A blog a day challenge - September

I don't know if I'll make it but September looks like it will be a busy month for me work wise and with family too (when is it not busy these days though)... I have decided (without too much thought) to attempt a blog post each day for the month of September.

Here is my post for day 1: SPRING HAS SPRUNG

What a gorgeous, sunny day greeted us for the first day of Spring 2016. A day off to enjoy with my darling girl (I'm on the evening shift at work, a short shift from 5 to 8 so we can offer library services to those who work 9 to 5 each day). After a few jobs around the town we popped into our local Maccas to finally try their Create Your Taste (build your own burger experience). Although this was nice and the staff were amazing the who experience left both my wife and I a touch frustrated we couldn't have all of our requests. I believe the Create Your Taste second time around will only be even better than our first crack.

The same happened last night with the new James Patterson Bookshots... I have seen a number of these hit the shelves at work and thought I would give one a go. I like Patterson's fast paced style and his description of grizzly crime mixed perfectly with loads of action. I gave The Hostage a go two nights ago and at 120 pages thought it would be over and done and I would be eager for more... Sadly I found the story dragged a bit around page 40 or so... I got to the end of chapter 11 (about half way) before I called it a night. The second half of the book though was typical Patterson until the end which, although it made sense it did not leave me eager to pick up the next Bookshot. Like Create Your Taste though I am certain I will give this series of books another crack.

Create Your Taste - 6/10

Bookshots 'The Hostage' - 7/10

The Dame Game

This is a short story idea that I came up with and started last year when we were visiting friends in Melbourne. Think LA Confidential or Dick Tracy... Hope you enjoy, please leave a comment (on Facebook if you like)...

THE DAME GAME

It was almost five, so close to knock off that I was tempted to steal those precious minutes and already call it a day. The name's Donald by the way, Donald Ronald PI. I'm in the mystery business, but for now my bread and butter has been coming from finding lost dogs, cats and the occasional bird, you know, the feathered kind. I needed some honey. Something to sweeten the monotony. That's when she walked in. Five foot two with shoulder length hair the colour of purity. She wore Goochy knockoffs and a cheap purfume but her legs went all the way up to her shoulders and then further still.

"Jonny!" she gasped, "Ya gotta help me!"
Johnathan Johnson had been the previous occupant of my shoebox office. He'd been a PI too until he met an on the job hazzard, cement shoes just his size. I'd asked Florence my secretary to update the details of the door but dogs, cats and birds hadn't been paying well and money was tight.

"Name's Donald Ronald, doll," I replied casually, "Whatever trouble your in I'm sure I can help."

The dame removed her Audrey Hepburn glasses and revealed a rainbow of blues and dark purples around one eye.

"Well mister Ronald," she started with a sigh. "It's about my brother..."

Two hours later I found myself in a yellow cab letting the drivers droan wash over me. The wipers rhymically danced across the windshield as the latest winter downpour fell with muddy fury from the heavens. I was thinking about the bottle of scotch hidden in the bottom draw of my desk in the den. I was in dire need of a shot before I wandered down Sixth and Rose to the pokey little library on the corner. If anywhere it would be there I'd find the info I needed to confirm the dame's tale. That place had a stacks the size of a city block and the old goat that ran it never threw anything away.

As the Central Square Clock chimed 9pm I waltzed into the Old Institute building which had been transformed into a half decent community center, pre-school and library combo as well as half a dozen other things as the community need it. The old bird on the door wearing a dirty-charcole cardigan and her whispy, white hair in a bun I immediately pegged as Library Governess. I purposefully avoided her steely gaze as I walked past her and nodded to show I'd heard when she screeched "Can't stay long son! We close by nine-thirty!"

'Lady,' I thought to myself with a grim smile, 'What I gotta do is gunna take all night.'

I didn't dare whisper a word though, those crazy library ladies guarded their workplaces like Templar's who'd found The Grail.Silently, I mooched my way to the darkened back corner of the old institute and slipped into a dusty nook of the stacks. It felt like days while I waited for the next half hour to pass. Finally though the spektor of a bibliophile hobbled about the shelves herding out the elderly, the homeless and the young families who'd gathered that wet, wintery evening. I was thankful for the librarian's ruthlessness as every last soul was prised from their seats and ejected into the storm still pummeling the streets.

"We've closed!" the ancient voice screeched just before all the lights extinguished and the door clicked shut.

I counted slowly back from two hundred and then a hundred more before I thought it safe to fish out my flashlight. The familiar thin beam flashed over bookstaves and numerals until I'd found the papers that would be the beginning of my search. After only a few hours of page flicking and article scanning I thought I'd located all the pieces of the puzzle. Now I just needed to work out how they fell together. So far I'd worked out that the dame's brother was Jimmy Four Fingers, aka Jimmy the Black Prince, aka The Black Prince of Brooklyn, aka all sorts of other alliases with funny sounding names. He was roumered to be tied up with drugs of all colours, racketeering and had also up on eight different murder charges but the boys in blue could never make anything stick. The name Nasty did not even begin to cover this guy. Jimmy was all sharp edges, dangerous with a capital D... The papers mentioned at least a dozen henchmen, each an expert at their own dasterdly deeds. Finally there was the matriarch, Madam Josephina, she'd taken the reigns off the family business after her hubby Franko mysteriously drowned at a massage parlour... The dame had me up to my eyeballs but I'd made a promise and that was gunna mean something.

The storm had eased to a dizzle as I left the library. My mind span the clues around and around as I passed between streetlights. Guns, gold and girls and the dame was in the thick of it. Her story rang true, the papers confirmed it. They also told me there was going to be a shipment tonight at midnight down at the local docks. I flagged the next yellow cab that tried to fly past me and almost smile as the same driver as before asked, "Where ya headed, Mac?"

It was eleven forty-five as the bright lights of the dock came into view. I paid the driver his dues and watched the yellow beast take off. Next I fed some pennies into the payphone and gave a call to my friend of the force.

"Gus!" I shouted down the line, "Have I got a nugget for you, but ya gotta hurry."

"Is that you D.R. where you at?" murmured Gus, he was probably in bed with his missus and I'd woken him.

"Just get down to the docks as quick as ya can," I urged. "I'll fill you in when you get here."

With the brass brigade on their way I cut a few fence wires and started the next stage of my investigation. My partner, a little Walther PPK was safely secure in an ankle hostler. I gave it a quick once over and found to my satisfaction it had a full clip and one in the chamber ready to go. It was then a matter of getting close enough to the action so I could snap some black and whites as the deal went down. Gus and his mates would appear a few moments later and the whole thing would be tied up neater than a store bought gift at Christmas time. Or so I'd hoped...

By midnight I could see three of the ten containers mentioned in the papers and a group of shady looking characters hanging around them. I counted at least three semi-automatics amongst the goons and guessed there would be so many more. My little pea shooter was no match for the arsenal before me so my only option was to hang back and watch. The first container was cracked and the merchandice marched out. I pitied the girls as they came out in twos and threes, bleary eyed at full of confusion. That would soon be replaced by gut twisting fear, but for the moment confusion was more than sufficient and a touch appropriate. A third of the dark suits vanished as the newly delivered sheep were herded into a couple of unmarked vans. Another of the guys disappeared as a forklift loaded his van with mysterious crates, packed solid from front to back I heard the groan as the van sank onto its axles, the crates obviously heafty. I hoped that Gus and his friends would be there in time to cut off all of those vans and rescue whatever and whoever was inside. It was then that I got the tap on the shoulder.

"What's going on?"

It was Gus. He looked like he was still in his pyjamas.

"Where is everyone else?" I whispered over my shoulder as I tried to show he hadn't suprised me.

"Who?" Gus asked with the same look of confusion I imagined on the faces of the girls from the container. "All I brought with me was this," my contact with the police force murmured waving in my face a chunky two handed blunderbus which was not standard issue.

"At least we've clawed one back on the spray and pray stakes," I murmured, still noticing how badly we were out numbered. "Did you catch the plates on those vans?"

"What vans? I found a hole in the fence and followed it to you..."

"Crates of guns, vans full of girls destined for the streets, I don't know what else is in those other containers..."

"My car's two blocks from here... Follow the van with the crates and when it gets to where its going call me..."

"Gus, you bailing on me and heading home?" I asked, disappointed.

"Not a chance chum! This might be my big break!" Gus announced. "I'm clocking on and headed to work early, you look like you need a hand..."

Gus' car was an old buick 69, a wildcat with an engine that purred. Behind that wheel I caught the van struggling with its load in no time flat. After that it was just a matter of hanging back and cruising. We left the docks far behind. As the van pulled up to the gates of an abandoned factory I knew we'd reached our destination. I needed to backtrack a mile or so to hunt down a phone. When I dialed Gus was right there on the other end.

"555 Ninety Archers Rise," I stated with surprising calm. "The ex tram factory."

"Thanks D.R.," Gus replied, excitement in his voice. "Sit tight. We'll pick you up from the diner."

"Gus, don't come alone..."

I hung up and settled in for a long wait and a few cups of coffee. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye I spied the dame. A 75 convertable corvette the same electric blue of her eyes and she was in the driver's seat speeding towards a date with trouble. I couldn't wait, I was her knight and Gus' buick was my armour.

By the time I'd paid the waitress and jumped behind the wildcat's wheel the corvette was nowhere to be seen. The road was straight though and I knew where the dame was headed. When the tram factory came back in sight again the gate was wide open, welcoming me in. There were a whole bunch of buildings I could choose to search first but there was only one with the lights on and a forklift outfront. To a PI that was like leaving a single piece out of a toddler's puzzle and asking if I knew what the picture was. The PPK was in my hand and the safety off before the engine on the buick died. Scanning the scene I spotted at least three black vans and the convertable. As I heard the building's entrance swing open my pea shooter was instantly trained on the dame's t die for features.

"Oh Donald! Thank the world of goodness you're here!" she purred. "What I need right know is a good man and from what I've seen you're one of the best."

"I've got the boys in blue on their way... Hop in and I'll take us back to the cafe... We'll leave it to the professionals," I assured the dame.

There was a moment of uncertainty, something cloudy behind those dark glasses but I was too far gone to see it for what it was.

"Sure," was all she said as she kissed me.

I was planning our wedding or at least out first date as I dropped dreamily into the wildcat's driver seat. I was brought back to earth like a lightning flash as my cuffs clicked around my wrists and the wheel.

"Thanks," she added brandishing my little pea shooter, loaded, leathal.

Then the dame disappeared.

I winced each time the PPK echoed, counted all eight shots and didn't breath until the dame appeared again. Two unmarked bags under each arm. Her glasses were gone, probably colatoral from the battle I hadn't seen. As she dropped the spent pistol in my lap I finally noticed the black eye from yesterday was gone.

"Amazing what you can do with makeup isn't it Donald Ronald, PI."

She'd taken the cash and stolen my heart. We were players in the Dame Game and she had played us all.

Australia really is story country

This week has been a very busy week at work as well as at home. We, like so many across Australia have been celebrating Children's Book Week... I am very proud of two things this month, both tied directly with Book Week. Firstly at work we have had on display in our foyer area a painting by a local aboriginal artist depicting community connections, the importance of the land and how we can all achieve so much by working together. If anything that is one story that should ring true. The painting is amazing (worth a look) and it is just so great to meet such a talented and passionate local artist. The second thing is the fun I got to have helping my daughter Miss 9 to transform herself into a jar of aussie Vegemite...

The school that my three kids are attending now had so many terrifically costumed kids parading around the basketball court (including a Man From Snowy River costume where the kid was riding a real horse!!!) with a good 75 to 80% of those costumes being handmade.

Once more I have also taken the opportunity and worked with the Aboriginal Projects Officer at my local council. We have had local Elders sharing stories and the local language, a great session with an Elder and one of the ladies from the Sudanese community and of course me sharing some of the great Australian authors and illustrators up for recognistion during this most important week in Australia's childrens' literature calendar...

Loving the creativity of Book Week... Wish it could be every week...

Angel's Wings

Here is one I started a little while ago but didn't have an end for. I've made a few slight edits but otherwise it is as it was. I tried to capture a young music artist at the beginning of fame and fortune. Please tell me what you think...

Angel’s Wings

Angelique heard the crunch of hot sand mingle with the deep base beat of the tune that blasted forth from her phone. The headphone buds she had picked up from the airport back home in America fed the latest track by artist Jay-Z direct to her ears, but still allowed the caw of the gulls above and the crunch of sneaker on sand to filter through. Angelique had the current song on repeat, trying to become intimate with the way the artist had constructed the rhyme and rhythm. She had to know this song by heart as the young girl had been selected personally by the famous rapper to duet on it with him. The deadline for her contribution to ‘Golden Ghetto Gone’ was looming fast. It was only two weeks before she recorded and Angelique still couldn’t understand why she was so far from her comforts of home, running along Bondi Beach in Sydney, Australia.

An hour later the young artist had finished her run and returned to her hotel.

“It must be pushing a hundred degrees out there,” muttered Angelique as she stepped out of the bathroom, her long blonde hair wrapped in a plush, white, Hilton branded towel.

“Well over a hundred, Angel,” answered Bob, Angelique’s manager, throwing her a large bottle of water.

“Whose crazy idea was it then that I flew down here?” Angelique answered back.

“Your Mom,” sighed Bob. “She thought with this Jay-Z thing coming up so early in your career it was a great opportunity to get you some sponsors.”

“That sounds just like Mom,” said Angelique, adding her own sigh and a frown. “The moment I launched as DJ Angel she was all over my branding.”

Bob shrugged his broad shoulders “I guess that happens when Mom has a business degree.”

“Guess so,” agreed the young singer, “Now get out of here while I get dressed!”

“Yes ma’am, Miss DJ Angel,” laughed Bob as the wet towel from Angelique’s hair was launched by the girl aimed at his head.

Bob caught the towel mid-flight and hung it on the back of the hotel room door as he left. Just before the door shut behind him he called back to the out of sight Angelique, “Don’t forget hun, Levi jeans, Oakley sunnies and that Red Bull shirt.”

“I know!” Angelique yelled back as the door clicked shut. “The sponsors are always watching.”

Alone in the room the young girl let the air-conditioning and the chilled water cool her down. It didn’t surprise Angelique to find the exact outfit listed by Bob laying out for her on the bed. Exhausted from the heat and her run the girl Angel fell back onto the clothes in her wet towel, with her wet hair, from her very soul emanated an audible groan.

“I love you Mom, but why Australia? Why New Years Eve? Why not somewhere cooler?”

Just then the phone wedged in a pocket of the blue jeans lit up and began playing a synthesized piece by Mozart. Angelique fished out the phone and checked the screen. It was a text from Bob: HOPE U DRESSED! PHOTOS IN 30 MIN. MEL 2DO HAIR & MAKEUP NOW!

Angelique threw the phone back onto the bed and let the towel drop to the floor. She slipped into her clothes in record time. As she was just finishing buttoning up the fly there came a brief knock at the door.

“Come!” called Angelique, knowing that Mel the make-up artist had her own key.

That was the beginning of a hectic afternoon. There was the photo shoot for Rolling Stone magazine, then an article for the Australian and the Sydney Herald, two newspapers that Angelique had never ever heard of. Finally Bob had organized a meet and greet with the guy from Guinness World Records.

“DJ Angel, it is both a pleasure and an honour to be able to attempt this record with such a talented new artist,” gushed Simon Steely, a guy who wore a horrid brown suit and sweated way too much.

‘Just take off the mustard tie and the jacket,’ begged Angelique’s deep green eyes. With her voice though the singer replied, “Don’t thank me Simon until we pull this off!”

“Of course,” laughed Simon, “Your Mom was brave to suggest you play two New Years Eve concerts in one night.”

Angelique nodded but chose not to reply.

“Your Mom has a lot of faith in her daughter,” Simon added.

“I won’t let her down,” vowed Angelique. “Or you!”

“Don’t worry about us,” Simon said with a smile, as he patted Angelique gently on the shoulder. “Just make sure that you don’t let yourself down.”

“I’m just planning to go out there and have some fun,” answered Angelique honestly.

“Come on Angel,” said Bob, ending the interview. “It’s time to go, hun.”

The trip to the wharf was quick. It was coming up to eight that night and everyone was headed to the beach, the opposite way that Bob and Angelique traveled.

“See you soon,” the DJ murmured to the cars as they sped by.

“What hun?” Bob asked.

“I wish Mom could have been here,” said the young girl.

“I know Angel,” Bob said kindly. “I heard from your Mom earlier, she wishes you luck.”

“I know I’ll see her and Anton after I’ve finished playing my set at the beach…” Angel began.

“Don’t forget there will be another rep from Guinness there too… A Daphnie or Darlene,” explained Bob as he switched lanes and entered the car park for the wharf district.

“And another interview I guess?” Angelique sighed as the crate coloured blue and red came into view. Tonight was going to be a big night.

The backdoors of the container squealed horridly as Bob and the chopper pilot forced them open. Angelique’s wince was ignored by the two men though.

“Step inside hun,” suggested Bob. “Welcome to your office.”

“We head for the heavens in half an hour,” the pilot said curtly to Bob. In response Angelique’s manager gave a silent nod.

“You heard the man, Angel,” said Bob to the young singer, again waving her into the container.

‘Wow Mom… What have you signed me up for?’ Angel immediately thought as she made her first, hesitant steps towards the metal shell. As she stepped daintily across the threshold illumination suddenly ignited and the space was flooded in pure white light.

The first thing that caught Angel’s eye was the grand chair, an intricately carved ebony throne piled with snow white cushions. There was more to the throne, but Angel was not quite sure able to work it out.

“The sponsors ask that you don’t sit down there until we hit the beach,” murmured Bob. “Spoil the surprise…”

“Where do we sit then?” Angelique demanded to know.

“Hun, I’ll be up in the chopper with Tom,” answered Bob with a shrug.

‘Why were all helicopter pilots called Tom?’ the girl said to herself, suppressing a giggle.

“Oh and before we shut you up in here you’ll need one last costume change,” Bob laughed.

Angel rolled her eyes.

“I know hun,” smiled Bob with a shake of his head. “I know…”

The final costume was a silver suit, a two piece that was stylish and fashionable. The Red Bull symbol was splashed prominently across the front. A simple pair of silver flats and a baseball cap finished the outfit. As she dressed, Angelique had a moment to examine the complicated light setup strung throughout. There were the usual smoke machines, strobes and a rainbow of reds, blues, greens and more. Angel spied a few pyro-techniques, something she had never experienced on stage.

“Trust Mom,” whispered the singer to herself, over and over repeating her mantra.

Finally Angel let her eyes drift over the deck with its twin turntables and the pile of classic pop records all on fresh, unopened vinyl.

Angel smiled to herself. The sponsors had given her everything she needed to be a kid playing in a candy store.

“Showtime!” she laughed as the chopper whirred to life.

Angel felt rather than heard the crunch of the soft sand as the shipping container touched down and the helicopter disengaged. As Tom and Bob whirred away Angel took in a deep breath. “Take the throne Angel,” the DJ murmured to herself. “Your queen of the beach tonight…”

Nestling down into the mountain of cushions Angelique felt the shipping container shudder. The walls began slowly falling downwards, first revealing the dazzling summer sky of stars, then the solid mass of people as the Bondi Beach crowd awaited her set to begin. As the first two pristine vinyls began to spin Angel expertly blended Seven Nation Army by the White Stripes with Madonna’s Holiday. The mood of the expectant crowd was already electric as the first beats began. As the kids of the 80s and the kids of the 90s recognized the tracks the feeling of joyful remembrance washed over Angel. She knew then that this crowd of strangers was already hers. As Holiday ended and a track by Jay-Z with a hefty beat began the throne and the turntable rose up and began to slowly spin. The crowd as a machine, all jumping as one, screaming out the lyrics to the songs they all knew. Then it happened, the fingers pointed, a thousand and one of them simultaneous aimed at her as something was emerging from behind her. Angelique took a quick peek over her shoulder as a red and a green strobe light flashed across her silver suit. To her surprise the chair had unveiled a pair of wings. The rest of the night Angelique spent with a massive grin on her face. Record or no she didn’t care anymore. Red Blue had given her wings…

The Book With All The Gifts

I have been drawn to this strange yellow book that is every so often on the adult fiction trolley waiting to be put away. About a month ago I took a moment to check out the blurb on the back and my curiosity was peaked. Now I have in my hot little hands The Girl With All The Gifts by M. R. Carey. Three days in and I am already onto chapter 27. The pace is perfect, the storyline captivating and I am finding all of the characters not only interesting, I need to know more... Every character has something about them that makes you curious...

If you are after a post apocalypic story with its own spin you'll not be left hungry if you reach for the yellow book with the strange little girl on the cover...

And only yesterday I discovered that this brilliant book is destined for the BIG screen. Definately not one for the wife and kids though...

Only 26 chapters down of 72 and I already give this book a 15 out 10!!