Category: Books

Memories of the conversations with my cat – 38

As some may be aware, but many are not, Chester, my faithful writing assistant, mouse catcher, and general pain in the neck, passed away some years ago.

Recently, I was running a series based on his adventures, titled “Past Conversations with My Cat.”

For those who have not had the chance to read about all of his exploits, I will run the series again from Episode 1

These are the memories of our time together…

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This is Chester.  We’re back to discussing topics of interest on the internet.

I’m not sure why, because yesterday, after a few minutes, he yawned and went to sleep.

Today, it seems, he’s prepared to show more interest.

There seems, I said, to be a lot of discussion around writer’s block.

You mean, those lumps of wood you keep putting on the fire, he says.  And, while we’re at it, why haven’t you got one going today?  It’s cold.

I thought we were on the same page, injured elbow, can’t use the axe.

A slight shake of the head, as if to say, I can’t remember everything you say.

OK, moving on.  Writer’s block is not about wood.

Come to think of it, haven’t we got a shed full of wood, you cut it up last year?

Enough with the wood already.  Writer’s block.  The only block I can see that’s preventing me from writing is you.

Yawn.

Yep, conversation over.

Time to make some tea.  He doesn’t like that.  I wonder if the makers of the tea would want to know that it makes an excellent cat repellent?

The cinema of my dreams – Was it just another surveillance job? – Episode 4

I didn’t get the last part of the opening sequence sorted until after we arrived in Vancouver.  I made a start on it before breakfast was served, though it was rather odd calling it breakfast when outside the plane it was nearly six in the afternoon.

In finishing it much later, I think I’ve come up with a different direction to the one I planned, but in truth, I was never happy with where it was going from the start.

That’s why I prefer to plot on the run so that it doesn’t necessarily get bogged down with a certain result in mind.  For me, that is the biggest bugbear is writing to a plan.  For some, though, I’m sure it works.  For me, not so much.

So, what happened to the rest of the team?

 

Just in case I’d made a mistake, I kept one eye on the target, who seemed to be consumed by the events unfolding, and another taking a wider search of the surrounding area to make doubly sure the team was still in control of the mission.

They were not.

A hundred yards back in the direction I’d first seen the target heading when the explosion took me out of play, I found one of the team, Jack, a relatively new member of the surveillance division, roughly hidden behind a dumpster, dead, a victim of a clean, accurate, and methodical stab wound to the heart.  No noise from the weapon, or the victim.

The target knew we were onto him.  It also meant that it was likely the other two members of the team were also out of play, I preferred not to think they might be equally dead, and I didn’t think the chances were good that he might not know about me.

It wasn’t a good sign that he had come back to the site of the explosion because I doubted someone of his stature had time to stand around and watch a search and rescue.

And if he was looking for me I had to make sure he didn’t find me.  Good thing then it was exactly what I was thinking when he turned and started to scan the outer perimeter, as I had, and just managed to miss his gaze in my direction.

Yes, he was definitely looking for me, so it was a good bet he had tortured one of the others to get the information he needed.

All the more reason for me to take him down.

I moved closer, all the time keeping him under surveillance and avoiding his searching eyes. 

Then, satisfied I was not at this location, he started moving to the next, before I’d last seen him in the distance.  It was the epicentre of the explosion and the one where there was a high concentration of police and rescue workers.

He stopped.  I used the cover of the confusion, and in a way, a very efficient organization, to move closer.

I saw him take another look around, perhaps he suspected I might be near, then again satisfied, moved on.

It was clear I was not going to be able to take him on while we were in the immediate vicinity of the explosion, there were too many witnesses.  Perhaps he was hoping that the abundance of cover would aid his mission.

He stopped again, among a smaller group of observers, and checked both sides of the line.  From there he had two choices, to consider if I had retraced my steps, or gone ahead thinking I might catch up to him.  Obviously, he’d realized I’d not kept up, and it had been due to the explosion.

Just as he was about to see me on another sweep, a minor explosion of sorts came from the main disaster site, what sounded like part of the structure collapsing, which explained dust rising into the air, and when my attention returned to the spot I’d last seen him, he was gone.

Not a good sign.  He could be anywhere.

But he wasn’t just anywhere.

“Sam?”

It was an unfamiliar voice, not expected, but I’d been more or less wary from the moment I lost sight of him.  And because I had been alert, it saved me from a far worse injury.  I felt the knife thrust through the fleshy part of my side and caught him with my elbow to the side of his head which sent him sprawling and knocking the knife out of his hand and sliding into the area where three bystanders were.

The scuffled turned their attention to him first on the ground, and then hastily getting to his feet and running away, leaving the weapon behind and me chasing after him.

No one said a word.

And this time he didn’t have a very big break on me and driven by rage at what he had done to the members of my team, it didn’t take long to catch up, in a place where we were alone.

In those few steps I’d made up my mind, he was not going to walk away from this.

 

So, is revenge on the menu, or something else?

 

©  Charles Heath 2019

 

Writing a book in 365 days – 200/201

Days 200 and 201

Writing Exercise

…

Love strikes you when you least expect it, and quite often, not the person you thought it would be.

The thing is, I wasn’t looking and had made up my mind that studies came first, then a good job, save some money, and be prepared for anything.

But saying you’re not interested, and what seems to be the woman of your dreams appearing out of left field, you have to wonder if fate has something else in store.

I thought it did for me.

It came in the form of one Maria Cagnoni, year two of a four-year engineering degree, diversifying into Space, and the second day of the first semester at the university, the astrophysics lecture.

She was late and made an entrance.

Professor Moriarty, yes, right out of a Sherlock Holmes detective story, was not amused. A normal student would just sneak on and blend into the back of the room.

Not Maria.

She was like a stick of dynamite with a burning fuse. Bright red skimpy dress, long flowing artificial curly blonde hair, and a supermodel manner. My first impression is a Marilyn Monroe lookalike.

Not a word was exchanged, but we all knew what the Professor was thinking, and as for Maria, I would have said she was oblivious to what was going on around her, except she knew and by the supercilious smirk on her face, all too well the effect she’d created.

Brenda Bailey, the girl whom I’d been duelling for best student every year since the start of grade school, just groaned. It was going to be very interesting to get her take on Maria’s arrival.

Maria was a new student, transferred from one of those Ivy League universities, one I would have liked to go to, and had been accepted into, but then my mother got sick. I seriously doubted Maria was here to do astrophysics, but I was quickly reminded not to judge a book by its cover.

Brenda had missed out, or so she told me, but being every bit as clever as I was, I didn’t question the story, I just had reservations. I might have considered at first that because I wasn’t going she wasn’t, but after she picked another boy to go the the prom, I knew that whatever I thought we had, it didn’t go both ways.

It had taken a year to get past that, and it still rankled, though I kept it to myself. But it did teach me one valuable lesson: don’t get tangled up with any girls. They were all tarred with the same brush.

I was having coffee at the nearby cafe minding my own business when Maria appeared in the doorway and quickly scanned the room.

Looking for someone? She saw me, the only face she recognised, and came over.

“I know you.”

“I beg to differ.” I gave her the trademark ‘go away’ look, which didn’t work. She pulled up a chair and sat down.

“I heard you’re the resident genius.”

I glared at her. Radkin was taking the mickey again. She was definitely his sort.

“You heard wrong. That would be Brenda.”

“Your ex?”

Yep, she’d been definitely talking to Radkin. He sussed the tension first year and figured we had broken up badly.

“There is nothing between us but air. I asked her to the prom, she turned me down, it took me by surprise, I stayed a month in Tuscany with my aunt and got over it. Go annoy her.”

“You always this prickly?”

“This is a good day. Try annoying me on a bad day. What the hell do you want anyway?”

Perhaps my brusque tone would get her to leave.

“What is your problem?”

OK, I finally got the response I was looking for. “What do you and Astrophysics have in common?”

“I would be here if I didn’t have the grades.”

She didn’t say it, but the intimation was loud and clear.

“Then I should be seeking you out as the resident genius. When I have a problem, I’ll come and see you.”

She shook her head. I don’t think the conversation went quite the way she had imagined it would. And if she were clever, the Professor would find some way of tormenting me. He had a reputation for creating groups of students and using them to create solutions to near-unsolvable problems.

Then she smiled and stood. “Challenge accepted.”

It seems I lost the first skirmish

…

©  Charles Heath  2025

Searching for locations: Queenstown, New Zealand, from the top of a mountain

You take the gondola up to the Skyline and get some of the most amazing views.

Below is a photo of The Remarkables, one of several ski resorts near Queenstown.

You can see the winding road going up the mountainside.  We have made this trip several times and it is particularly frightening in winter when chains are required.

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In the other direction, heading towards Kingston, the views of the mountains and the lake are equally as magnificent.

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Or manage to capture a photo of the Earnslaw making its way across the lake towards Walter Peak Farm.  It seems almost like a miniature toy.

I find myself in a very strange world

And I don’t know how I got here. I have a sneaking suspicion that I stepped through a portal, only I didn’t recognise it as one until I reached this side.

I say this side because the world I’m in now is not the world I remember from a while back, well, perhaps a year or so. Time passes very slowly here.

Before everything made sense, China didn’t hate us, and we had just finished touring some of the most remarkable sights of that very country.

There was no coronavirus and I didn’t fear for my life, and the fact I had a compromised immune system didn’t matter a hoot, except for the constant pain in my lower back and hands, the result of psoriatic arthritis going berserk as I get older.

My grandchildren were in school, alternately loving and hating it, and every Friday I would get one from school and she would tell me how her world was hell, and I had no idea what it was like.

Another would start all her sentences with ‘basically’, and the other would end hers with ‘like’.

I would lament the fact our schools no longer teach proper English, and we could sit around and talk about the YA novel I was writing for them, and that they were the characters in this mythical kingdom. And, yes, they are princesses, if not crotchety one day, and all smiles and goodness the next.

And, in an instant, that whole world was blown away.

Am I angry? I was. A year is too long to be mad at everyone and everything.

Have I a different outlook on life? Yes, I live every day as if it was my last, because the truth is, it just might be.

Can I travel anywhere? No. There’s too much risk in a world where few people under the age of 65 care about consequences.

Is there a reason to live? You may well ask.

I have thought about this often, lying awake in bed every morning, asking myself why I would bother getting up. I can’t go anywhere, I can’t do very much.

But…

We have here an almost remarkable record in keeping the coronavirus at bay, so we have some freedom. We can’t leave the country, and every other month a state or two closes its borders, so travelling outside the state is too risky. The schools are back, and I resumed pick-up duties last Friday, and, yes, the sweetness of the complaints about school life is like music to my ears.

Have I a reason to live? Yes. There are three girls, and grandchildren, one 13, one 16, and one 19. The 13-year-old is in the first year of secondary school, the 16-year-old lamenting the fourth year of secondary school, and the 19-year-old is about to embark on the terrors of tertiary education. She can also drive herself, a shred of independence that has changed her outlook, going from a child to someone more mature.

I hadn’t realized how much their lives were in such a constant state of change. Nor had I realized how much they prefer to tell me about it rather than their parents.

So, the answer to that deep and meaningful question is, is there a reason to live?

Yes. We can have so many things we think are essential to living our lives taken away, but in the end, they are all but superficial. You can lose a car, some of your mobility, a house, or any sort of chattel, but they are insignificant. What matters most, and always will, is family. I’m lucky, and indeed, extremely grateful, to have mine so near.

Now I suppose I should be getting to bed. Tomorrow, I have just been informed, I’m rostered on in what is known as ‘poppy’s taxi’.

And ready to hear the next enthralling episode of school life these days.

“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

Searching for locations: Gollums Pool, New Zealand

Tawhai Falls is a 13-meter high waterfall located in Tongariro National Park.

It is located about 4 km from the Tongariro National Park Visitor Centre, on State Highway 48.

An easy walk takes just 10-15 minutes to reach the waterfall’s lookout.

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The top of the falls.  There was not much water coming down the river to feed the falls when we were there in May

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Tawhai Falls is also the filming location of Gollum’s pool where Faramir and his archers are watching Gollum fish.

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It’s a rocky walk once you are down at ground level, and it may be not possible to walk along the side of the stream if the falls have more water coming down the river from the mountain.

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“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

Writing a book in 365 days – 200/201

Days 200 and 201

Writing Exercise

…

Love strikes you when you least expect it, and quite often, not the person you thought it would be.

The thing is, I wasn’t looking and had made up my mind that studies came first, then a good job, save some money, and be prepared for anything.

But saying you’re not interested, and what seems to be the woman of your dreams appearing out of left field, you have to wonder if fate has something else in store.

I thought it did for me.

It came in the form of one Maria Cagnoni, year two of a four-year engineering degree, diversifying into Space, and the second day of the first semester at the university, the astrophysics lecture.

She was late and made an entrance.

Professor Moriarty, yes, right out of a Sherlock Holmes detective story, was not amused. A normal student would just sneak on and blend into the back of the room.

Not Maria.

She was like a stick of dynamite with a burning fuse. Bright red skimpy dress, long flowing artificial curly blonde hair, and a supermodel manner. My first impression is a Marilyn Monroe lookalike.

Not a word was exchanged, but we all knew what the Professor was thinking, and as for Maria, I would have said she was oblivious to what was going on around her, except she knew and by the supercilious smirk on her face, all too well the effect she’d created.

Brenda Bailey, the girl whom I’d been duelling for best student every year since the start of grade school, just groaned. It was going to be very interesting to get her take on Maria’s arrival.

Maria was a new student, transferred from one of those Ivy League universities, one I would have liked to go to, and had been accepted into, but then my mother got sick. I seriously doubted Maria was here to do astrophysics, but I was quickly reminded not to judge a book by its cover.

Brenda had missed out, or so she told me, but being every bit as clever as I was, I didn’t question the story, I just had reservations. I might have considered at first that because I wasn’t going she wasn’t, but after she picked another boy to go the the prom, I knew that whatever I thought we had, it didn’t go both ways.

It had taken a year to get past that, and it still rankled, though I kept it to myself. But it did teach me one valuable lesson: don’t get tangled up with any girls. They were all tarred with the same brush.

I was having coffee at the nearby cafe minding my own business when Maria appeared in the doorway and quickly scanned the room.

Looking for someone? She saw me, the only face she recognised, and came over.

“I know you.”

“I beg to differ.” I gave her the trademark ‘go away’ look, which didn’t work. She pulled up a chair and sat down.

“I heard you’re the resident genius.”

I glared at her. Radkin was taking the mickey again. She was definitely his sort.

“You heard wrong. That would be Brenda.”

“Your ex?”

Yep, she’d been definitely talking to Radkin. He sussed the tension first year and figured we had broken up badly.

“There is nothing between us but air. I asked her to the prom, she turned me down, it took me by surprise, I stayed a month in Tuscany with my aunt and got over it. Go annoy her.”

“You always this prickly?”

“This is a good day. Try annoying me on a bad day. What the hell do you want anyway?”

Perhaps my brusque tone would get her to leave.

“What is your problem?”

OK, I finally got the response I was looking for. “What do you and Astrophysics have in common?”

“I would be here if I didn’t have the grades.”

She didn’t say it, but the intimation was loud and clear.

“Then I should be seeking you out as the resident genius. When I have a problem, I’ll come and see you.”

She shook her head. I don’t think the conversation went quite the way she had imagined it would. And if she were clever, the Professor would find some way of tormenting me. He had a reputation for creating groups of students and using them to create solutions to near-unsolvable problems.

Then she smiled and stood. “Challenge accepted.”

It seems I lost the first skirmish

…

©  Charles Heath  2025

“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