The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to write a war story – Episode 18

For a story that was conceived during those long boring hours flying in a steel cocoon, striving to keep away the thoughts that the plane and everyone in it could just simply disappear as planes have in the past, it has come a long way.

Whilst I have always had a fascination in what happened during the second world war, not the battles or fighting, but in the more obscure events that took place, I decided to pen my own little sidebar to what was a long and bitter war.

And, so, it continues…

 …

It was clear, however, that Marina was familiar with the man and very annoyed with the woman.

When I took a longer look at the man, I realised he was not a man at all, but a boy in his teens, blessed by the fact he looked older than he was.  My guess, about 16.  I was surprised he had not been conscripted into the war, there seemed very few young men in the area.

Marina went straight over to him and snatched the elderly rifle he was holding away from him, the glared at Chiara

“Are you stark staring mad.  Enrico is not supposed to be out in the open, hell, it’s been a battle to keep him hidden away.  What will his parents think when they discover he’s here?”

“Pleased,” Enrico said.  “My father said it’s about time I did something to rid of the Germans, of the English too for that matter.  None of you has any right to be here.”

Fervently spoken, and to the wrong person, it would earn him a bullet to the back of the head.  But I agreed with him.

“All well and good,” Marina said to him, “but now there’s no easy way of doing that.  We must be careful, and you must stay put with your parents.  What we’re doing isn’t a game, you are neither trained or equipped to take anyone on, except perhaps rabbits.”

Back at Chiara.  “Take him home, and never bring him back here.  You don’t want to be the one who has to tell his mother if he gets killed.  Now, both of you go now, before I shoot both of you myself.”

“This is not the end of the matter,” Enrico said.

“And when you’ve taken him back, come back here.  We need to talk.”

Chiara said nothing, just nodded sullenly.  I think she believed the less said the better and did as she was asked, nodding her head in his direction, and adding a few choice phrases in Italian to him that I couldn’t understand.  It also just occurred to me that she had not asked Chiara the questions about the two men from the castle.  I guess that would have to wait until the safety of Enrico was settled, and she returned.

“Make sure they’re safe,” she said to Carlo, and he disappeared, leaving us alone.

“I thought all of the young men had been taken away by the Italian Army.”

“Not all.  We managed to hide a few away, but as you can see, despite our best efforts, they don’t seem to appreciate the trouble they could get into.  We used to have about a hundred young men from 14 through to 20 at the start of the war.  Two have found their way back, casualties of war, the rest, we may never see them again.  Enrico just doesn’t see the trouble he could get into.”

“It’s called youthful enthusiasm.  In the first world war, joining up, or going to war, was a lark.  It was a little less so this time because most of the parents knew from firsthand experience what it was like and tried to shield them.  And if you didn’t join up, questions were asked, and quite often jail, except for some who landed cushy jobs away from the fighting.”

“You were not so lucky?”

“No, I was one of those mad buggers who thought joining up to fight would be an adventure.  That quickly faded when the enemy started shooting at me.”

“And now you’re here, and a spy to boot.  That’s what they’ll hang on you if you get caught.”

“Then I shall try very hard not to get caught.  Again.”

 

Chiara came back about an hour later.  It seemed to me it was a lot safer to move around at night with the blackout, and I doubted Thompson would spare any men from the castle to check up on the local farmers.

And while I was at the castle, I didn’t hear anything raised about the local resistance, which I thought odd at the time, but now I knew why.  Most of them had joined him.  Better that than be hunted down and killed.

Chiara still looked sullen.  A closer look showed she was not very old herself, barely out of her twenties, and surprising that the Italian army, or Thomson for that matter, had not rounded her up for ‘duties’ at the castle.

There were a number of the local women working up at the castle, but they were mostly staff, or more likely forced labour, though I had thought we, when I believed it to be a British outpost, would be fairer to the locals than either the Germans or their own Italian military.  It’s odd how you tend to look at certain situations because of who you are, and the fact you would not do similar things at home.  The Germans, however, we would always treat differently, because they were the enemy, and because we expected the worst from them.  At that moment, though, wouldn’t the Germans think the same of us if the positions were reversed?

Best not to think about that.  My view of the war and the people in it was clouded enough.

Chiara, however, clearly thought the worst of me, and of those in the castle, and certainly didn’t think I was as neutral as I appeared.  A gun always in hand, I was sure she would shoot me again with the least provocation.

We sat, both Chiara and Marina with their weapons on the table in front of them.  I wasn’t trusted enough to be given a weapon.

Marina’s first question was directed at Chiara, “I’m told there were two men from the castle following Sam, and that he told you about them.”

“He did.  We did not see them.  We didn’t take the path, because, as you know, it’s not safe.”

It was a reasonable answer.  If the men at the castle were unfamiliar with the area, as I’m sure they would be, because they hadn’t been there for very long, and I doubt Thompson would want to advertise the nationality of those at the castle unless he had to, they would stick to the clearly-marked roads and paths.

I had on my way to the castle, from a different direction.  It didn’t explain why I had not been met by the leader of the resistance as arranged, but that was now explained, both by the former leader trying to kill me in a roadside explosion, and then what I learned at the castle in the last few days.

“Even so, there’s not that much distance between the two, and it is possible to shadow them.”

“I keep well away from them.  Perhaps Leonardo saw them.  He doesn’t have to worry about what they might do because they use him to supply food.  Maybe he knows more.”

“Perhaps I shall ask him next time I see him.  We need to know who from the castle is about and when so that we don’t get caught.”

“I’ll remember next time.  Is that all?”

“Yes.”

Chiara picked up her gun, gave me an extra-long sullen stare.  “I don’t trust this one, Marina.  You 

need to be careful.”

“I will.”

We waited a few minutes until after she had departed, and then Marina said, “We should be going too.  This place is a little eerie at night.  There are far too many ghosts for my liking.”

I shuddered, then followed her out.

 …

© Charles Heath 2019

An excerpt from “What Sets Us Apart”, a mystery with a twist

See the excerpt from the story below, just a taste of what’s in store…

http://amzn.to/2Eryfth

whatsetscover

McCallister was old school, a man who would most likely fit in perfectly campaigning on the battlefields of Europe during the Second World War. He’d been like a fish out of water in the army, post-Falklands, and while he retired a hero, he still felt he’d more to give.

He’d applied and was accepted as head of a SWAT team, and, watching him now as he and his men disembarked from the truck in almost military precision, a look passed between Annette, the police liaison officer, and I that said she’d seen it all before. I know I had.

There was a one in four chance his team would be selected for this operation, and she had been hoping it would be one of the other three. While waiting for them to arrive she filled me in on the various teams. His was the least co-operative, and the more likely to make ad-hoc decisions rather than adhere to the plan, or any orders that may come from the officer in charge.

This, she said quite bluntly, was going to end badly.

I still had no idea why Prendergast instructed me to attend the scene of what looked to be a normal domestic operation, but as the nominated expert in the field in these types of situations, it was fairly clear he wasn’t taking any chances. It was always a matter of opinion between us, and generally I lost.

In this case, it was an anonymous report identifying what the authorities believed were explosives in one of the dockside sheds where explosives were not supposed to be.

The only reason why the report was given any credence was the man, while not identifying himself by name, said he’d been an explosive expert once and recognized the boxes. That could mean anything, but the Chief Constable was a cautious man.

With his men settled and preparing their weapons, McCallister came over to the command post, not much more than the SUV my liaison and I arrived in, with weapons, bulletproof vests, and rolls of tape to cordon off the area afterward. We both had coffee, steaming in the cold early morning air. Dawn was slowly approaching and although rain had been forecast it had yet to arrive.

A man by the name of Benson was in charge. He too had groaned when he saw McCallister.

“A fine morning for it.” McCallister was the only enthusiastic one here.

He didn’t say what ‘it’ was, but I thought it might eventually be mayhem.

“Let’s hope the rain stays away. It’s going to be difficult enough without it,” Benson said, rubbing his hands together. We had been waiting for the SWAT team to arrive, and another team to take up their position under the wharf, and who was in the final stages of securing their position.

While we were waiting we drew up the plan. I’d go in first to check on what we were dealing with, and what type of explosives. The SWAT team, in the meantime, were to ensure all the exits to the shed were covered. When I gave the signal, they were to enter and secure the building. We were not expecting anyone inside or out, and no movement had been detected in the last hour since our arrival and deployment.

“What’s the current situation?”

“I’ve got eyes on the building, and a team coming in from the waterside, underneath. Its slow progress, but they’re nearly there. Once they’re in place, we’re sending McKenzie in.”

He looked in my direction.

“With due respect sir, shouldn’t it be one of us?” McCallister glared at me with the contempt that only a decorated military officer could.

“No. I have orders from above, much higher than I care to argue with, so, McCallister, no gung-ho heroics for the moment. Just be ready to move on my command, and make sure you have three teams at the exit points, ready to secure the building.”

McCallister opened his mouth, no doubt to question those orders, but instead closed it again. “Yes sir,” he muttered and turned away heading back to his men.

“You’re not going to have much time before he storms the battlements,” Benson quietly said to me, a hint of exasperation in his tone. “I’m dreading the paperwork.”

It was exactly what my liaison officer said when she saw McCallister arriving.

The water team sent their ‘in position’ signal, and we were ready to go.

In the hour or so we’d been on site nothing had stirred, no arrivals, no departures, and no sign anyone was inside, but that didn’t mean we were alone. Nor did it mean I was going to walk in and see immediately what was going on. If it was a cache of explosives then it was possible the building was booby-trapped in any number of ways, there could be sentries or guards, and they had eyes on us, or it might be a false alarm.

I was hoping for the latter.

I put on the bulletproof vest, thinking it was a poor substitute for full battle armor against an exploding bomb, but we were still treating this as a ‘suspected’ case. I noticed my liaison officer was pulling on her bulletproof vest too.

“You don’t have to go. This is my party, not yours,” I said.

“The Chief Constable told me to stick to you like glue, sir.”

I looked at Benson. “Talk some sense into her please, this is not a kindergarten outing.”

He shrugged. Seeing McCallister had taken all the fight out of him. “Orders are orders. If that’s what the Chief Constable requested …”

Madness. I glared at her, and she gave me a wan smile. “Stay behind me then, and don’t do anything stupid.”

“Believe me, I won’t be.” She pulled out and checked her weapon, chambering the first round. It made a reassuring sound.

Suited up, weapons readied, a last sip of the coffee in a stomach that was already churning from nerves and tension, I looked at the target, one hundred yards distant and thought it was going to be the longest hundred yards I’d ever traversed. At least for this week.

A swirling mist rolled in and caused a slight change in plans.

Because the front of the buildings was constantly illuminated by large overhead arc lamps, my intention had been to approach the building from the rear where there was less light and more cover. Despite the lack of movement, if there were explosives in that building, there’d be ‘enemy’ surveillance somewhere, and, after making that assumption, I believed it was going to be easier and less noticeable to use the darkness as a cover.

It was a result of the consultation, and studying the plans of the warehouse, plans that showed three entrances, the main front hangar type doors, a side entrance for truck entry and exit and a small door in the rear, at the end of an internal passage leading to several offices. I also assumed it was the exit used when smokers needed a break. Our entry would be by the rear door or failing that, the side entrance where a door was built into the larger sliding doors. In both cases, the locks would not present a problem.

The change in the weather made the approach shorter, and given the density of the mist now turning into a fog, we were able to approach by the front, hugging the walls, and moving quickly while there was cover. I could feel the dampness of the mist and shivered more than once.

It was nerves more than the cold.

I could also feel rather than see the presence of Annette behind me, and once felt her breath on my neck when we stopped for a quick reconnaissance.

It was the same for McCallister’s men. I could feel them following us, quickly and quietly, and expected, if I turned around, to see him breathing down my neck too.

It added to the tension.

My plan was still to enter by the back door.

We slipped up the alley between the two sheds to the rear corner and stopped. I heard a noise coming from the rear of the building, and the light tap on the shoulder told me Annette had heard it too. I put my hand up to signal her to wait, and as a swirl of mist rolled in, I slipped around the corner heading towards where I’d last seen the glow of a cigarette.

The mist cleared, and we saw each other at the same time. He was a bearded man in battle fatigues, not the average dockside security guard.

He was quick, but my slight element of surprise was his undoing, and he was down and unconscious in less than a few seconds with barely a sound beyond the body hitting the ground. Zip ties secured his hands and legs, and tape his mouth. Annette joined me a minute after securing him.

A glance at the body then me, “I can see why they, whoever they are, sent you.”

She’d asked who I worked for, and I didn’t answer. It was best she didn’t know.

“Stay behind me,” I said, more urgency in my tone. If there was one, there’d be another.

Luck was with us so far. A man outside smoking meant no booby traps on the back door, and quite possibly there’d be none inside. But it indicated there were more men inside, and if so, it appeared they were very well trained. If that were the case, they would be formidable opponents.

The fear factor increased exponentially.

I slowly opened the door and looked in. A pale light shone from within the warehouse itself, one that was not bright enough to be detected from outside. None of the offices had lights on, so it was possible they were vacant. I realized then they had blacked out the windows. Why hadn’t someone checked this?

Once inside, the door closed behind us, progress was slow and careful. She remained directly behind me, gun ready to shoot anything that moved. I had a momentary thought for McCallister and his men, securing the perimeter.

At the end of the corridor, the extent of the warehouse stretched before us. The pale lighting made it seem like a vast empty cavern, except for a long trestle table along one side, and, behind it, stacks of wooden crates, some opened. It looked like a production line.

To get to the table from where we were was a ten-yard walk in the open. There was no cover. If we stuck to the walls, there was equally no cover and a longer walk.

We needed a distraction.

As if on cue, the two main entrances disintegrated into flying shrapnel accompanied by a deafening explosion that momentarily disoriented both Annette and I. Through the smoke and dust kicked up I saw three men appear from behind the wooden crates, each with what looked like machine guns, spraying bullets in the direction of the incoming SWAT members.

They never had a chance, cut down before they made ten steps into the building.

By the time I’d recovered, my head heavy, eyes watering and ears still ringing, I took several steps towards them, managing to take down two of the gunmen but not the third.

I heard a voice, Annette’s I think, yell out, “Oh, God, he’s got a trigger,” just before another explosion, though all I remember in that split second was a bright flash, the intense heat, something very heavy smashing into my chest knocking the wind out of me, and then the sensation of flying, just before I hit the wall.

I spent four weeks in an induced coma, three months being stitched back together and another six learning to do all those basic actions everyone took for granted. It was twelve months almost to the day when I was released from the hospital, physically, except for a few alterations required after being hit by shrapnel, looking the same as I always had.

But mentally? The document I’d signed on release said it all, ‘not fit for active duty; discharged’.

It was in the name of David Cheney. For all intents and purposes, Alistair McKenzie was killed in that warehouse, and for the first time ever, an agent left the Department, the first to retire alive.

I was not sure I liked the idea of making history.

© Charles Heath 2016-2020

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to go on a treasure hunt – Episode 19

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.

And the perils of writing on the fly often leads to back revisions to aid moving forward, and this is one of those occasions.  A few revisions were required.

 …

Short of jumping over the side, there was no way we were getting away.  And judging from the expression on Rico’s face, now very plain to see halfway along the pier, he was not happy to see us.

Boggs stepped off the deck and joined me on the pier, just as Rico made it to where we were standing, just as it started in a gentle up and down motion with the water, churned up by a passing speed boat, but it was fear rather than the pier’s motions making me feel sick.

The sound of another boat caused me to glance in the opposite direction, out towards the sandbar, where I could see another large boat coming in our direction very quickly, and by the shape of it, quite possibly a police launch or the coast guard. 

Rico had seen it too.  “What have you done?”

“I called the police,” I said, trying to act braver than I felt.  Even with the police on their way, Rico could still do something we’d all regret.

“Why?”

Movement by the fishing store caught my eye, and I saw it was two of the men who’d left the boat with Rico earlier, retreating.  They’d seen the situation and were retreating.  A police car with its siren blaring and lights flashing just stopped at the entrance to the pier and two officers were getting out, guns in hand.

Those men would getaway.  Rico had seen them too and looked relieved.  Odd for a man about to find himself in a lot of trouble.

Boggs blurted out, “There’s a dead body in the cabin.”

Rico shook his head.  “That’s not possible.  I’ve been gone for an hour and it isn’t possible he put himself there.”

He looked around to see the officers coming from the land side of the pier.  There was no escape for him, or for us, but this could still end up a sticky situation for us if Rico decided to shoot his way out.  Boggs said he owned a gun, and if it was not on him, it might be in the boat.

Rico climbed on board and then moved to the hatch.  He lifted the hatch cover and folded it back to show an opening into the cabin.  It hadn’t been locked; it just looked like it was.  Just as the officers made it to the boat, he stepped in, then down into the cabin.

A minute later, when he came up  Rico looked visibly shaken like he’d seen a ghost.

The police launch had arrived just off the stern, kicking up the water and causing the boat and pier to rock violently, two men at either end ready to secure their boat to ours.  The land-based officers also arrived, somewhat out of breath, to join Boggs and I on the pier.

I recognised the officer who appeared to be in charge, a man called Johnson, the police chief’s deputy.  He was known to shoot first and ask questions later.  What worried me the most, he had his gun drawn and ready to shoot.

He looked at me, Rico, Boggs, then back to me.  “What’s this all about?”

“There’s a body in the cabin,” Boggs said before I could say a word, still sounding very frightened, but whether it was the body in the cabin, Rico’s fury at his meddling or the fact the police were involved was hard to say.

He switched his glare to Rico.  “That true?”

Rico nodded.  “I don’t know where it came from, but it wasn’t there an hour ago.”  A last look back at the cabin, he stepped off the boat onto the pier.

The seaman aboard the police launch slipped a rope over the bollard at the rear of our boat and then jumped on board to secure it.  Another seaman did the same at the bow.  Two more jumped on board, one covering Rico and the other going into the cabin.

When he came back up on deck he was talking into his cell phone.

I think Rico had a lot of explaining to do.

 …

© Charles Heath 2019

The 2 a.m. Rant: When you know you’re getting old

You know that you are getting old when sitting at a table where only one person is less than 65.

There were just over a dozen of us, meeting up a few years back for my older brother’s 70th birthday.

I have to say, from the outset, that I never expected him to live that long, but when you take into consideration the longevity of our parents, my father reached 99 and my mother 96, it’s no longer a surprise.

As for me, I’m 73 this year, and there are three years between us.

Something else I hadn’t realised, but what possibly seems coincidental is the age difference between our granddaughters, which is also three years. One is 23, another is 19 and the youngest 16.

But…

It was interesting to finally meet a number of the guests, as, for many, many years, I’d only heard of them in passing conversation. This is because we very rarely manage to get down from Brisbane to Melbourne to catch up, and almost never when my brother has had one of these rare get-togethers.

Of course, these people had known him for years, and there was a thread that bound them together.

Stamps.

They were all stamp collectors.

I remember a long, long time ago, I used to collect stamps, but I did not have the same passion for collecting as my brother did, and if truth be told, I was a little jealous.

And he had a Stanley Gibbons catalogue that could put a value on every stamp. That, to me, showed dedication.

I just bought stamps that were big and colourful from obscure countries no one had ever heard of. But, in another sense, it was where I learned a lot about the British Commonwealth. Some of those African member countries were those same obscure places I had stamps for.

Then, when I could no longer be bothered, I just handed the lot to him and said he could do with them what he would.

Naturally, at this gathering, we didn’t talk about stamps.

In fact, after describing myself as the black sheep, well, grey sheep on account of the hair, it seemed we became the centre of attention.

To be honest, I expected the lunch to last an hour, but who knew there was so much to talk about, even though I really can’t remember much of it other than it lasted almost three hours. That’s a lot of time talking about nothing.

But I guess when you reach that golden age, time ceases to have any real meaning.

We now have a standing invitation to return, and since time is running out for all of us, it’s probably wise to not take so long to return.

What I learned about writing – A story can go in many different directions

The Story’s Fork in the Road: Navigating Multiple Paths (or How Many Roads Should You Pave?)

Ah, the delicious agony of the writer’s mind! You’re deep into a scene, a character’s decision point, or a pivotal plot twist, and suddenly—BAM!—five equally compelling, utterly captivating directions unfurl before you. Each one a glittering promise, a potential masterpiece.

Do you freeze, overwhelmed by the narrative labyrinth? Do you toss a coin? Or do you bravely (or foolishly) attempt to build five different narrative highways? This, my friends, is the quintessential writer’s dilemma, and one we’ve all grappled with.

Let’s break it down.

The Agony of Choice: Why It’s So Hard

First, let’s acknowledge why this is such a powerful struggle. It’s not a sign of weakness; it’s a testament to your boundless creativity. Each of those five paths represents a fully formed world, a different emotional journey, a distinct thematic exploration. Choosing one feels like abandoning four perfectly good children at the orphanage of your imagination. You fear:

  • Missing the “Best” Story: What if the path you don’t take was the one that would have won the Pulitzer?
  • Wasting Potential: All that rich imagery, those intriguing character possibilities… gone?
  • Regret: The lingering “what if” can haunt future drafts.

So, how do we navigate this creative crossroads?

Part 1: How Do We Know We’ve Chosen the “Right” One?

The short, honest answer? You don’t. Not with 100% certainty, at least not at first. But you can make the most informed, intentional choice for this particular story. Here’s how to approach it:

  1. Revisit Your Core Vision & Theme:
    • What is the absolute heart of your story? What are you really trying to say?
    • What is the central question or conflict you’re exploring?
    • Which of the five paths most profoundly serves this core message or theme? Which one amplifies it, complicates it, or brings it into sharper relief?
  2. Follow the Character’s Deepest Arc:
    • Where does your protagonist need to go to achieve their most meaningful growth or transformation?
    • Which path forces them to confront their greatest fears, make their hardest choices, or truly earn their redemption (or downfall)?
    • Sometimes, the “right” path isn’t the easiest or most obvious, but the one that most rigorously tests your characters.
  3. Consider the Emotional Impact:
    • Which path elicits the strongest emotional response in you?
    • Which one feels most compelling, most resonant, most likely to move a reader?
    • Don’t underestimate your gut feeling. Your intuition, honed by countless hours of reading and writing, often knows best.
  4. Outline Each Path (Briefly):
    • You don’t need to write five full drafts. Take an hour or two and jot down a very brief outline for each of the five directions.
    • Where does each path start? What are its key turning points? Where does it logically end?
    • Seeing them laid out, even in skeletal form, often reveals which one has the most inherent dramatic tension, sustained conflict, or satisfying resolution.
  5. Listen to the Story’s Whisper:
    • Sometimes, one path just feels alive. The dialogue sparkles, the imagery flows effortlessly, the next scene already plays out in your head. That’s often the story telling you which way it wants to go. Trust that energy.

Ultimately, the “right” path is often the one you commit to with confidence and conviction, knowing it serves your story’s deepest purpose.

Part 2: Should We Write Five Different Versions of the Same Story?

This is where the practicalities of writing meet the boundless nature of imagination.

The Temptation: “Wouldn’t it be amazing to see how each version played out? What if they could be a series? Or alternate universe novels?”

The Reality (for most): Writing five different versions of the same story simultaneously is a monumental undertaking that can lead to burnout, analysis paralysis, and ultimately, five unfinished manuscripts.

However, there’s a nuanced approach:

  1. The “What If” File:
    • Don’t discard those other brilliant ideas! Create a “What If” document or a story bible where you meticulously log these alternate paths.
    • Note down the potential plot points, character developments, thematic explorations, and even snippets of dialogue.
    • This frees up your current WIP while preserving those ideas for future projects. Many successful series or spin-offs are born from these discarded “what ifs.”
  2. Experiment in Short Bursts:
    • If you’re truly torn, write a single scene or a very short chapter (500-1000 words) for the top two or three contenders.
    • See which one “sings.” Which one feels most natural to write? This micro-experimentation can often clarify your choice without committing to full drafts.
  3. Future Projects, Not Current:
    • Recognise that those other four paths aren’t failures; they’re fertile ground for future stories.
    • Perhaps one becomes a standalone novel set in the same world, exploring a different character. Maybe another becomes a prequel or a sequel.
    • View them as seeds, not fully grown trees; you have to nurture all at once.
  4. The Luxury of Revision:
    • Remember, you’re not carving your story in stone with your first draft. Write a version. See it through.
    • During revision, you might realise an earlier “what if” path actually does serve your story better, and you can pivot. But it’s much easier to pivot from a complete (even flawed) draft than from five fragments.

The “Right” Path is Often the One You Finish (and Polish)

Ultimately, the most important decision isn’t which path is objectively “best,” but which path you will commit to finishing, refining, and sharing with the world. A perfectly chosen, but incomplete, story has no impact. A story chosen with conviction, even one that had four other contenders, can move mountains.

So, trust your instincts, revisit your story’s core, outline your options, and then, pick a road. Pave it with your words, your sweat, and your heart. And know that those other roads? They’ll be there, waiting for another journey, another story, another day.


What’s your strategy when your story branches into multiple paths? Share your tips in the comments below!

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 173

Day 173 – The unrelenting thriller

Grab ’Em by the Throat: How to Write an Unrelenting Thriller

Legendary director Billy Wilder, the man behind Double Indemnity and Sunset Boulevard, had a simple, brutal piece of advice for storytellers: “Grab ’em by the throat and never let ’em go.”

In the world of thrillers, this isn’t just a stylistic choice—it is a functional necessity. If the reader stops to breathe, they might realise they’re holding a book. If they catch their breath, they might put it down to do the dishes or check their phone.

To create a truly unrelenting thriller, you have to treat your narrative like a chokehold. Here is how you master the grip.


1. The Hook isn’t a Suggestion—It’s a Siege

Most writers open with a scene-setter, a bit of atmosphere, or a slow burn. In an unrelenting thriller, that is a death sentence for your pacing.

Do not start with the protagonist waking up. Start with the moment their world shatters. Start with the body in the trunk, the phone call that shouldn’t be happening, or the gun pointed at their chest. The “throat-grabbing” begins on the very first page. If you spend three chapters building up to the inciting incident, you’ve already lost the reader’s adrenaline.

2. High Stakes, Higher Costs

An unrelenting thriller requires constant pressure. But pressure is meaningless if the protagonist has nothing to lose.

To keep the reader breathless, every decision your protagonist makes must cost them something. If they escape one trap, they should lose a vital tool, a piece of information, or a loved one in the process. Never let a victory be a clean one. By constantly stripping away their defences, you make the reader feel the desperation you’re trying to convey.

3. Kill the “Lull”

In screenwriting, we often talk about “beats.” In a thriller, these beats should feel like a rhythmic thumping—a heartbeat that never slows down.

If you find yourself writing a scene where two characters sit down for a long conversation to “explain the plot,” rewrite it. Move the scene to a moving vehicle. Put them in a building that’s burning down. The setting should always be working against the characters. If the scene is about information, make the delivery of that information dangerous.

4. The Principle of “Worst Case Scenario”

Whenever your protagonist thinks they’ve found a solution, present them with an even more terrifying problem.

This is the “never let ’em go” part of the Wilder philosophy. An unrelenting thriller is a series of escalating complications. Think of a staircase: every time the hero reaches a landing, they realise the stairs ahead are crumbling. Don’t give them a moment to process the last trauma before throwing the next one at them.

5. Short Sentences, Sharp Prose

The way you write affects the way the reader breathes. When you want the pace to accelerate, shorten your sentences. Use punchy, active verbs. Eliminate the modifiers that slow down the eye.

  • The long, winding, reflective sentence acts as a meditative pause, allowing the reader to lean back in their chair.
  • But this? This hits.

Use white space. Give the reader paragraphs that look like jagged shards of glass. It forces the reader’s eyes to move faster down the page, subconsciously mimicking the frantic pace of the plot.

6. The Psychological Clamp

Finally, remember that the most intense thrillers are internal. The reader needs to be gripped not just by the external danger, but by the protagonist’s psyche. We need to feel their sweat, their racing heart, and their irrational fear. Connect the reader’s nerves directly to the protagonist’s nervous system.

When your character is terrified, the reader should be checking the locks on their own doors.


The Takeaway

Billy Wilder knew that audiences are fickle. They want to be entertained, but more importantly, they want to be possessed by a story.

To write an unrelenting thriller, you must be a ruthless architect of tension. Stop being polite to your characters. Stop saving them. Keep the pressure on, keep the stakes rising, and keep your hands locked firmly around the reader’s attention span.

Don’t let go until the final period.

In a word: Hide

Hide and seek

As children, we all played hide and seek, where one person counted to a hundred and all the others hid themselves and you had to find them.

I was the spoilsport; I gave up looking very quickly because the kids I played with were very good at hiding.

You have some hide

Well, this means someone you know and probably hate has insulted you, or you’d you something you really did want to know

It’s an old expression often used by my mother on her sister, mostly because her sister was wiser and more sensible and sometimes sailed too close to the wind telling her the painful truth

Sailing too close to the wind?  Yes, quite an interesting analogy – saying what is true without heed to the consequences or taking unnecessary risks.

We spent the morning in the hide

Ah, to be a birdwatcher.  These are in my experience a very strange bunch.  I prefer to be a trainspotter, but then we have been described as a very strange bunch.

However, not to be distracted, birdwatchers hand out in hides and camouflaged buildings where they can observe birds in their natural habitat without disturbing them.

And the camera some of these watchers have a very expensive.

Then, of course, there are the hunters, who lie in wait for say duck season to start, then shoot them.

It’s not my idea of fun, nor does it seem sporting.

We use cowhide to make shoes

After sending it to the tannery.  Animal hides have Bern used over the centuries for many purposes such as clothes, shoes and bags.

Sheep hides make excellent fluffy mats beside the bed.

Mink hides were once used in fur coats, but now it’s frowned upon.

An excerpt from “The Things We Do for Love”; In love, Henry was all at sea!

In the distance, he could hear the dinner bell ringing and roused himself.  Feeling the dampness of the pillow and fearing the ravages of pent-up emotion, he considered not going down but thought it best not to upset Mrs Mac, especially after he said he would be dining.

In the event, he wished he had reneged, especially when he discovered he was not the only guest staying at the hotel.

Whilst he’d been reminiscing, another guest, a young lady, had arrived.  He’d heard her and Mrs Mac coming up the stairs and then shown to a room on the same floor, perhaps at the other end of the passage.

Henry caught his first glimpse of her when she appeared at the door to the dining room, waiting for Mrs Mac to show her to a table.

She was in her mid-twenties, slim, with long brown hair, and the grace and elegance of a woman associated with countless fashion magazines.  She was, he thought, stunningly beautiful with not a hair out of place, and make-up flawlessly applied.  Her clothes were black, simple, elegant, and expensive, the sort an heiress or wife of a millionaire might condescend to wear to a lesser occasion than dinner.

Then there was her expression; cold, forbidding, almost frightening in its intensity.  And her eyes, piercingly blue and yet laced with pain.  Dracula’s daughter was his immediate description of her.

All in all, he considered, the only thing they had in common was, like him, she seemed totally out of place.

Mrs Mac came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.  She was, she informed him earlier, chef, waitress, hotelier, barmaid, and cleaner all rolled into one.  Coming up to the new arrival, she said, “Ah, Miss Andrews, I’m glad you decided to have dinner.  Would you like to sit with Mr Henshaw, or would you like to have a table of your own?”

Henry could feel her icy stare as she sized up his appeal as a dining companion, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up.  He purposely didn’t look back.  In his estimation, his appeal rating was minus six.  Out of a thousand!

“If Mr Henshaw doesn’t mind….”  She looked at him, leaving the query in mid-air.

He didn’t mind and said so.  Perhaps he’d underestimated his rating.

“Good.”  Mrs Mac promptly ushered her over.  Henry stood, made sure she was seated properly and sat.

“Thank you.  You are most kind.”  The way she said it suggested snobbish overtones.

“I try to be when I can.”  It was supposed to nullify her sarcastic tone, but it made him sound a little silly, and when she gave him another of her icy glares, he regretted it.

Mrs Mac quickly intervened, asking, “Would you care for the soup?”

They did, and, after writing the order on her pad, she gave them each a look, imperceptibly shook her head, and returned to the kitchen.

Before Michelle spoke to him again, she had another quick look at him, trying to fathom who and what he might be.  There was something about him.

His eyes mirrored the same sadness she felt, and, yes, there was something else, that it looked like he had been crying.  There was a tinge of redness.

Perhaps, she thought, he was here for the same reason she was.

No.  That wasn’t possible.

Then she said, without thinking, “Do you have any particular reason for coming here?”  Seconds later, she realised she’d spoken it out loud, hadn’t meant to actually ask, it just came out.

It took him by surprise, obviously not the first question he was expecting her to ask of him.

“No, other than it is as far from civilisation, and home as I could get.”

At least we agree on that, she thought.

It was obvious he was running away from something as well.

Given the isolation of the village and lack of geographic hospitality, it was, from her point of view, ideal.  All she had to do was avoid him, and that wouldn’t be difficult.

After getting through this evening first.

“Yes,” she agreed.  “It is that.”

A few seconds passed, and she thought she could feel his eyes on her and wasn’t going to look up.

Until he asked, “What’s your reason?”

Slightly abrupt in manner, perhaps, because of her question and how she asked it.

She looked up.  “Rest.  And have some time to myself.”

She hoped he would notice the emphasis she had placed on the word ‘herself’ and take due note.  No doubt, she thought, she had completely different ideas of what constituted a holiday than he, not that she had said she was here for a holiday.

Mrs Mac arrived at a fortuitous moment to save them from further conversation.

Over the entree, she wondered if she had made a mistake coming to the hotel.  Of course, there had been no conceivable way she could know that anyone else might have booked the same hotel, but she realised it was foolish to think she might end up in it by herself.

Was that what she was expecting?

Not a mistake then, but an unfortunate set of circumstances, which could be overcome by being sensible.

Yet, there he was, and it made her curious, not that he was a man, by himself, in the middle of nowhere, hiding like she was, but for quite varied reasons.

On discreet observation, whilst they ate, she gained the impression his air of light-heartedness was forced, and he had no sense of humour.

This feeling was engendered by his looks, unruly dark hair, and permanent frown.  And then there was his abysmal taste in clothes on a tall, lanky frame.  They were quality but totally unsuited to the wearer.

Rebellion was written all over him.

The only other thought crossing her mind, and incongruously, was that he could do with a decent feed.  In that respect, she knew now from the mountain of food in front of her, he had come to the right place.

“Mr Henshaw?”

He looked up.  “Henshaw is too formal.  Henry sounds much better,” he said, with a slight hint of gruffness.

“Then my name is Michelle.”

Mrs Mac came in to take their order for the only main course, gather up the entree dishes, and then return to the kitchen.

“Staying long?” she asked.

“About three weeks.  Yourself?”

“About the same.”

The conversation dried up.

Neither looked at the other, but rather at the walls, out the window, towards the kitchen, anywhere.  It was, she thought, unbearably awkward.

Mrs Mac returned with a large tray with dishes on it, setting it down on the table next to theirs.

“Not as good as the usual cook,” she said, serving up the dinner expertly, “but it comes a good second, even if I do say so myself.  Care for some wine?”

Henry looked at Michelle.  “What do you think?”

“I’m used to my dining companions making the decision.”

You would, he thought.  He couldn’t help but notice the cutting edge of her tone.  Then, to Mrs Mac, he named a particular White Burgundy he liked, and she bustled off.

“I hope you like it,” he said, acknowledging her previous comment with a smile that had nothing to do with humour.

“Yes, so do I.”

Both made a start on the main course, a concoction of chicken and vegetables that were delicious, Henry thought when compared to the bland food he received at home and sometimes aboard my ship.

It was five minutes before Mrs Mac returned with the bottle and two glasses.  After opening it and pouring the drinks, she left them alone again.

Henry resumed the conversation.  “How did you arrive?  I came by train.”

“By car.”

“Did you drive yourself?”

And he thought, a few seconds later, that was a silly question; otherwise, she would not be alone, and certainly not sitting at this table. With him.

“After a fashion.”

He could see that she was formulating a retort in her mind, then changed it, instead, smiling for the first time, and it served to lighten the atmosphere.

And in doing so, it showed him she had another, more pleasant side despite the fact she was trying not to look happy.

“My father reckons I’m just another of ‘those’ women drivers,” she added.

“Whatever for?”

“The first and only time he came with me, I had an accident.  I ran up the back of another car.  Of course, it didn’t matter to him that the other driver was driving like a startled rabbit.”

“It doesn’t help,” he agreed.

“Do you drive?”

“Mostly people up the wall.”  His attempt at humour failed.  “Actually,” he added quickly, “I’ve got a very old Morris that manages to get me where I’m going.”

The apple pie and cream for dessert came and went, and the rapport between them improved as the wine disappeared and the coffee came.  Both had found, after getting to know each other better, that their first impressions were not necessarily correct.

“Enjoy the food?” Mrs Mac asked, suddenly reappearing.

“Beautifully cooked and delicious to eat,” Michelle said, and Henry endorsed her remarks.

“Ah, it does my heart good to hear such genuine compliments,” she said, smiling.  She collected the last of the dishes and disappeared yet again.

“What do you do for a living?” Michelle asked in an offhand manner.

He had a feeling she was not particularly interested, and it was just making conversation.

“I’m a purser.”

“A what?”

“A purser.  I work on a ship doing the paperwork, that sort of thing.”

“I see.”

“And you?”

“I was a model.”

“Was?”

“Until I had an accident, a rather bad one.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

So that explained the odd feeling he had about her.

As the evening wore on, he began to think there might be something wrong, seriously wrong with her because she didn’t look too well.  Even the carefully applied makeup, from close, didn’t hide the very pale, tired look, or the sunken, dark-ringed eyes.

“I try not to think about it, but it doesn’t necessarily work.  I’ve come here for peace and quiet, away from doctors and parents.”

“Then you will not have to worry about me annoying you.  I’m one of those fall-asleep-reading-a-book types.”

Perhaps it would be like ships passing in the night, and then he smiled to himself about the analogy.

Dinner over, they separated.

Henry went back to the lounge to read a few pages of his book before going to bed, and Michelle went up to her room to retire for the night.

But try as he might, he was unable to read, his mind dwelling on the unusual, yet compellingly mysterious person he would be sharing the hotel with.

Overlaying that original blurred image of her standing in the doorway was another of her haunting expressions that had, he finally conceded, taken his breath away, and a look that had sent more than one tingle down his spine.

She may not have thought much of him, but she had certainly made an impression on him.

© Charles Heath 2015-2024

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 discovered 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

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 173

Day 173 – The unrelenting thriller

Grab ’Em by the Throat: How to Write an Unrelenting Thriller

Legendary director Billy Wilder, the man behind Double Indemnity and Sunset Boulevard, had a simple, brutal piece of advice for storytellers: “Grab ’em by the throat and never let ’em go.”

In the world of thrillers, this isn’t just a stylistic choice—it is a functional necessity. If the reader stops to breathe, they might realise they’re holding a book. If they catch their breath, they might put it down to do the dishes or check their phone.

To create a truly unrelenting thriller, you have to treat your narrative like a chokehold. Here is how you master the grip.


1. The Hook isn’t a Suggestion—It’s a Siege

Most writers open with a scene-setter, a bit of atmosphere, or a slow burn. In an unrelenting thriller, that is a death sentence for your pacing.

Do not start with the protagonist waking up. Start with the moment their world shatters. Start with the body in the trunk, the phone call that shouldn’t be happening, or the gun pointed at their chest. The “throat-grabbing” begins on the very first page. If you spend three chapters building up to the inciting incident, you’ve already lost the reader’s adrenaline.

2. High Stakes, Higher Costs

An unrelenting thriller requires constant pressure. But pressure is meaningless if the protagonist has nothing to lose.

To keep the reader breathless, every decision your protagonist makes must cost them something. If they escape one trap, they should lose a vital tool, a piece of information, or a loved one in the process. Never let a victory be a clean one. By constantly stripping away their defences, you make the reader feel the desperation you’re trying to convey.

3. Kill the “Lull”

In screenwriting, we often talk about “beats.” In a thriller, these beats should feel like a rhythmic thumping—a heartbeat that never slows down.

If you find yourself writing a scene where two characters sit down for a long conversation to “explain the plot,” rewrite it. Move the scene to a moving vehicle. Put them in a building that’s burning down. The setting should always be working against the characters. If the scene is about information, make the delivery of that information dangerous.

4. The Principle of “Worst Case Scenario”

Whenever your protagonist thinks they’ve found a solution, present them with an even more terrifying problem.

This is the “never let ’em go” part of the Wilder philosophy. An unrelenting thriller is a series of escalating complications. Think of a staircase: every time the hero reaches a landing, they realise the stairs ahead are crumbling. Don’t give them a moment to process the last trauma before throwing the next one at them.

5. Short Sentences, Sharp Prose

The way you write affects the way the reader breathes. When you want the pace to accelerate, shorten your sentences. Use punchy, active verbs. Eliminate the modifiers that slow down the eye.

  • The long, winding, reflective sentence acts as a meditative pause, allowing the reader to lean back in their chair.
  • But this? This hits.

Use white space. Give the reader paragraphs that look like jagged shards of glass. It forces the reader’s eyes to move faster down the page, subconsciously mimicking the frantic pace of the plot.

6. The Psychological Clamp

Finally, remember that the most intense thrillers are internal. The reader needs to be gripped not just by the external danger, but by the protagonist’s psyche. We need to feel their sweat, their racing heart, and their irrational fear. Connect the reader’s nerves directly to the protagonist’s nervous system.

When your character is terrified, the reader should be checking the locks on their own doors.


The Takeaway

Billy Wilder knew that audiences are fickle. They want to be entertained, but more importantly, they want to be possessed by a story.

To write an unrelenting thriller, you must be a ruthless architect of tension. Stop being polite to your characters. Stop saving them. Keep the pressure on, keep the stakes rising, and keep your hands locked firmly around the reader’s attention span.

Don’t let go until the final period.