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In a word: Incline

When you first think of this word, it is with a slippery slope in mind.

I’ve been on a few of those in my time.

And while we’re on the subject, those inclines measured in degrees are very important if you want a train to get up and down the side of a mountain.

For the train, that’s an incline plane, the point where traction alone won’t get the iron horse up the hill.

Did I say ‘Iron Horse’?  Sorry, regressed there, back to the mid-1800s in the American West for a moment.

It’s not that important when it comes to trucks and cars, and less so if you like four-wheel driving; getting up near-vertical mountainsides often present a welcome challenge to the true enthusiast

But for the rest of us, not so much if you find yourself sliding in reverse uncontrollably into the bay.  I’m sure it’s happened more than once.

Then…

Are you inclined to go?

A very different sort of incline, ie to be disposed towards an attitude or desire.

An inclination, maybe, not to go four-wheel driving?

There is another, probably more obscure use of the word incline, and that relates to an elevated geological formation.  Not the sort of reference that crops up in everyday conversation at the coffee shop.

But, you never know.  Try it next time you have coffee and see what happens.

Featured

Writing about writing a book – Day 2

Hang about.  Didn’t I read somewhere you need to plan your novel, create an outline setting the plot points, and flesh out the characters?

I’m sure it didn’t say, sit down and start writing!

Time to find a writing pad, and put my thinking cap on.

I make a list, what’s the story going to be about? Who’s going to be in it, at least at the start?

Like a newspaper story, I need a who, what, when, where, and how.

Right now.

 

I pick up the pen.

 

Character number one:

Computer nerd, ok, that’s a little close to the bone, a computer manager who is trying to be everything at once, and failing.  Still me, but with a twist.  Now, add a little mystery to him, and give him a secret, one that will only be revealed after a specific set of circumstance.  Yes, I like that.

We’ll call him Bill, ex-regular army, a badly injured and repatriated soldier who was sent to fight a war in Vietnam, the result of which had made him, at times, unfit to live with.

He had a wife, which brings us to,

Character number two:

Ellen, Bill’s ex-wife, an army brat and a General’s daughter, and the result of one of those romances that met disapproval for so many reasons.  It worked until Bill came back from the war, and from there it slowly disintegrated.  There are two daughters, both by the time the novel begins, old enough to understand the ramifications of a divorce.

Character number three:

The man who is Bill’s immediate superior, the Services Department manager, a rather officious man who blindly follows orders, a man who takes pleasure in making others feel small and insignificant, and worst of all, takes the credit where none is due.

Oops, too much, that is my old boss.  He’ll know immediately I’m parodying him.  Tone it down, just a little, but more or less that’s him.  Last name Benton.  He will play a small role in the story.

Character number four:

Jennifer, the IT Department’s assistant manager, a woman who arrives in a shroud of mystery, and then, in time, to provide Bill with a shoulder to cry on when he and Ellen finally split, and perhaps something else later on.

More on her later as the story unfolds.

So far so good.

What’s the plot?

Huge corporation plotting to take over the world using computers?  No, that’s been done to death.

Huge corporation, OK, let’s stop blaming the corporate world for everything wrong in the world.  Corporations are not bad people, people are the bad people.  That’s a rip off cliché, from guns don’t kill people, people kill people!  There will be guns, and there will be dead people.

There will be people hiding behind a huge corporation, using a part of their computer network to move billions of illegally gained money around.  That’s better.

Now, having got that, our ‘hero’ has to ‘discover’ this network, and the people behind it.

All we need now is to set the ball rolling, a single event that ‘throws a cat among the pigeons’.

Yes, Bill is on holidays, a welcome relief from the problems of work.  He dreams of what he’s going to do for the next two weeks.  The phone rings.  Benton calling, the world is coming to an end, the network is down.  He’s needed.  A few terse words, but he relents.

Pen in hand I begin to write.

 

© Charles Heath 2016-2019

NaNoWriMo – April – 2026 – Day 33

I have been working on the final chapters, and these are proceeding slowly.

The plot has been veering off course because new possibilities come to mind that will give me an ending that I didn’t think was possible.

But now, with a little tweaking over the previous five chapters, and going back to the start of the third section, a whole new scenario has come to life.

And no one will see it coming.

I certainly didn’t, because, in the original storyline, it was meant to have a happy-ever-after ending, each with a different person.

So, it doesn’t finish in quite the same manner for either of the two main characters.

In the meantime, I have to flesh out the major, major plot development!

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 106

Day 106 – Writing to please yourself

…

Writing for an Audience of One: The Radical Liberation of Margaret Cavendish

In the 17th century, a woman’s writing was typically expected to be a pursuit of piety, domestic instruction, or perhaps a modest contribution to poetry. Margaret Cavendish, the Duchess of Newcastle, cared little for such boundaries. Surrounded by the rigid social expectations of the Restoration era, she penned a mantra that remains one of the most liberating declarations in literary history: “I write to please myself.”

While this might sound like a simple statement of personal preference, in the context of Cavendish’s time—and perhaps even in our own era of algorithm-driven content—it is a profoundly radical act.

The Rebellion Against Approval

When we write today, it is rarely “for ourselves.” We write for engagement, for likes, for professional advancement, or to satisfy the perceived expectations of a target demographic. We curate our voices to fit into boxes that make us palatable to publishers, platforms, and peers.

Margaret Cavendish understood something that many modern creatives have forgotten: as soon as you write to please an audience, you are no longer the author of your own work; you are merely a performer of their desires.

By declaring that her primary audience was her own intellect and imagination, Cavendish reclaimed the authority of the artist. She did not seek the validation of the male-dominated literary circles of the 1600s; instead, she explored science fiction, philosophy, and poetry with a wild, unbridled curiosity. She didn’t seek to be “correct”—she sought to be honest to her own fascinations.

When “Pleasing Yourself” Becomes Art

There is a common misconception that writing for oneself is synonymous with vanity or poor quality. Critics of Cavendish often labelled her as eccentric or “mad.” However, history has revealed that her refusal to bend to contemporary tastes allowed her to write The Blazing World—one of the earliest examples of science fiction.

She was free to experiment because she wasn’t tethered to the fear of being misunderstood.

When you write to please yourself, you strip away the filters of “what will people think?” and “is this marketable?” The result is a voice that is sharper, more distinct, and more authentic. Even if the work never reaches a wide audience, the process of documenting one’s own mind is an act of self-discovery that no amount of external praise can replicate.

How to Adopt the Cavendish Mindset

How can we reclaim this philosophy in a world that demands we be “content creators” rather than artists?

  1. Lower the Stakes: Write something that you never intend to publish. Let it be messy, odd, or purely indulgent. If no one else is reading it, you are free to explore your most “unmarketable” ideas.
  2. Define Your Curiosity: What do you actually want to write about, regardless of trends? Whether it’s 17th-century philosophy or a niche hobby, lean into the subjects that make your own brain light up.
  3. Detach from the Metric: Focus on the satisfaction of the prose, the clarity of the thought, or the joy of the narrative. If the writing process itself brings you pleasure, the goal has been achieved.

Final Thoughts

Margaret Cavendish was an outcast in her time because she refused to perform modesty. Today, we can see her for what she truly was: a visionary who realized that the only person you are guaranteed to be writing for for the rest of your life is yourself.

The next time you sit down to write, don’t ask, “Will this resonate?” Ask, “Does this thrill me?” Because when you write to please yourself, you create something that is authentic—and that is the only kind of writing that truly stands the test of time.

What I learned about writing – A writer sometimes has to be a hustler.

If you want to eat, or more to the point, if you want to make a living out of it, you will have to put yourself out there.

But, first, a sobering statistic: very few writers make an adequate living off their writing.

We all can be like James Patterson, and those who are always on the top 50 best-selling list.

I’ll admit I want to have that New York Times Number One bestselling author title, but realistic enough to know that there’s a lot of hard work between then and now.

Now I’m just content to write.

But, seriously, writing is as much about marketing as it is writing, and unless you have a publishing contract, you are in charge of your book’s marketing campaign.

And it isn’t easy.

A lot of so-called helpful people are only too willing to tell you how easy it is, for a price.  The thing is, what worked for them, if it worked for them, doesn’t necessarily work for you.

Quite often, it’s different genres, so their success was in cosy mysteries, and if you write true crime, you’re facing a completely different market.

Then, if you were to analyse the success of that particular advice offerer, which I did in one case, you might find they have no presence or sales, except for the material they are selling.

It’s a rarity indeed that a person who isn’t in the same type of market can offer any meaningful advice.

I have tried paid for and free advice, not that much of the free advice was very helpful, and a lot of it didn’t work

Even trying to give your books away for free, the sites that might see you move a dozen, perhaps twenty copies, don’t equate to the large sum of money these ‘promotion by giving away free copies’ sites demand is hardly worth the effort.

Is there a perfect plan?

No.

Is there a way to find out how to market successfully?

I like to think there is.  The thing is, I haven’t quite stumbled on the formula, but when I do, I will be happy to give it away for free.

Searching for locations: Murano, Italy

The first time we visited Venice, there was not enough time left to visit the glass-blowing factories on Murano.  We saved this for the next visit, and now more comfortable with taking the Vaporetto, boarded at San Marco for the short journey.

The view looking towards the cemetery:

The view looking down what I think was the equivalent to the main street, or where several of the glass-blowing factories and display shops were located:

Looking towards a workshop, this one costs us each a Euro to go in and observe a demonstration of glass blowing, and it still surprises me that some people would not pay

The oven where the glass is heated

And the finished product, the retail version of the horse that the glassblower created during the demonstration:

Then we bought some other glassware from the retail storefront, a candle holder

and a turtle.

Just one of many reading lists – part 1

**Please don’t assume that you have to, nor would I ever expect you to, read any or all of these books.  You don’t.**

Everyone, it seems, will publish what they call the top 100 books that you should read.  Some are voted on, some belong to the opinion of the editor of the book review section of a newspaper, and, as you know, there are a lot of newspapers, a lot of editors, and a lot of opinions.

I’m not a newspaper, I’m not an editor, but I have a list, based on personal experience, and many, many years of reading.

It’s in no particular order.

  1.  The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman by Laurence Sterne.  Don’t ask me why but I found this an interesting slice of life in England in the 1700s
  2. Vanity Fair by William Thackeray.  I met a direct descendant of him in England on a research visit which fuelled an interest in the book.  Another large tome recently brought to life by the mini-series on television.
  3. The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins.  Arguably the first detective novel, it was fuel for the imagination of any budding detective novel author.  He also wrote The Woman in White.
  4. Middlemarch by George Eliot, a remarkable novel, and famous for the fact it was written by a woman who thought it was best to use a male name in order to get recognition.
  5. Any of the Sherlock Holmes stories by Arthur Conan Doyle
  6. New Grub Street by George Gissing, very, very gritty
  7. The Thirty-Nine Steps by John Buchan, another of those incredibly well-written spy stories
  8. A Passage to India by E.M. Forster, a novel that brings up the subject of the British Empire
  9. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitgerald, a story from the jazz age and the mysterious Jay Gatsby whom no one could figure out
  10. The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett, one of the few books that opened up the world of the Private Detective, and fostered a brilliant movie with Humprey Bogart as Sam Spade.
  11. The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler, the author who introduced us to Philip Marlowe, with two definitive characterizations by Humprey Bogart and Robert Mitchum
  12. The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck, the classic about a family in the Great Depression, and my first introduction to Henry Fonda in the movie version of the book
  13. To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee.  I had to read this when I was at school and probably a time when I didn’t understand it’s importance.  Seeing the film with Gregory Peck much later helped.
  14. Catch 22 by Joseph Heller.  A friend recommended this and after I read it, I wondered what the hell it was about.  Only now do I understand it’s anti-war undertones
  15. Far from the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy was the novel that introduced me to Hardy
  16. Rural Rides by William Cobbett is a slice of life in the southern English countryside in the 1800s
  17. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, the first book of hers I read and found it fascinating.  Of course, when Mr. Darcy was brought to life in the television series, it found a whole new generation of readers
  18. Great Expectations by Charles Dickens, the remarkable story of Pip, Miss Havisham, and the mysterious benefactor
  19. Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury, apparently the temperature that paper burns, but this is more about Guy Montag and the saving of books rather than burning them
  20. Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert, probably the most depressing novel I’ve ever read, about a woman married to a mediocre doctor and seeks to escape to a fantasy world that leads to disappointment and devastating consequences

The list continues …

Coming soon – “Strangers We’ve Become”, the sequel to “What Sets Us Apart”

Stranger’s We’ve Become, a sequel to What Sets Us Apart.

The blurb:

Is she or isn’t she, that is the question!

Susan has returned to David, but he is having difficulty dealing with the changes. Her time in captivity has changed her markedly, so much so that David decides to give her some time and space to re-adjust back into normal life.

But doubts about whether he chose the real Susan remain.

In the meantime, David has to deal with Susan’s new security chief, the discovery of her rebuilding a palace in Russia, evidence of an affair, and several attempts on his life. And, once again, David is drawn into another of Predergast’s games, one that could ultimately prove fatal.

From being reunited with the enigmatic Alisha, a strange visit to Susan’s country estate, to Russia and back, to a rescue mission in Nigeria, David soon discovers those whom he thought he could trust each has their own agenda, one that apparently doesn’t include him.

The Cover:

strangerscover9

Coming soon

 

Searching for locations: Venice, Italy (Again)

We have visited Venice twice, in 2006 and not so long ago.

Not much had changed from visit to visit.

Instead of staying in a hotel selected by a travel agent, the Savoia and Jolanda on the waterfront of Riva Degli Schiavoni, because I’m a Hilton Honors member, more recently we stayed at the Hilton Molino Stucky.  It was located on an island, Giudecca, and had its own transport from the hotel to St Mark’s Square for a very reasonable one-off charge for the stay.

hiltonmolinostuckey2

On our first visit, we traveled from Florence to Venice.  We were advised to take a water taxi to the hotel, not only the most direct route but to see some of Venice from the water.  The only drawback, you have to negotiate a price with the driver.

We were not very good negotiators, and it cost 60 Euros.

But, despite the cost, it was worth every Euro because the taxi driver took us by the scenic route, directly from the Station to the doorstep of our hotel.  For a first time in Venice, and you want to see it from the water, a water taxi is the best option.

2013-06-25 17.09.16

The first time we stayed at the Savoia and Jolanda Hotel, which was at the time quite old, and the room we had, on the ground floor, was comfortable enough, but being November, they had just stopped using the air conditioning, it was still quite warm and at times uncomfortable.

There were better rooms, but this was beyond the knowledge of the travel agent, and one of the reasons we stopped using agents to book hotels.

The most recent visit we had driven down from Salzburg to Venice airport where we had to return the hire car.  From there we were intending to take a private water taxi from the airport to the hotel, for an estimated 120 Euros.

We saved our money and took the ACTV public waterbus, from the airport to the hotel, with one stop.  It took a little over an hour and was equally as scenic.

venicecanals1

Our room in the Hilton was on one of the upper levels, floor four, and had a view of the canal, the large passenger ships coming and going, as well as a remarkable view of Venice itself as far up the canal to St Marks Square in one direction, and the port for the passenger ships in the other.

20130627_081601

We got to see three or four very large passenger ships come and go, along with a lot of other craft.  I hadn’t realized how busy the waterways, and the Grand Canal, were.

20130627_174408

Each evening after a day’s exploring we would end up in the Executive Lounge, and then one of the many restaurants, usually Il Molino for breakfast, and the Rialto Lobby Bar and Lounge for dinner.  After that, it was a stroll down the waterfront taking in the night air, and perhaps to walk off the delicious dinner.

The story behind the story – Echoes from the Past

The novel ‘Echoes from the past’ started out as a short story I wrote about 30 years ago, titled ‘The birthday’.

My idea was to take a normal person out of their comfort zone and led on a short but very frightening journey to a place where a surprise birthday party had been arranged.

Thus the very large man with a scar and a red tie was created.

So was the friend with the limousine who worked as a pilot.

So were the two women, Wendy and Angelina, who were Flight Attendants that the pilot friend asked to join the conspiracy.

I was going to rework the short story, then about ten pages long, into something a little more.

And like all re-writes, especially those I have anything to do with, it turned into a novel.

There was motivation.  I had told some colleagues at the place where I worked at the time that I liked writing, and they wanted a sample.  I was going to give them the re-worked short story.  Instead, I gave them ‘Echoes from the past’

Originally it was not set anywhere in particular.

But when considering a location, I had, at the time, recently been to New York in December, and visited Brooklyn and Queens, as well as a lot of New York itself.  We were there for New Years, and it was an experience I’ll never forget.

One evening we were out late, and finished up in Brooklyn Heights, near the waterfront, and there was rain and snow, it was cold and wet, and there were apartment buildings shimmering in the street light, and I thought, this is the place where my main character will live.

It had a very spooky atmosphere, the sort where ghosts would not be unexpected.  I felt more than one shiver go up and down my spine in the few minutes I was there.

I had taken notes, as I always do, of everywhere we went so I had a ready supply of locations I could use, changing the names in some cases.

Fifth Avenue near the Rockefeller center is amazing at first light, and late at night with the Seasonal decorations and lights.

The original main character was a shy and man of few friends, hence not expecting the surprise party.  I enhanced that shyness into purposely lonely because of an issue from his past that leaves him always looking over his shoulder and ready to move on at the slightest hint of trouble.  No friends, no relationships, just a very low profile.

Then I thought, what if he breaks the cardinal rule, and begins a relationship?

But it is also as much an exploration of a damaged soul, as it is the search for a normal life, without having any idea what normal was, and how the understanding of one person can sometimes make all the difference in what we may think or feel.

And, of course, I wanted a happy ending.

Except for the bad guys.

Get it here:  https://amzn.to/2CYKxu4

newechocover5rs

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 106

Day 106 – Writing to please yourself

…

Writing for an Audience of One: The Radical Liberation of Margaret Cavendish

In the 17th century, a woman’s writing was typically expected to be a pursuit of piety, domestic instruction, or perhaps a modest contribution to poetry. Margaret Cavendish, the Duchess of Newcastle, cared little for such boundaries. Surrounded by the rigid social expectations of the Restoration era, she penned a mantra that remains one of the most liberating declarations in literary history: “I write to please myself.”

While this might sound like a simple statement of personal preference, in the context of Cavendish’s time—and perhaps even in our own era of algorithm-driven content—it is a profoundly radical act.

The Rebellion Against Approval

When we write today, it is rarely “for ourselves.” We write for engagement, for likes, for professional advancement, or to satisfy the perceived expectations of a target demographic. We curate our voices to fit into boxes that make us palatable to publishers, platforms, and peers.

Margaret Cavendish understood something that many modern creatives have forgotten: as soon as you write to please an audience, you are no longer the author of your own work; you are merely a performer of their desires.

By declaring that her primary audience was her own intellect and imagination, Cavendish reclaimed the authority of the artist. She did not seek the validation of the male-dominated literary circles of the 1600s; instead, she explored science fiction, philosophy, and poetry with a wild, unbridled curiosity. She didn’t seek to be “correct”—she sought to be honest to her own fascinations.

When “Pleasing Yourself” Becomes Art

There is a common misconception that writing for oneself is synonymous with vanity or poor quality. Critics of Cavendish often labelled her as eccentric or “mad.” However, history has revealed that her refusal to bend to contemporary tastes allowed her to write The Blazing World—one of the earliest examples of science fiction.

She was free to experiment because she wasn’t tethered to the fear of being misunderstood.

When you write to please yourself, you strip away the filters of “what will people think?” and “is this marketable?” The result is a voice that is sharper, more distinct, and more authentic. Even if the work never reaches a wide audience, the process of documenting one’s own mind is an act of self-discovery that no amount of external praise can replicate.

How to Adopt the Cavendish Mindset

How can we reclaim this philosophy in a world that demands we be “content creators” rather than artists?

  1. Lower the Stakes: Write something that you never intend to publish. Let it be messy, odd, or purely indulgent. If no one else is reading it, you are free to explore your most “unmarketable” ideas.
  2. Define Your Curiosity: What do you actually want to write about, regardless of trends? Whether it’s 17th-century philosophy or a niche hobby, lean into the subjects that make your own brain light up.
  3. Detach from the Metric: Focus on the satisfaction of the prose, the clarity of the thought, or the joy of the narrative. If the writing process itself brings you pleasure, the goal has been achieved.

Final Thoughts

Margaret Cavendish was an outcast in her time because she refused to perform modesty. Today, we can see her for what she truly was: a visionary who realized that the only person you are guaranteed to be writing for for the rest of your life is yourself.

The next time you sit down to write, don’t ask, “Will this resonate?” Ask, “Does this thrill me?” Because when you write to please yourself, you create something that is authentic—and that is the only kind of writing that truly stands the test of time.

The first case of PI Walthenson – “A Case of Working With the Jones Brothers”

This case has everything, red herrings, jealous brothers, femme fatales, and at the heart of it all, greed.

See below for an excerpt from the book…

Coming soon!

PIWalthJones1

An excerpt from the book:

When Harry took the time to consider his position, a rather uncomfortable position at that, he concluded that he was somehow involved in another case that meant very little to him.

Not that it wasn’t important in some way he was yet to determine, it was just that his curiosity had got the better of him, and it had led to this: sitting in a chair, securely bound, waiting for someone one of his captors had called Doug.

It was not the name that worried him so much, it was the evil laugh that had come after the name was spoken.

Doug what? Doug the ‘destroyer’, Doug the ‘dangerous’, Doug the ‘deadly’; there was any number of sinister connotations, and perhaps that was the point of the laugh, to make it more frightening than it was.

But there was no doubt about one thing in his mind right then: he’d made a mistake. A very big. and costly, mistake. Just how big the cost, no doubt he would soon find out.

His mother, and his grandmother, the wisest person he had ever known, had once told him never to eavesdrop.

At the time he couldn’t help himself and instead of minding his own business, listening to a one-sided conversation which ended with a time and a place. The very nature of the person receiving the call was, at the very least, sinister, and, because of the cryptic conversation, there appeared to be, or at least to Harry, criminal activity involved.

For several days he had wrestled with the thought of whether he should go. Stay on the fringe, keep out of sight, observe and report to the police if it was a crime. Instead, he had willingly gone down the rabbit hole.

Now, sitting in an uncomfortable chair, several heat lamps hanging over his head, he was perspiring, and if perspiration could be used as a measure of fear, then Harry’s fear was at the highest level.

Another runnel of sweat rolled into his left eye, and, having his hands tied, literally, it made it impossible to clear it. The burning sensation momentarily took his mind off his predicament. He cursed and then shook his head trying to prevent a re-occurrence. It was to no avail.

Let the stinging sensation be a reminder of what was right and what was wrong.

It was obvious that it was the right place and the right time, but in considering his current perilous situation, it definitely was the wrong place to be, at the worst possible time.

It was meant to be his escape, an escape from the generations of lawyers, what were to Harry, dry, dusty men who had been in business since George Washington said to the first Walthenson to step foot on American soil, ‘Why don’t you become a lawyer?” when asked what he could do for the great man.

Or so it was handed down as lore, though Harry didn’t think Washington meant it literally, the Walthenson’s, then as now, were not shy of taking advice.

Except, of course, when it came to Harry.

He was, Harry’s father was prone to saying, the exception to every rule. Harry guessed his father was referring to the fact his son wanted to be a Private Detective rather than a dry, dusty lawyer. Just the clothes were enough to turn Harry off the profession.

So, with a little of the money Harry inherited from one of his aunts, he leased an office in Gramercy Park and had it renovated to look like the Sam Spade detective agency, you know the one, Spade and Archer, and The Maltese Falcon.

There’s a movie and a book by Dashiell Hammett if you’re interested.

So, there it was, painted on the opaque glass inset of the front door, ‘Harold Walthenson, Private Detective’.

There was enough money to hire an assistant, and it took a week before the right person came along, or, more to the point, didn’t just see his business plan as something sinister. Ellen, a tall cool woman in a long black dress, or so the words of a song in his head told him, fitted in perfectly.

She’d seen the movie, but she said with a grin, Harry was no Humphrey Bogart.

Of course not, he said, he didn’t smoke.

Three months on the job, and it had been a few calls, no ‘real’ cases, nothing but missing animals, and other miscellaneous items. What he really wanted was a missing person. Or perhaps a beguiling, sophisticated woman who was as deadly as she was charming, looking for an errant husband, perhaps one that she had already ‘dispatched’.

Or for a tall, dark and handsome foreigner who spoke in riddles and in heavily accented English, a spy, or perhaps an assassin, in town to take out the mayor. The man was such an imbecile Harry had considered doing it himself.

Now, in a back room of a disused warehouse, that wishful thinking might be just about to come to a very abrupt end, with none of the romanticized trappings of the business befalling him. No beguiling women, no sinister criminals, no stupid policemen.

Just a nasty little man whose only concern was how quickly or how slowly Harry’s end was going to be.

…

© Charles Heath 2019-2024