Month: May 2025

“What Sets Us Apart”, a mystery with a twist

David is a man troubled by a past he is trying to forget.

Susan is rebelling against a life of privilege and an exasperated mother who holds a secret that will determine her daughter’s destiny.

They are two people brought together by chance. Or was it?

When Susan discovers her mother’s secret, she goes in search of the truth that has been hidden from her since the day she was born.

When David realizes her absence is more than the usual cooling off after another heated argument, he finds himself being slowly drawn back into his former world of deceit and lies.

Then, back with his former employers, David quickly discovers nothing is what it seems as he embarks on a dangerous mission to find Susan before he loses her forever.

Find the kindle version on Amazon here:  http://amzn.to/2Eryfth

whatsetscover

A blank look means you’re in another world

I can see how it is that a writer’s life can be a lonely one.  That’s why, I guess, so many writers have an animal as a pet, someone to talk to, or just feel as though you are not alone in this quest.

I’m often sitting in front of the computer screen, or in a large lounge chair with my trusty tablet computer, writing the words, or staring into space!

Sometimes the words don’t make any sense, sometimes the thoughts leading to those words don’t make any sense.

Sometimes the most sensible person in the room is the cat.

I’m sure his thoughts are not vague or scrambled, or wrestling with the ploys of several stories on the go, getting locations right, getting characters to think and do their thing with a fair degree of continuity.

The cat’s world is one of which chair to lie on, where is that elusive mouse be it real or otherwise, and is this fool going to feed me, and please, please, don’t let it be the lasagna.  I am not that cat!

Unlike other professions, there is no 9 to 5, no overtime, no point where you can switch off and move into leisure time.  Not while you are writing that next masterpiece.  It’s a steady sometimes frustrating slog where you can’t just walk away, have a great time, and come back and pick up where you left off.

Stories have to be written from beginning to end, not a bit here and a bit there.

It’s a bit like running a marathon.  You are in a zone, the first few miles are the hardest, the middle is just getting the rhythm and breathing under control, and then you hope you get to the end because it can seem that you’ve been going forever and the end is never in sight.

But, when you reach the end, oh, isn’t the feeling one of pure joy and relief.

And, yes, perhaps you’ve just created another masterpiece!

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to see the planets – Episode 14

We have an unusual visitor

…

The captain seemed calm for a man with a ray gun that could be used on him at any moment.

I cursed the fact we were not allowed to carry weapons, even if they were standard issue revolvers that shot just plain bullets.

But we were on a peaceful mission to discover new life in outer space. We just didn’t expect to find it so soon, within our own solar system. After all we’ve been out to as far as Pluto, and a little beyond for at least ten years without any encounters like this.

If the captain was remaining calm, so would I.

“What sort of help, sir?”

“Identifying the mineral the thieves just took so they can return it. Apparently, these space pirates have spies on Earth who have been there for quite some time, looking at our defence systems.”

That statement begged so many questions I didn’t know where to start. The first, though, was this one of the pirates acting like the space police, for reasons yet unknown?

Had the captain considered this possibility.

“Then they picked a doozie to steal. If they understand the potential of the material…”

Our visitor cut in, “We are well aware of the possibilities of using plutonium in bombs and the damage it can do. We have similar material, but far less accessible.

“How long is a long time?”

OK, I was stuck on this whole invasion thing. It would be naïve of me to think we were the only life forms in space, but actually discovering we were not against assuming so was a little daunting, and a lot to take in.

“Since before your so called second world war. But all of this is irrelevant. Your superior says the decision to join us is meant to be a joint decision between you two.”

“Again, what sort of help can we provide you. We do not have the same speed capability, nor beaming technology, except for moving inanimate objects. And I suspect you know of our weapons capability.”

“You understand the nature of plutonium, and how to transport it safely. I suspect the fools who took it have no understanding of its danger to life forms. When we catch up with them, we’ll need your expertise to render it safe, and then take it back.”

“You know where they are?”

“Where they’re headed, yes. It’s one of the moons of the planet you call Uranus, called Oberon.”

“It’s a bit cold there, and we have been there and found nothing.”

“Did you look under the ice?”

Good point. But, of course, it didn’t answer the fundamental question that just rose to the surface, why was the captain deferring to me when he needed no such help in the decision making process?

I shrugged. “Well, we’ve got nothing better to do.”

…

© Charles Heath 2021

A photograph from the inspirational bin – 14

I’m always rummaging through the endless photographs that, if you were to ask me, I would vehemently deny I took.

It’s like the camera on my phone takes them itself, you know, the latest upgrade they didn’t tell you about, the artificial intelligence.

OK, so it’s simply a ferry crossing a wide stretch of water. You ask, why didn’t they build a bridge? A good question, and not one I can answer.

But, what does the thought of a ferry conjure up?

It brought to mind the film Jaws, and the summer visitors to the island, or should I say, shark hunting ground.

Here?

Perhaps a little less sinister…or not.

To me, at this point, it suggests the possibility of a get away, depending on what side you’re on, mainland, or island. I’m going to say, you’re on the island and going back to the mainland.

Running.

The island is like one of those remote places, with one way in and one way out. a place where people go to try and breathe life back into a marriage that’s falling apart under the stresses of city life, but it failed.

The problem wasn’t the fact you didn’t see each other enough, it’s just that you had grown to dislike each other, and going into a small isolated situation only made the problem worse.

It was just easier to blame everything else.

But going home, well that’s a whole different kettle of fish, because bridges were burned before you left, and going back, well, there was going to be grovelling involved.

Or not.

There’s a story here, but not right now. Perhaps in a day or two.

It’s late, very late, and I need some sleep … well, thinking time.

Writing a book in 365 days – 121

Day 121

Word work is sublime – so is the writing we produce, the measure of our lives?

…

I guess it depends on what you write. Certainly, if you were to ask me if my writing was to a certain extent based on my life experiences, or at the very least, influenced by my life experiences, I’d probably have to say it was.

I mean, what else can you write about? Someone else’s life experiences. Perhaps, if you have a passion for writing other people’s biographies.

Otherwise, what we may see, consciously or unconsciously, is the baring of your soul in your writing.

Of course, if you are a prolific reader and you have an interest in the ways of what the world used to be like, or the particular ways of a certain group of people, this acquired knowledge might also turn up in your work.

As a writer of period romances, or stories that have their setting in days past, a great amount of research might be required to capture the places, the people, and how they behaved or reacted in those days, because not a lot of those old ways are around today.

Back then, they didn’t have mobile phones or any phones at all. They certainly couldn’t;t jump on a plane and be on the other side of the country in a matter of hours, or on the other side of the world in half a day. Travel used to be by ship and took weeks, even months, to get from one side of the world to the other.

Trains were different, run by steam, and took longer to get to destinations; cars were rare and only affordable for the rich, and places like Africa, and the Middle East, even the Orient, were totally different than they are today, and a person who lived in that time would be shocked at how the world had changed particularly since the end of the second world war.

We only know of today, and what life is like now. Some of us know what the world was like 50 years ago, and it was different then, there was still a British Commonwealth, and we still learned about the British Empire and its kings and Queens. America was a different place, but the only way we knew of it;s colourful past was through the movies Hollywood made.

And the diversity that was out there in the world was only brought to us by immigration from all over the world.

So, we are products of out times, our words reflect what we knew, and what we know, and our perception of the world changes with each new generation of writers who entertain us with their vision of our world, the measure of what our lives are now, and not what they once were.

And some would argue that change is not always for the better.

Searching for locations – Port Macquarie – Day 5 – Part 1

Timbertown

Timbertown is based on a timber getters township between 1880 and 1910. All the buildings are based on original plans and sit among Tallowwoods and Blackbutts. Most of the red cedar has been cut down.

it might have made a bigger impact if there were people dressed in period costumes enacting roles in the various buildings.

Only one was used being used as a General Store.

The stables where the carriages are kept

There was a horse-drawn carriage, which does a circuit of the town.

It would not be a comfortable ride these days with independent suspension and solid steel wheels, giving bone-jarring passing through the potholes.

And a ride in a stagecoach from city to city, you would have to think long and hard before you travel.

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to go on a treasure hunt – Episode 17

Here’s the thing…

Every time I close my eyes, I see something different.

I’d like to think the cinema of my dreams is playing a double feature but it’s a bit like a comedy cartoon night on Fox.

But these dreams are nothing to laugh about.

Once again there’s a new instalment of an old feature, and we’re back on the treasure hunt.

…

I could hardly say no, but it was not going to be a place either of us would want to be if he came back, and especially if he had company.

But, Boggs didn’t seem to care, and strolled up to the dock, and then walked down to the boat.  IT wasn’t gated like some of the others were, but they had very expensive yachts that no doubt belongs to the local millionaires, people like the Benderby’s and their country club friends.

I remember my father talking about them once, and he had little respect for any of them.,  They, he said, had no time or money to worry about the welfare of their employees, but never lacked for anything themselves.

Looking at those yachts now, I could believe him.

I couldn’t say the same for Rico’s boat.  It was old, made of wood, and looked like boats I’d seen in old movies.  It was about 40 or 50 foot long, with a tall mast and a sail tied up ready to unfurl when out to see.

It had a large diesel engine, and it was this Rico used to get out of the bay until he was past the sandbank at the entrance.

On the transom, it had the words ‘Freedom Runner’ starting to peel and fade, and you could just make out the old name of the boat, ‘Elsie’, perhaps the wife or lover of the previous owner.  That must have been a long time ago, because I’d known Rico as long as I’d known Boggs, and that was nearly 18 years.

I had to ask, “You think Rico is running a collection service?”

“Someone is, according to the police chief.”

“How do you know that?  I thought the police were our sworn enemy.”

Considering the trouble we’d got into over the years, and the number of times the police chief had locked us up in the cells as punishment, we just spent our days avoiding him..  Perhaps the punishment had worked.

“He was around out place the other night.”

I wasn’t aware that Boggs was up to anything that would interest the law, but, then, he never told me everything he did.

“Why?”

“Come to see my mother.”

“What’s she been doing?”

“Nothing.  He was asking her out on a date.  Probably trying to cosy up to her so he can snoop on what Rico’s doing.  There’s no other reason why he would be interested in her.”

Actually, he was wrong.  Boggs mother was, for her age, quite attractive, or so my mother said.  She said a few other uncomplimentary things about her, but I was not going to repeat them to Boggs.

Nor did I agree with my mother’s assessment.  At times I saw more of Boggs mother than my own.

“Or maybe not.  But if she was to go out with him, that would make Rico think twice about doing anything, including giving you a hard time, or trying to steal the map.”

“You don’t know Rico.  He is just plain stupid.”

“He hasn’t been caught.”

“Yet.”

Then Boggs decided to walk over to the side of the boat and step onto the deck.

”What are you doing?” I hissed.

People on the other boats tied up to the pier were looking or pretending not to look, but I had no doubt they would report our actions to Rico

“Going on board.  I don’t think Rico would mind.”

It was said with a fair degree of bravado, but the halting tone told me otherwise.

“Are you coming?”

Damn him.  It was not as if he was giving me a choice.

I shrugged.  God help us if Rico comes back.

 

 

© Charles Heath 2019-2024

“The Things We Do For Love”

Would you give up everything to be with the one you love?

…

Is love the metaphorical equivalent to ‘walking the plank’; a dive into uncharted waters?

For Henry, the only romance he was interested in was a life at sea, and when away from it, he strived to find sanctuary from his family and perhaps life itself.  It takes him to a small village by the sea, a place he never expected to find another just like him, Michelle, whom he soon discovers is as mysterious as she is beautiful.

Henry had long since given up the notion of finding romance, and Michelle couldn’t get involved for reasons she could never explain, but in the end, both acknowledge that something happened the moment they first met.  

Plans were made, plans were revised, and hopes were shattered.

A chance encounter causes Michelle’s past to catch up with her, and whatever hope she had of having a normal life with Henry, or anyone else, is gone.  To keep him alive she has to destroy her blossoming relationship, an act that breaks her heart and shatters his.

But can love conquer all?

It takes a few words of encouragement from an unlikely source to send Henry and his friend Radly on an odyssey into the darkest corners of the red-light district in a race against time to find and rescue the woman he finally realizes is the love of his life.

The cover, at the moment, looks like this:

lovecoverfinal1

Is love the metaphorical equivalent to ‘walking the plank’; a dive into uncharted waters?

For Henry, the only romance he was interested in was a life at sea, and when away from it, he strived to find sanctuary from his family and perhaps life itself.  It takes him to a small village by the sea, s place he never expected to find another just like him, Michelle, whom he soon discovers is as mysterious as she is beautiful.

Henry had long since given up the notion of finding romance, and Michelle couldn’t get involved for reasons she could never explain, but in the end, both acknowledge that something happened the moment they first met.  

Plans were made, plans were revised, and hopes were shattered.

A chance encounter causes Michelle’s past to catch up with her, and whatever hope she had of having a normal life with Henry, or anyone else, is gone.  To keep him alive she has to destroy her blossoming relationship, an act that breaks her heart and shatters his.

But can love conquer all?

It takes a few words of encouragement from an unlikely source to send Henry and his friend Radly on an odyssey into the darkest corners of the red-light district in a race against time to find and rescue the woman he finally realizes is the love of his life.

The cover, at the moment, looks like this:

lovecoverfinal1

“One Last Look”, nothing is what it seems

A single event can have enormous consequences.

A single event driven by fate, after Ben told his wife Charlotte he would be late home one night, he left early, and by chance discovers his wife having dinner in their favourite restaurant with another man.

A single event where it could be said Ben was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Who was this man? Why was she having dinner with him?

A simple truth to explain the single event was all Ben required. Instead, Charlotte told him a lie.

A single event that forces Ben to question everything he thought he knew about his wife, and the people who are around her.

After a near-death experience and forced retirement into a world he is unfamiliar with, Ben finds himself once again drawn back into that life of lies, violence, and intrigue.

From London to a small village in Tuscany, little by little Ben discovers who the woman he married is, and the real reason why fate had brought them together.

It is available on Amazon here:  http://amzn.to/2CqUBcz