seen each other all the time when Zacks parents were alive. She had always been quite an odd girl, as her hair had been coloured a deep, radiant blue. He had never asked her why her parents dyed her and their own hair this colour, and never got the chance as her family moved away shortly after the accident. Despite being a little weird she had been a good childhood friend, and while looking at the photo Zack often wondered what Saphia was up to now.

     Giving a sigh he picked up a pen and opened his folder. As he worked he completely lost track of time, and he only realised that it was six when he got a text from Andy, saying they were waiting outside. Grabbing his phone Zack abandoned his project and bounded out into the hallway. “Where are you going?” Amy shouted at him from her bedroom.

    “Just out with the others for a bit,” Zack told her.

    “Oh no you don’t. Sami will be back with the Chinese in a bit.”

    “I’ll only be half an hour. Don’t eat all the prawn crackers if I’m late.”

    “God I hate you!” Amy bellowed after him as he bounded down the staircase. Her comment didn’t bother him. She said she hated him about three times a day, and that was when she was in a good mood. Taking extra care not to fall this time, he opened the front door and stepped out into the early summer sunshine.  

Copyright Michael Foster 2012

The Renegades - Opening Chapter, Second Draft

Here's a slightly reworked version of the Prologue for my book 'The Renegades.' It's basically the same story as before, just tidier and more concise. Enjoy.


 

The alarm rang out into the night over the rooftops of London. People in the nearby houses woke up groggily at the sound of its high-pitched whine, but when it stopped a few seconds later it didn’t take them long to return to sleep. However, it had presented an entirely new set of problems for the robbers that had activated it.

    “I thought you’d shut down the alarms,” the group leader hissed at his subordinate.

     “Only the ones I know about. That alarm wasn’t on the building plan,” the subordinate hissed back, beginning to sweat underneath his balaclava.

     “Just get this thing open,” the leader replied, shining his torch at the large metal door. His subordinate nodded and placed a circular device over an electronic keypad at the door’s side. He pressed some buttons and a small blue screen lit up as thousands of possible combinations of numbers flashed past.

     His leader kept on staring at the safe’s door with greedy intent. Once he had possession of its contents he could retire, and with enough money to last the rest of his life. Years of small time bank jobs and hiding from the police had finally paid off. After this final job he could put his life of crime behind him and buy himself a large villa somewhere hot and out of the way. Maybe he could bag a pretty young lady or two.

      They had planned this operation meticulously, watching the research centre for weeks to learn the routines of its employees. Having picked the night where they would encounter the least resistance, they cut off the building’s main power supply before restraining the security guards and a few late working researchers. Only then could they begin breaking into the safe, in which lay the object they were being paid a large amount of money to retrieve.

      The device gave a loud chirp as it completed its task, followed by a loud clunk as the safe unlocked. Moving forward slowly, as if he would wake up a monster lurking behind the metal door, the leader grasped the circular handle and began turning it like the wheel of a ship. It was stiff and obviously not opened very often. There was another clunking sound. As he pulled the handle back the door slowly swung open. The two robbers picked up their torches and moved inside.

     The interior was filled with shelves and drawers, on which sat numerous files and paperwork. The two crooks ignored these and continued to search the rest of the interior. Eventually the light from their torches fell onto a metal briefcase lying on a shelf. When they saw it they both gave relieved smiles.

      Picking up his radio from his belt, the leader said into it, “We have the case. How are our hosts?”

      In a different part of the building his second accomplice answered, “Oh they’re just fine. They don’t seem to mind too much that we’ve outstayed our welcome.” She smiled at the six people lying at her feet with their hands and feet bound with tape, and more strips covering their mouths.

    She cackled happily as she looked around the darkened laboratory, filled with computers and tables she had overturned just for the heck of it. She fiddled with a strand of blonde hair protruding from under her balaclava, before she began reloading the rifle she was holding.

    The hostages began murmuring fretfully and squirmed against their bonds. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist. If I was going to shoot you I’d have done it ages ago” she taunted.

     Suddenly there was the sound of breaking glass. She raised her gun and looked about the room. The light from the torch attached to the end of her rifle found nothing, the only movement coming from her restrained prisoners. “If whoever made that noise doesn’t show up, my trigger finger might get itchy,” she shouted into the darkness. She got no reply. She began inching forward, her eyes straining to see any sign of movement. “Don’t think I won’t do it! I ain’t exactly little miss sunshine.”

     “Who are you talking to?” a voice spoke from behind her. She whirled around in alarm and came face to face with her two colleagues, the leader clasping the briefcase tightly.

     “I think we’ve got a snoop somewhere nearby,” she told them.

     “You mean that shattering glass wasn’t you?” the male accomplice asked.

     “Why would I go about breaking windows, you idiot?”

     “Ssssssshhh,” their leader hushed. They heard a door opening and the patter of footsteps down a nearby corridor. They instinctively drew closer to each other. This hadn’t been part of the plan. They had made sure to cover all areas of the building and had found nobody but those already taken hostage. This meant that whoever was making those noises had only just arrived.

     “I don’t suppose it could be...have you heard those rumours...?” the male accomplice stammered nervously.

       “Bit old for fairy stories aren’t you?” the female accomplice muttered at him.  

      “Shut up,” the leader barked as the footsteps returned, closer than before. Suddenly the lights in the room were turned up, momentarily dazzling everyone. Only after their eyes had readjusted did they see the teenage boy standing in the doorway.

      He was tall and muscular with unkempt blond hair. But what amazed everyone was that he wore a suit of armour, with boots on his feet and brown gauntlets over his hands. He was holding a shining, silver shield and a sword that sparkled in the light. Staring at the crooks with a defiant stare he said “You villains fight with no honour!”

      A couple of seconds passed in silence, before the crooks burst into laughter at the sight of him. “Get a reality check kid. This isn’t the Battle of Hastings,” the female accomplice spluttered.

      The boy ignored them. “I do not wish you to force my hand. Leave now, or you leave me no other option!”

     “Come off it,” the male accomplice snickered. “What are you going to do, joust us?”

     The boy gave a wry smile. He pointed the tip of his sword at them and closed his eyes, concentrating intensely. The looks on the crooks faces changed from mirth to astonishment as the sword began glowing a bright blue, bathing the room in its fierce light. They could only watch as the boy pulled back his sword behind his head and swung it vertically downwards. A ray of light shot out of the blade in their direction. It passed straight through the tables standing in its way, slicing them clean in half. The three crooks dove to the floor as it hit the wall behind them, cutting its way through.

       Suddenly more scared then she had ever felt before, the female accomplice grabbed her rifle, got to her feet and took aim. “Don’t even think of trying that again!” she bellowed.

      Now it was the boy who was laughing. “Take your best shot, young wench” he taunted as he raised his shield, also glowing in the same blue light. Not wanting to give him another chance she fired.  The bullets did not reach their target; they simply rebounded off an aura surrounding the boy’s shield. The female accomplice could only watch in horror as the bullets fell harmlessly to the floor.

      “How did you do that?’ the leader uttered in disbelief.

       “If you find my abilities impressive, wait until you see those of my comrades,” the boy replied mysteriously. Some of the hostages began screaming into the tape covering their mouths. The leader turned to see them staring at the windows, and when he looked he cried out in shock.

      Through the glass was a teenage girl, dressed in a long sleeved top, skirt, tights and boots that were all coloured a vibrant purple. The top part of her face was covered by a mask that looked like it had been made out of ivy, and similar strands of plants entwined about her body and through her purple coloured hair. This was nothing, however, to the pair of gigantic, brightly coloured butterfly wings on her back, which she flapped effortlessly to maintain her position, floating in mid-air three floors above the ground.

      The girl gave a happy wink at the stunned spectators. From her hands purple bolts of electricity fizzed towards the window. A hole appeared in the centre of the glass, growing in size until it was big enough for the girl to fly through. Once she had passed into the room the hole shrank until it sealed itself shut, the glass pane completely undamaged. As she landed elegantly she said, “Don’t suppose you’ve seen many teenagers do that before?”

       This was too much for the criminals, and they scurried towards a fire escape in the corner. The girl waited until they had almost reached it, before sending more bolts of purple electricity at a fire hose hanging on the wall. None of the crooks saw the hose slowly begin to unravel itself, as if it had a life of its own. The female accomplice only became aware of it when it wrapped itself around her shoulders down to her ankles, sending her crashing to the floor. The other two paused briefly, before barging through the door.

     “Come back you cowards!” The female accomplice shrieked as she wriggled against her bonds, but found herself unable to escape.

    A pair of purple boots walked into her line of sight. “How do you like being the one all tied up then?” the girl asked her.

    “You really think two kids can take on three professional criminals?” the woman spat.

   “Who says there are only two of us?” the girl remarked casually.

    The two remaining crooks ran down a metal staircase clinging to the side of the building, normally reserved for emergencies. It led them into an empty courtyard surrounded by high brick walls, which was filled with delivery trucks during the day, but was now empty. The only light came from their torches and the orange glow of streetlights over the far wall.

     “Oh dear God, what do we do?” the male accomplice fretted. “It’s them, it really is them!”

     “Just shut up will you!” The leader paused to catch his breath. “We just need to find a way over the wall to the car and we’ll be fine!”

      The male accomplice fell silent, frantically looking about him, trying to find a way of escaping. His eyes travelled all the way up to the building’s roof, where he saw the outline of another person standing on it. He gave a panicked yelp, as the sound of a gun-shot echoed around him as the outline fired a sphere of green light.

   The leader pulled the male accomplice out of the way just as the light orb hurtled past, colliding with the tarmac and disappearing in a puff of smoke. “What are you trying to do, kill us?” the leader bellowed, trying to sound as defiant as possible.

      “Actually, that was an electro-magnetic pulsar, designed to send an electrical message through the nervous system to the subjects brain with the intent of causing unconsciousness!” the figure replied, moments before leaping off the roof. The figure landed on its feet with a loud thump, then drew itself up to its full height, completely unhurt.

      It was clad in a suit of metal armour that covered every part of its body. The thin metal plates covering its torso were coloured a deep black, as was the helmet which completely encased its head, save for a red tinted visor and a small slit for its mouth. Mounted on its shoulders was what resembled a pair of cannons, barrels glowing a gentle green whilst aimed on the two crooks.

      The leader pulled out his pistol from his belt and said, “Don’t come any closer, or I swear I’ll...”

     “Fire your gun and watch the bullets bounce off my titanium infused armour?” the figure replied, its voice unmistakably that of a girl and sounding like it was speaking through a microphone. “Sorry, but that’s not going to work on me, or my teammate for that matter.”

     “What teammate?”

     Immediately there came a crashing sound from behind them. They whirled around and saw that a massive hole had been punched in the wall, throwing bricks and dust into the courtyard. Through the debris stepped another teenage boy, who had evidently just smashed his way through. He was tall and bulky, and only wore a pair of jeans revealing the top half of his body. His skin seemed to glint in the low light, and as he stepped closer the two crooks realised that this was because his skin, from his bare feet all the way up to his face, was made out of jagged white diamonds fused together. His feet clunked against the tarmac as he moved forward, and he gave a brilliant smile which literally sparkled at them.

     “I’ve got a question for you guys,” the boy said in a deep voice. “On a scale of one to ten, just how cool am I? Be honest now.”

       Panicking, the two men took off in different directions. The boy yelled, “Bit old for tag aren’t you guys?” before setting after the male accomplice. The girl raised her arm, as a small cannon emerged from the armour around her forearm. She fired, and the male accomplice stumbled as wires wrapped tightly around his legs, sending him to the floor. He was picked up by his neck and hoisted off the floor by the diamond boy. He thrashed and kicked but the boy’s grip was unbreakable, holding him as if he were some sort of ragdoll.

     “Please,” he spluttered in terror, “don’t hurt me. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

     “Tough” said the boy with a smirk on his face. “You should have thought about the possibility of being stopped by a band of super powered teenagers before you broke the law.”

     “His boss escaped through your hole in the wall,” said the armoured girl.

     The diamond boy didn’t look too upset. “It’s not like he’s going to get far, is it?”            

      The leader was now running down a deserted alleyway. It emerged onto a small residential road and he saw the getaway car parked on the pavement. He felt a warm, encouraging relief flowing through him. He was still clasping the briefcase tightly, and with the other two out of the picture he could now claim all the money for himself. He stopped and looked about him, and when he was sure the coast was clear he ran towards the car faster than he had ever run before.

     He was only metres away when a ball of fire fell from the sky onto the car. There was a blinding flash as the car was engulfed by flame. The force of the following explosion pushed the leader onto his back and made his ears ring. Time seemed to pause as he lay on the pavement in a daze.

    “I hope your insurance was up to date on that.”

     The leader looked up and saw another teenage boy standing over him, wearing a jet-black hoodie and a pair of dark trousers and boots. His clothes were padded in a way similar to bullet proof vests, and his hood was up over his head. Only the bottom half of his face was visible, the rest of it hidden by a black mask that covered his face from the mouth upwards, with slots only for his eyes.

      The leader had dropped his gun during the blast, and turning he saw it resting just out of his grasp. The boy saw him looking and said “you won’t be needing that.” He held out his hand. An orb of fire appeared hovering in his outstretched palm. The boy casually flicked the fireball to where the gun lay. There was a fierce crackling followed by an acrid burning smell. When the fire orb disappeared the leader gawped at his gun, now half melted and welded to the ground.

      The leader looked back up and watched as the boy in the hoodie was joined by the purple haired girl, the blond knight, the girl in the armour and the diamond boy, forming a tight circle around him. He could only stare back at them, knowing full well that he had been beaten.

      “Are his friends sorted out?” the boy in the hoodie asked his comrades.

      “All restrained and accounted for” the blond knight replied, sounding thoroughly pleased with himself.

      “We should do the same with this guy. I’ve intercepted police transmissions saying they’re on their way here” the armoured girl announced.

      “Wait,” the leader croaked. “How did...you do that. Who...are you?”

      “Well I’m Nymph,” replied the purple haired girl.

      “Sir Matthew at your service,” boasted the blond knight.

       “I’m Cybergirl,” said the armoured girl.  

       “You can just call me Diamond,” the diamond boy grinned.

       “And I’m Fireflash,” the hoodie boy concluded, “and when the police arrive, tell them you were caught by the Renegades!”

I'm alive.

Dusting off this blog now that a very manic period of my life is over and done with. It's about to get even more manic, with a possible house move on the horizon. But I've spent my free time productively, and am currrently putting the final touches to my second draft of 'the Renegades.' I will return to my other childrens story once it is completed, in between some short stories I'm putting forward for some competitions, some of which I will be posting very soon. Stay tuned everyone. 

Renegades Chapter 1

Here's another chapter from the Renegades. It was originally going to be chapter 2, but now I've decided to make it the first one, with either the previous chapter 1 moving to chapter 3, or becoming the prologue. I'm trying to decide where it would be best served right now, so elements in this chapter will probably shift around either way.

Anyhoo, here we see main protagonist Sophie being driven to her new school on her first day, and she ain't exactly happy about it...

1 – First Day

Sophie Austen let her head fall against the car window with a soft thump, watching the water droplets speed past along the glass as the car accelerated away from the traffic lights. The rain became heavier as it beat against the windshield with a hypnotic drone. She sighed as her eyes flickered to the clock on the dashboard. Half past eight. Only thirty minutes to go now.

     “Isn’t London a wonderful city?” her Mum asked as she increased the speed of the windscreen wipers. Sophie didn’t reply, instead staring glumly out at the rain soaked suburbs passing by. She watched as the pedestrians on the pavement wrestled with umbrellas and skipped around puddles. As they stopped at another set of traffic lights they drew level with a car being driven by a man taking his three young children to school. The children were laughing as their Dad pulled funny faces at them in the mirror. Sophie could only watch enviously as the Dad then deliberately revved his car’s engine pretending to be a racing driver, causing his children to laugh even more. Then the light changed to green and their car turned to the left whilst her Mum accelerated forward, the family leaving Sophie’s world as fast as they had entered it.

     “Do you like your new uniform?” her Mum asked brightly, once again trying to start a conversation.

    “It’s green” Sophie grunted, eyeing the sickly green blazer, green and white striped tie, dull grey skirt and opaque green tights. She much preferred the bright red sweatshirt and comfortable black trousers she had worn at her old school.

    “Well I think you look very pretty” her Mum told her. “I’m sure there will be plenty of boys at the academy who will think so too.”

    Sophie rolled her eyes and gave an obvious tut to show that she disapproved of this remark. She pulled down the sun visor and slid open the mirror to check her makeup. She stared up at the fourteen year old reflected back at her and attempted to figure out which parts of her face she could improve. From the schoolbag at her feet she pulled out some black coloured eyeliner and applied it liberally around the tops of her hazel eyes. She next began covering her lips in gloss, trying to make them as shiny as possible. For a final touch she swept at her fringe so her dark, shoulder length black hair was almost falling into her eyes. It had not always been black. She had dyed it this colour a week before the move, much to her Mum’s disapproval. Sophie found that she wasn’t happy with the deep brunette hair she shared with her parents anymore. She had spent twenty minutes straightening it this morning so it fell in such a way that it covered the sides of her face. 

       Her Mum glanced over at her with a look of disapproval. “You really don’t need that much makeup on” she pointed out. Sophie didn’t reply. She flicked the visor back up, slouched into her seat and returned to gazing out the window at the shops and houses passing by. The rain was coming down even harder now and the window was splashed with water as they drove through a large puddle.

      Her Mum gave a long sigh as she tried to come up with another way of communicating with her daughter. “How about we put the radio on?” she suggested, but didn’t wait for an answer as she began fiddling with the dial on the dashboard. A couple of seconds later the car was filled with the dull voice of a newsreader.

   This got Sophie’s attention immediately.  “Do we have to listen to this?” she moaned. “Can’t we listen to Galaxia FM instead?”

    “I have no idea why you insist on listening to that awful station” her Mum insisted.

    “Because it’s actually good, that’s why” Sophie retorted.

   Her Mum, however, wasn’t giving in. “Honestly Sophie you should really broaden your horizons a little more. It wouldn’t hurt you to be more aware of what is going on in the world around you.”

     Sophie turned her head back to the window. “Dad lets me listen to Galaxia FM” she muttered.

    Her Mum began to drum her fingers on the steering wheel, which she always did when she was angry. ‘Yes, well, I’m not your Dad am I?’ she said slowly and deliberately.

     Sophie knew there was no point continuing the argument. Besides she was sick of fighting and could tell her Mum was as well. Instead they sat in silence as they turned off the dual carriageway and onto a single lane street creeping slowly uphill. They were flanked by red brick buildings on either side and the only other cars on the road were those parked up on the pavement. Sophie knew she would become very accustomed to this road so she didn’t bother to look outside anymore. Instead she closed her eyes and let the words of the newsreader wash over her.

      “...key witness was found dead in their hotel room. Police are continuing with their investigations, but suspect they died of natural causes. In other news, crime figures throughout the capital have decreased to their lowest level in fifteen years, as rumours of a band of masked vigilantes continue to gain strength...”

     “For goodness sake” Sophie’s Mum suddenly exclaimed as she listened to the report, as much to herself as to her daughter. Sophie turned her head towards the radio, as she too began listening to the news report.

    “The number of sightings of this group, known only as ‘the Thunderbolts’, have increased over the past three months, with more sightings being reported last night. According to witnesses, some girls were being mugged by a gang when they were stopped by five masked figures. Reportedly one was a girl with butterfly wings on her back, another a teenage boy wielding a sword and shield. The girls were unharmed but are currently being treated for post traumatic stress. The Police and officials remain sceptical that such a band of apparent super heroes exists, however rumours began...”

     Sophie’s Mum gave a long drawn out sigh. “As if the news wasn’t watered down as it is. Real life isn’t good enough for them now, so they have to go making up stories instead.”

      “Who says these Thunderbolts aren’t actually real?” Sophie remarked without opening her eyes.

     “Surely you can’t believe there are a gang of crime fighting children running about London who wear hoodies to hide their faces?”

     “I wear hoodies. What’s wrong with wearing them?”

      Once again her Mum began drumming her fingers. “You know what I’m getting at, you aren’t stupid. And all this nonsense about having superpowers. How can people in this day and age honestly believe there are children with the ability to shoot fire from their arms?”

     “You always told me that part of being a good scientist was to keep your mind open to new ideas” Sophie remarked idly, but her comment finally caused her Mum to snap.

     “Oh will you stop acting like a smug little smart-alec” she barked loudly, as her momentary lapse in concentration caused her to inadvertently lurch the car forward. “You don’t care about these Thunderbolts. All you care about is trying to prove me wrong and I’m sick of it!”

     Sophie opened her mouth to dispute this, but again decided not to continue the argument. Her Mum was wrong about the Thunderbolts though. She had followed the activities of this mysterious group ever since they had begun to make headlines. She had even joined Thunderbolt fan clubs on the internet in an attempt to learn more about them. She was secretly pleased by the thought that a gang of teenagers were making a stand against problems that should have been sorted out years ago. She wondered if that was why so many people didn’t like them, because they were making everyone else look bad.

    They turned into a road with a long metal railing on the left hand side, over which towered a line of grand oak trees, their leaves beginning to turn a light shade of yellow as autumn approached. Through the metal rails and trees was a vast playing field at the foot of a small hill, on which stood a set of newly built brick buildings. When she saw them Sophie felt her stomach twist into a nervous knot. They had finally arrived at the Grant Academy, her new school. It had only been built three years ago, funded entirely by Peter Grant in order to aid exceptional teenagers in achieving their potential. Sophie had been offered a place after her Mum took a new job working for Grant Industries, though that was nothing special. Many of the pupils here had parents working for Grant Industries.

     Just ahead a line of cars were waiting to turn up a pristine tarmac driveway leading to the academy. Instead of joining them her Mum found a gap in the cars parked on the pavement and nestled their car into it. Neither of them said a word as her Mum turned off the ignition and reclined against her seat with a sigh. A group of girls about Sophie’s age and dressed in the same uniform ran past, laughing madly as they attempted to protect their hair by covering it with their bags. The rain had now turned into a light drizzle but large droplets were falling from the sodden trees onto the parked car with heavy clunks.

    “I’m sorry I snapped Sophie” her Mum said to her, sounding as weary as she now looked. “I understand this is a big day for you. But you’re not the only one having to start again. I had to take this job. It’s so much better than what I had in York.”

    “Good for you” Sophie grunted.

    “It’s better paid, I get more funding and best of all I’m in control of my own research team. Plus I get more time off to spend with you.”  Sophie ignored her; her Mum had used these reasons countless times already. None of them had convinced her before and they didn’t convince her now. “Oh please try to understand” her Mum pleaded, now sounding quite desperate. “This is our chance for a fresh start, to put our old life behind us. I did this for us.”

     Sophie didn’t bother to look at her as she picked up her bag from the floor. “You didn’t do this for us” she growled angrily. “You did this for yourself!” With that she opened the door, stepped out into the rain soaked street and kicked the door shut with her foot.

     She could hear her Mum shouting her name through the glass but pretended not to hear her as she stormed off towards the driveway. She made the decision not to look back, but when she reached the entrance she found that she could not help herself. Her Mum did not see her looking. She was resting her head against the back of the seat with her eyes closed. Sophie suddenly felt a pang of guilt. She wasn’t the only person to have left her entire life behind her. Her Mum was also leaving a city she had grown up in, as well as the friends and family who lived there. In many ways their situations were identical.

     Her parent’s marriage had been breaking down for years. She had almost got used to listening to their arguments from her bedroom in the middle of the night, trying to block their angry screams by covering her head in her pillow. And then the following morning she would come down for breakfast to see them treading on eggshells, pretending that nothing was wrong. 

      Years of frustration and pain came to a dramatic conclusion at her thirteenth birthday party. In front of her family, school friends and a restaurant full of people they had both exploded. Her Mum accused her Dad of fooling about with other women; her Dad accused her Mum of being a manipulative witch with no grasp on reality. The argument eventually turned violent with both families becoming involved, and ultimately the police were called. Sophie could not forget how intensely embarrassed she had felt as she sat beside a pile of unopened presents while the argument raged around her, unable to prevent the tears from streaming down her face.  She had never forgiven her parents for that day and doubted she ever would. Two days later her Mum had filed for divorce. Three months after that a Judge had granted it.

     After her Dad had moved out Sophie had hoped that would draw a line under the whole affair. All she wanted was to live a normal life without the shadow of her parents break-up hanging over her. However six months later her Mum announced she had been offered a job in London and that she was going to take it. This time her Dad had not been the only one to voice his opposition. Sophie had made it clear from the start that she hated the thought of moving away from the city she had lived in her entire life. Ultimately however her Mum won. A week after her fourteenth birthday the removal vans arrived and began to pack up her belongings for the journey south. Her Dad had promised to come and visit once a month, but he had yet to make his first visit.

    Sophie did not go up the driveway immediately; instead she rested against a large iron gate flanking the entrance. Ignoring the cars driving past and water droplets falling on her from the trees, she gazed up at where she would spend the next four years of her life.  She could now see more red brick buildings behind those visible from the road. Between these buildings and the playing fields was the tarmac school courtyard, which was largely empty save for small groups of pupils huddled in its corners chatting idly. She watched miserably as a gang of them walked past her as though she was invisible. One boy in particular caught her eye, with jet black hair ruffled up with wax, a bag slung casually over his shoulder and surrounded by a large group of pupils laughing at some joke he had just told.

     She closed her eyes and thought back to the life she had left behind. She began to picture her old secondary school in her mind, thinking of all the people she had grown up with and who would be starting their new term without her. There had been many tearful goodbyes on her last day, with everyone promising to keep in touch and visit in the holidays. However deep down Sophie knew it would never be the same. Texting and Facebook messaging were not the same as seeing them every day. Soon everyday life would get in the way and they would forget about her.

     She wondered if she could have done more to prevent all this from happening. Maybe if she had been brave enough to intervene in her parent’s arguments she would still be in York preparing for a regular school day.  Everyone, her grandparents, her friends and her teachers, had told her repeatedly that none of it was her fault. That didn’t stop her from feeling guilty. Maybe things would have worked out differently if she had told her parents how she was feeling. Maybe they would have made more of an effort to work things out. However all she was now left with was a list of regrets, and a life that would change forever whether she wanted it to or not.

     She looked back and saw that her Mum’s car had disappeared, and then taking a breath she began to sullenly walk up the driveway.

     She was so wrapped up in thought she did not see the boy with waxed jet black hair watching her. Neither did she see him take his phone out of his pocket and text the message ‘she’s here.’ He quickly sent it before anybody realised he had his phone out, before he resumed telling his joke to the group surrounding him, acting like nothing had ever happened.  

Lovely weather for ducks

Sitting at my computer watching the rain splatter against the windows. No, that's not my opening line for a Mills and Boon novel, it actually sums up my situation quite nicely. The bad weather meant that yesterday we only had 28 tables in the courtyard cafe over the course of the entire day (yes I counted, I was that bored). Still, gave me plenty of time to think some things through and come up with some new ideas.

I felt like I hit a brick wall with the Renegades the other day, until I came up with a real hum dinger of an idea that changes things nicely. Means I've had to shake things round and edit things heavily, but I feel like it makes it a much better story. Above all else I'm looking forward to getting it done, so I can return to Alpha Squad with a fresh sense of purpose that the story needs. Still, Renegades should be alright for a first draft if I may say so myself. Although it probably won't be once some friends of mine cast their eagle eyes over it. But at least  feel like I'm making progress, which is a huge improvement over the past weeks for me.