Category: Fiction

Writing a book in 365 days – 255

Day 255

Editing mistakes

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Sharpen Your Prose: Banishing Blunders Like Mixed Metaphors, Faulty Parallelism, and Tense Troubles

Ever read something that makes your brain do a little somersault? You know, where you start nodding along, then suddenly hit a snag, and have to backtrack to figure out what the writer actually meant? More often than not, these jarring moments stem from a few common writing errors.

Today, we’re going to tackle three of the most prevalent culprits: mixed metaphors, faulty parallelism, and incorrect tense. Mastering these will not only make your writing clearer and more impactful but will also elevate your credibility as a communicator. Let’s dive in!

The Tangled Web of Mixed Metaphors

Metaphors are beautiful things. They allow us to paint vivid pictures in our readers’ minds by likening one thing to another, creating deeper understanding and engagement. But when you try to weave too many disparate comparisons together, or let a metaphor stray too far from its original intent, you end up with a tangled, nonsensical mess.

The Goal: To use a single, consistent, and effective metaphor to illustrate a point.

The Blunder: Combining two or more unrelated metaphors, creating confusion and often unintentional humor.

Examples:

  • Wrong: “We need to get our ducks in a row before we can really hit the ground running and climb the ladder of success.”
    • Why it’s wrong: “Ducks in a row” implies organization and order. “Hit the ground running” suggests immediate action and speed. “Climb the ladder of success” is about progress and achievement. These are all fine individual ideas, but crammed together, they create a jumbled image. Are we a team of organized ducks, a sprinter, or a mountaineer?
  • Right: “We need to get our ducks in a row before we can begin implementing our new strategy.”
    • Why it’s right: This focuses solely on the “ducks in a row” metaphor, meaning to organize things properly, and it works.
  • Right: “We need to be ready to hit the ground running when the project launches.”
    • Why it’s right: This uses the “hit the ground running” metaphor to convey the need for immediate and energetic action.
  • Right: “Her dedication and hard work were instrumental in her climb up the ladder of success.”
    • Why it’s right: This uses the “ladder of success” metaphor effectively to describe career progression.

The Uneven Scales of Faulty Parallelism

Parallelism, or parallel structure, is about balance and rhythm in your writing. It means using the same grammatical form for elements in a series or comparison. When this balance is disrupted, your sentences can feel clunky and awkward, like a song with a broken beat.

The Goal: To present items in a series or comparison with consistent grammatical structure for clarity and flow.

The Blunder: Using different grammatical forms for elements that should be treated equally.

Examples:

  • Wrong: “She enjoys hiking, to read, and swimming.”
    • Why it’s wrong: “Hiking” is a gerund (verb acting as a noun). “To read” is an infinitive. “Swimming” is another gerund. The shift from gerund to infinitive and back breaks the parallel structure.
  • Right: “She enjoys hiking, reading, and swimming.”
    • Why it’s right: All elements are gerunds, creating a smooth and consistent list.
  • Right: “She enjoys to hike, to read, and to swim.”
    • Why it’s right: All elements are infinitives, also creating parallel structure.
  • Wrong: “The new software offers speed, efficiency, and it is easy to use.”
    • Why it’s wrong: “Speed” and “efficiency” are nouns. “It is easy to use” is a clause.
  • Right: “The new software offers speed, efficiency, and ease of use.”
    • Why it’s right: All elements are nouns, providing consistent structure.

The Shifting Sands of Incorrect Tense

Verb tense is the anchor that grounds your narrative in time. It tells your reader when an action is happening. Inconsistent or incorrect tense can lead to confusion about the sequence of events or the overall timeframe of your writing.

The Goal: To consistently use the appropriate verb tense to accurately reflect the time of the actions being described.

The Blunder: Shifting verb tenses unnecessarily within a sentence, paragraph, or narrative.

Examples:

  • Wrong: “Yesterday, I go to the store and buy some milk.”
    • Why it’s wrong: The action happened “yesterday,” which is in the past. The verbs should reflect this past action.
  • Right: “Yesterday, I went to the store and bought some milk.”
    • Why it’s right: Both verbs are in the simple past tense, accurately describing past events.
  • Wrong: “The character wakes up, realizes he is late, and runs for the bus.”
    • Why it’s wrong: While this can be used for vivid storytelling (present tense for immediacy), if the rest of the narrative is in the past tense, this shift is jarring.
  • Right (if the narrative is in the past): “The character woke up, realized he was late, and ran for the bus.”
    • Why it’s right: Consistent use of the past tense for a narrative set in the past.
  • Wrong: “She will tell you the secret if you ask her nicely.”
    • Why it’s wrong: Mixing future and present tense for actions that are concurrent or related in time.
  • Right: “She will tell you the secret if you ask her nicely.” (This is actually correct as it describes a future conditional event).
    • Let’s try another wrong example: “She told me that she will visit tomorrow.”
    • Why it’s wrong: “Told” is past tense, but “will visit” refers to a future event.
  • Right: “She told me that she would visit tomorrow.” (Using “would” for reported future in the past).
    • Or Right: “She tells me that she will visit tomorrow.” (If the telling is happening now).

Practice Makes Perfect (and Polished Prose!)

Don’t be discouraged if you find yourself making these errors. Most writers do, especially when they’re developing their voice. The key is to be aware of them and to actively proofread with these concepts in mind.

  • Read aloud: Hearing your writing can help you catch awkward phrasing and inconsistencies.
  • Enlist a fresh pair of eyes: Ask a friend or colleague to review your work.
  • Use grammar checkers: While not foolproof, they can highlight potential issues.
  • Study examples: Keep an eye out for effective (and ineffective) uses of metaphors, parallelism, and tense in the writing you admire.

By paying attention to these fundamental aspects of grammar and style, you can transform your writing from merely understandable to truly compelling. So, go forth and banish those blunders! Your readers will thank you for it.

Inspiration, Maybe – Volume 2

50 photographs, 50 stories, of which there is one of the 50 below.

They all start with –

A picture paints … well, as many words as you like.  For instance:

And, the story:

Have you ever watched your hopes and dreams simply just fly away?

Everything I thought I wanted and needed had just left in an aeroplane, and although I said I was not going to, i came to the airport to see the plane leave.  Not the person on it, that would have been far too difficult and emotional, but perhaps it was symbolic, the end of one life and the start of another.

But no matter what I thought or felt, we had both come to the right decision.  She needed the opportunity to spread her wings.  It was probably not the best idea for her to apply for the job without telling me, but I understood her reasons.

She was in a rut.  Though her job was a very good one, it was not as demanding as she had expected, particularly after the last promotion, but with it came resentment from others on her level, that she, the youngest of the group would get the position.

It was something that had been weighing down of her for the last three months, and if noticed it, the late nights, the moodiness, sometimes a flash of temper.  I knew she had one, no one could have such red hair and not, but she had always kept it in check.

And, then there was us, together, and after seven years, it felt like we were going nowhere.  Perhaps that was down to my lack of ambition, and though she never said it, lack of sophistication.  It hadn’t been an issue, well, not until her last promotion, and the fact she had to entertain more, and frankly I felt like an embarrassment to her.

So, there it was, three days ago, the beginning of the weekend, and we had planned to go away for a few days and take stock.  We both acknowledged we needed to talk, but it never seemed the right time.

It was then she said she had quit her job and found a new one.  Starting the following Monday.

Ok, that took me by surprise, not so much that it something I sort of guessed might happen, but that she would just blurt it out.

I think that right then, at that moment, I could feel her frustration with everything around her.

What surprised her was my reaction.  None.

I simply asked where who, and when.

A world-class newspaper, in New York, and she had to be there in a week.

A week.

It was all the time I had left with her.

I remember I just shrugged and asked if the planned weekend away was off.

She stood on the other side of the kitchen counter, hands around a cup of coffee she had just poured, and that one thing I remembered was the lone tear that ran down her cheek.

Is that all you want to know?

I did, yes, but we had lost that intimacy we used to have when she would have told me what was happening, and we would have brainstormed solutions. I might be a cabinet maker but I still had a brain, was what I overheard her tell a friend once.

There’s not much to ask, I said.  You’ve been desperately unhappy and haven’t been able to hide it all that well, you have been under a lot of pressure trying to deal with a group of troglodytes, and you’ve been leaning on Bentley’s shoulder instead of mine, and I get it, he’s got more experience in that place,  and the politics that go with it, and is still an ally.

Her immediate superior and instrumental in her getting the position, but unlike some men in his position he had not taken advantage of a situation like some men would.  And even if she had made a move, which I doubted, that was not the sort of woman she was, he would have politely declined.

One of the very few happily married men in that organisation, so I heard.

So, she said, you’re not just a pretty face.

Par for the course for a cabinet maker whose university degree is in psychology.  It doesn’t take rocket science to see what was happening to you.  I just didn’t think it was my place to jump in unless you asked me, and when you didn’t, well, that told me everything I needed to know.

Yes, our relationship had a use by date, and it was in the next few days.

I was thinking, she said, that you might come with me,  you can make cabinets anywhere.

I could, but I think the real problem wasn’t just the job.  It was everything around her and going with her, that would just be a constant reminder of what had been holding her back. I didn’t want that for her and said so.

Then the only question left was, what do we do now?

Go shopping for suitcases.  Bags to pack, and places to go.

Getting on the roller coaster is easy.  On the beginning, it’s a slow easy ride, followed by the slow climb to the top.  It’s much like some relationships, they start out easy, they require a little work to get to the next level, follows by the adrenaline rush when it all comes together.

What most people forget is that what comes down must go back up, and life is pretty much a roller coaster with highs and lows.

Our roller coaster had just come or of the final turn and we were braking so that it stops at the station.

There was no question of going with her to New York.  Yes, I promised I’d come over and visit her, but that was a promise with crossed fingers behind my back.  After a few months in t the new job the last thing shed want was a reminder of what she left behind.  New friends new life.

We packed her bags, three out everything she didn’t want, a free trips to the op shop with stiff she knew others would like to have, and basically, by the time she was ready to go, there was nothing left of her in the apartment, or anywhere.

Her friends would be seeing her off at the airport, and that’s when I told her I was not coming, that moment the taxi arrived to take her away forever.  I remember standing there, watching the taxi go.  It was going to be, and was, as hard as it was to watch the plane leave.

So, there I was, finally staring at the blank sky, around me a dozen other plane spotters, a rather motley crew of plane enthusiasts.

Already that morning there’s been 6 different types of plane depart, and I could hear another winding up its engines for take-off.

People coming, people going.

Maybe I would go to New York in a couple of months, not to see her, but just see what the attraction was.  Or maybe I would drop in, just to see how she was.

As one of my friends told me when I gave him the news, the future is never written in stone, and it’s about time you broadened your horizons.

Perhaps it was.

© Charles Heath 2020-2021

Coming soon.  Find the above story and 49 others like it in:

“Trouble in Store” – Short stories my way: Adding a catalyst

Just when there’s enough complication in the story, we could leave it there with the current three protagonists and see what happens.

But I like mayhem.

So rather than another customer, it’s time to add a complication; an off-duty policeman, or more to the point, policewoman.  A beat cop, if they still exist.

Her back story in a sentence or so:

…

It had been another long day at the office for Officer Margaret O’Donnell, or, out in the streets, coping with people who either didn’t know or didn’t care about the law.

People who couldn’t cross the road where there were crossings and lights to protect them, silly girls shoplifting on a dare, and boys who thought they were men and could walk on water.

The one they scraped off the road would never get to grow up, and his mother, well, she was not doing another call on a family to give them the bad news.

That was her day.  So far.

…

What is she doing near the shop?  She lives around the corner.  Perhaps she knows the reputation of the shopkeeper or perhaps not.  It’s not relevant, then, as it is a place she avoids.

Now, she may not have the option.  She sees the shop is still open, past the usual closing time.

Let’s continue:

…

She came around the corner into the street where she lived and saw the lights were on in the corner store.

She looked at her watch and saw it was ten minutes to midnight.  Long past closing time.  She looked through the window but from the other side of the road and could only see three heads and little else.

Damn, she thought, I’m going to have to check it out.  There were rumours, and she hoped they were not true.

…

Meanwhile, back in the shop how are the others faring?

The shopkeeper is in an invidious position, he can’t supply the kids with the drugs and get them out, not in front of the customer.

The fact the girl has a gun makes the situation almost impossible.  What would happen if he suggests the customer leave?  Without him, the situation would be simpler.

Alphonse had only a few moments to sum up the situation, and the sum of those deliberations was the remove the only problem, the customer.

He could still salvage this:

…

The shopkeeper changed his expression to one more placatory, and said quietly to the girl, ‘Look, this is not this chap’s problem.’  He nodded in the direction of the customer.  ‘I’m sure he’d rather not be here, and you would be glad of one less distraction.’

He could see she was wavering, she was not holding the gun so steadily, and the longer this dragged on, the more nervous and unpredictable she would become.

And in the longer game, the customer would sing his praises no matter what happened after he left.

The girl looked at Jack.  The shopkeeper was right.  If he wasn’t here this could be over.  But there was another problem.  It didn’t look like Simmo was in any shape to get away.  In fact, this was looking more like a suicide mission.

She waved the gun in his direction.  ‘Get out now, before I change my mind.’

As the gun turned to the shopkeeper, Jack wasn’t going to wait to be asked twice and started sidling towards the door.

…

What happens next?

And the story for this section, with a few minor changes:

It had been another long day at the office for Officer Margaret O’Donnell, or, out in the streets, coping with people who either didn’t know or didn’t care about the law.

People who couldn’t cross the road where there were crossings and lights to protect them, silly girls shoplifting on a dare, and boys who thought they were men and could walk on water.

The one they scraped of the road would never get to grow up, and his mother, well, she was not doing another call on a family to give them the bad news.

That was her day.  So far.  For now, she was glad to be getting home, putting her feet up, and forgetting about everything until the next morning when it would start all over again.

Coming around that last corner, the home stretch she called it, she was directly opposite the corner shop, usually closed at this hour of the night.  It was not.  The lights were still on.

She looked at her watch and saw it was ten minutes to midnight, and long past closing time.  She looked through the window but from the other side of the road and could only see three heads and little else.

Damn, she thought, I’m going to have to check it out.  There were rumours, and she hoped they were not true.

The shopkeeper changed his expression to one more placatory, and said quietly to the girl, ‘Look, this is not this chap’s problem.’  He nodded in the direction of the customer.  ‘I’m sure he’d rather not be here, and you would be glad of one less distraction.’

He could see she was wavering, she was not holding the gun so steadily, and the longer this dragged on, the more nervous and unpredictable she would become.

And in the longer game, the customer would sing his praises no matter what happened after he left.

The girl looked at Jack.  The shopkeeper was right.  If he wasn’t here this could be over.  But there was another problem.  It didn’t look like Simmo was in any shape to get away.  In fact, this was looking more like a suicide mission.

She waved the gun in his direction.  ‘Get out now, before I change my mind.’

As the gun turned to the shopkeeper, Jack wasn’t going to wait to be asked twice and started sidling towards the door.

Next:  Actions have consequences

© Charles Heath 2016-2023

The cinema of my dreams – Was it just another surveillance job – Episode 57

This story is now on the list to be finished so over the new few weeks, expect a new episode every few days.

The reason why new episodes have been sporadic, there are also other stories to write, and I’m not very good at prioritizing.

But, here we are, a few minutes opened up and it didn’t take long to get back into the groove.

Things are about to get complicated…

I hadn’t realised until I said it out loud to someone who would not understand the significance of it, just how far-fetched the reason was.

But in my newly adopted world, it made perfect sense.

 Spies dealt with many things, mostly the notion of a threat, and the removal of it, whether it is an object like a USB or a person, or persons, who could make the threat become a reality.

This threat started with a laboratory working for the military to produce biological weapons.  Then the funding stopped, for whatever reason, and the laboratory had to cover its losses.

What better way than to hawk the formula on the dark web?

Someone perceived that the laboratory would become a threat and dispatched operatives to monitor the situation.

The worst-case scenario occurs, but from a different standpoint, the outrage of a community-conscious scientist who didn’t like the idea of people creating monstrous weapons and steals the formula to leak to the media.

The laboratory is shut down by the government before the formula could be sold, but there is a copy in play via the scientist.

The scientist, and therefore the threat, neutralised.

The threat then moves to his wife, who contacts someone in the Department, likely but not necessarily Dobbin, who then assigns O’Connell to find the wife and offer a lot of cash for the formula.

She agrees.

Somehow, the planted operatives, Severin and Maury discover the wife and O’Connell’s arrangement.

They create a surveillance group with the intention of monitoring the handover and then try to remove both O’Connell and the wife.

For what reason.  The threat would have been removed unless O’Connell and Dobbin had another agenda.  Why then when Dobbin rescued O’Connell, did O’Connell then turn on him?

A relationship with the wife?

Or was it simply the thought of making a huge sum of money, one both O’Connell and the wife could retire on.  He would not be the first spy to sell his soul for twenty pieces of silver.

But the good news, was we had Severin’s assassin.

The plan from there was to hand her over to the Detective Inspector, who didn’t have an agenda other than getting to the truth and keeping Jan away from Dobbin, or anyone who could set her free.

That plan was quashed the moment I saw Dobbin turn up at the scene.  He knew where Severin would be, he must know Severin was meeting with me, and he had sent Jan.

The fact I was still alive meant he wanted something from me.

The question was whether he knew if Jan had been taken off the playing field.

“What the hell is he doing here?”

It was the exact question in my head, though I was closer to answer than she was.

“Run interference, or worse, take over this case too.”

“I thought that was left in the hands of MI5.”

“He turned up after you left.”

She shrugged.  “Above my pay grade, to be honest.  He can have it.  I prefer to deal with the mundane, common thieves or murderers.  None of this cloak-and-dagger stuff.   I’ll tell my Super about the biological stuff, but you have to admit it is a bit farfetched.  There’s a more rational explanation for these deaths, you just have to look harder.  Now, if there’s nothing else?”

Too late to escape, Dobbin had circled around and reached us before I could disappear.

“You seem to turn up to department crime scenes with alarming regularity, Sam.  Any particular reason you’re here?”

The Detective Inspector had expected him to talk to her, not me.

“He’s just another possible witness on the periphery of a crime.  You’re here because?

“It’s one of our people.  I’m afraid…”

“…you’re going to have to take over?  Be my guest.  Your friend here is altogether far too uncooperative, like the rest of you.  I am going to file a formal complaint.”

.“And I’m sure it will be seen by the relevant people.”

She just shrugged and walked away, waving her hand at no one in particular

I waited until she was out of hearing range and asked, “So, why didn’t Jan shoot me too?”

…

© Charles Heath 2020-2023

Writing a book in 365 days – 254

Day 254

Storytelling

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More Than Just Words: Why We’re All Hungry for Stories

Ever found yourself completely engrossed in a book, a captivating film, or even a friend’s animated anecdote? There’s a reason for that. It’s not just our idle entertainment; it’s a primal, fundamental part of who we are. We are, quite literally, hardwired for stories.

Think about it. From the earliest cave paintings depicting hunts and rituals to the grand epics passed down through generations, humanity has always relied on narrative. It’s how we make sense of the world, how we connect with each other, and how we leave our mark.

The Ancient Art of Immortality

At its core, storytelling is a form of history. It’s how we preserve the experiences, the triumphs, and the struggles of those who came before us. Before written records, oral traditions were the lifeblood of cultures, passing down knowledge, wisdom, and identity. The stories of elders became the lessons for the young, the myths explained the inexplicable, and the legends inspired courage.

But it’s more than just a historical record. Storytelling is also a profound act of immortality. When we share a story, we breathe life back into memories. We keep alive the spirit of individuals, the essence of moments, and the impact of events. A well-told story can transcend time, allowing us to feel present with people who are no longer with us, to understand perspectives different from our own, and to learn from their journeys. It’s through stories that our ancestors, our heroes, and even our ordinary lives can continue to resonate in the present and echo into the future.

Feeding the Soul

Beyond its historical and immortalizing qualities, storytelling simply feeds our souls. In a world often characterized by fleeting information and digital overload, a good story offers depth, connection, and emotional resonance.

  • Connection: Stories allow us to step into someone else’s shoes, fostering empathy and understanding. They remind us that despite our differences, we share universal human experiences – love, loss, fear, hope.
  • Meaning-Making: We use stories to process our own lives and the complexities of the world around us. They help us identify patterns, understand causes and effects, and find meaning in the chaos.
  • Inspiration: Stories of resilience, innovation, and courage can ignite our own imaginations and empower us to pursue our dreams. They show us what’s possible.
  • Escape and Joy: Sometimes, we just need to get lost in a different world. Stories offer a welcome escape, a chance to experience adventure, romance, or mystery, and to simply find joy in a well-crafted narrative.

The Power is in Your Hands (and Voice!)

So, the next time you’re drawn to a narrative, remember you’re tapping into something ancient and essential. And even more importantly, remember that you, too, are a storyteller. Your experiences, your memories, your unique perspective – they all have the power to inspire, to connect, and to offer a piece of yourself to the world.

Don’t underestimate the stories you hold. Share them. Write them down. Tell them to your children, your friends, your colleagues. Because in a world hungry for connection and meaning, every story is a gift, a tiny act of immortality, and a vital thread in the rich tapestry of human experience.

Searching for locations – Gold Coast, Queensland, Australia – 4

Today’s theme for the arduous early morning walk is – spot the house that doesn’t have people out on the veranda having coffee and taking in the breathtaking scenery.

The cloud formations in the early morning are simply amazing and are literally worth getting out of bed just to see the early morning riding sun come up behind them.

As usual, at 7 am, the walkways and the beach had a large number of people, half of whom have dogs, and yes, even today, it’s hard to tell who’s walking whom. But it is the start of the working week, and there are fewer people around than the weekend.

It’s cool but refreshing, and I’m doing my best impression of Walter Brennan in Rio Bravo, my limp more accentuated after yesterday’s foray along the sandy beach.

He has an excuse. He got injured being a stuntman in the early years of Hollywood. I have no excuse and should be doing more of this exercise. Especially the trudging through loose sand. It’s like walking in a vat of treacle.

Mores the pity I don’t live by the ocean and have a dog that needs exercise.

Not that I’d I wanted to I could afford it. Just the tiny piece of land is worth a small fortune, but to put a three – or four-story house with a viewing veranda would be very expensive. This is one being built and there would be no change out of two or three million to buy it:

But it would make a statement and I would have no end of friends and acquaintances who would want to come around and join me.

Candles and French Champagne on the veranda, it has such a ring to it.

Sorry, I’m dreaming again.

It is back to the affordable suburbs with the one-floor house with no patio, overlooking the side fence, a weed-infested lawn, and a few succulents in pots.

And no exercise. There are too many hills to climb.

Perhaps I should try to get away more often.

But before we go home, the last stop is lunch at one of the surf life-saving clubs where patronising their establishment helps to fund the rescue of people in trouble in the ocean.

We opt for lunch in the dining room where there is an extensive selection of items. We have buffalo chicken wings, duck spring rolls, and pork belly as appetisers. Mains are more chicken wings, a vegetarian burger, and a Wagu beef burger.

There’s a lot to eat.

As far as I’m concerned, the service is great, the food is great, and I’d go back again. It was the perfect end to a very good lunch and the end of our sojourn.

What I learned about writing: The murky art of plotting! (1)

Truth is stranger than fiction

…

Google Maps: More Than Just Directions – A Portal to Phantom Mysteries?

We all use Google Maps. It’s our trusty co-pilot, guiding us through unfamiliar streets, helping us find the nearest coffee shop, and even letting us snoop on our old childhood homes (admit it, you’ve done it!). But what if I told you that sometimes, beneath the familiar satellite imagery, Google Maps offers a glimpse into something far stranger than your aunt’s meticulously manicured lawn?

Lately, chatter has been building around peculiar anomalies popping up on the platform – digital specters appearing where they absolutely shouldn’t. Imagine panning over a dense, untouched forest, far from any airport, only to find a colossal Airbus A320 or Boeing 737 perfectly intact, sitting in a clearing. No missing plane reports, no emergency landings, just a commercial jetliner chilling amongst the trees. How did it get there? And more importantly, why?

This isn’t an isolated incident. There are numerous reports of cars, sometimes multiple vehicles, resting eerily at the bottom of lakes, visible from above. While many of these are indeed phantom images, some chillingly prove to be real. You might recall the story of the car discovered in a lake in Florida, which, upon investigation, contained the remains of a man who had been missing for over two decades. The digital anomaly led to a very real, very tragic discovery.

So, before we reach for our tinfoil hats, there’s a rational explanation for most of these ghostly appearances. The phenomenon is often an instance of image overlay or “ghosting.” Google Maps stitches together countless satellite and aerial photographs taken at different times. When an object, like a low-flying aircraft, is captured in one image over a particular spot, and a later, object-free image of the same spot is layered on top, a faint “ghost” of the original object can remain visible. The plane in the forest? It’s highly probable it was just flying incredibly low when the initial photograph was taken, leaving its digital imprint on the landscape.

Mystery solved, right? Well, mostly.

But what if, just what if, these digital echoes aren’t always mere glitches? What if, sometimes, they are whispers of something more, waiting to be heard?

Mick knew all about those lonely leisure hours when there was nothing else to do. He wasn’t one for idly scrolling social media; Mick was a tramper, a genuine trailblazer. His idea of relaxation was poring over topographical maps, looking for untouched corners of the world, sketching out potential new paths through forests, and dreaming of odd discoveries. Years ago, one such expedition had led him to uncover a lost village of significant archaeological value. He had a knack for finding things.

One drizzly afternoon, with the rain drumming against his window, Mick found himself drifting through Google Maps, exploring remote stretches of a national forest known for its dense, ancient foliage. He zoomed in, panned around, his cursor tracing imaginary trails. He wasn’t looking for glitches, but for inspiration, for the subtle hints of untamed beauty.

Then he saw it.

Not a ghost, not a blur, but what seemed to be distinct wreckage dispersed in a clearing. Glimpses of what looked like metal fragments, incongruous against the deep green canopy. It wasn’t the clean, whole plane of famous internet anomalies, but a scattering, undeniably man-made and out of place. He noted the date of the photograph – nearly a year prior.

A chill ran down his spine. He immediately checked local news archives, aviation reports, anything about missing small planes or crashes in the area. Nothing. Not a single mention. It was too remote for a simple crash to go unnoticed, yet too significant to be naturally occurring.

He kept the location saved, revisiting it over the next few days. It gnawed at him. Was it a trick of the light? A bizarre anomaly of the photo processing? He called a friend, an equally seasoned bushwalker, and explained his digital discovery, asking him to verify it on his own map.

“Right, mate, I’m looking,” came his friend’s voice over the phone a few minutes later. “Where exactly did you say?”

Mick guided him, pixel by pixel. “See it? Right there, by that cluster of three oaks…”

There was a pause. “Uh, Mick? There’s just… trees.”

Mick’s stomach dropped. He clicked back to his own map. The wreckage was gone. The clearing was pristine, just an unbroken expanse of forest. He felt a wave of self-doubt. Had his mind been playing tricks, wanting to find something remarkable, perhaps fabricating the whole thing?

But then he noticed it. The date of the photograph displayed on his screen had updated. It was no longer the nearly-a-year-old image. It was a new one, taken just a few weeks ago.

The digital ghost had vanished, but the seed of a real-world mystery had been planted. With the rain still falling and nothing better to do, Mick knew exactly what his next walking holiday would entail. He wasn’t just going to look at maps anymore. He was going to see what was really there.

‘The Devil You Don’t’ – A beta reader’s view

It could be said that of all the women one could meet, whether contrived or by sheer luck, what are the odds it would turn out to be the woman who was being paid a very large sum to kill you.

John Pennington is a man who may be lucky in business, but not so lucky in love. He has just broken up with Phillipa Sternhaven, the woman he thought was the one, but relatives and circumstances, and perhaps because she was a ‘princess’, may also have contributed to the end result.

So, what do you do when you are heartbroken?

That is a story that slowly unfolds, from the first meeting with his nemesis on Lake Geneva, all the way to a hotel room in Sorrento, where he learns the shattering truth.

What should have been solace after disappointment, turns out to be something else entirely, and from that point, everything goes to hell in a handbasket.

He suddenly realizes his so-called friend Sebastian has not exactly told him the truth about a small job he asked him to do, the woman he is falling in love with is not quite who she says she is, and he is caught in the middle of a war between two men who consider people becoming collateral damage as part of their business.

The story paints the characters cleverly displaying all their flaws and weaknesses. The locations add to the story at times taking me back down memory lane, especially to Venice where, in those back streets I confess it’s not all that hard to get lost.

All in all a thoroughly entertaining story with, for once, a satisfying end.

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Available on Amazon here: https://amzn.to/2Xyh1ow

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Searching for locations – Gold Coast, Queensland, Australia – 3

Quite often on holidays, we train ourselves to get up early because when you’re away in a different place, you don’t want to waste the day.

I’d like to think that since we can’t do a lot of the usual touristy activities we can sleep in and take a more leisurely approach to the day.

Not this morning.

Not yesterday, either, but for different reasons.

Today, it was the shooting pains down my leg from the bad back. Perhaps that walk to the coffee shop aggravated it, but since when did exercise harm you?

Anyway, finally giving up the notion of sleeping, I bounded out of bed, sorry slowly climbed out of bed with care, at 6:40 a.m. Unless you’re going on a tour that is the greatest thing since sliced bread, who, on holidays, gets out of bed at that hour.

Me, apparently.

Just four minutes after sunrise, which I missed.

I managed to get yesterday’s and was hoping to go one better and catch the sun coming over the horizon. Maybe tomorrow.

So, what do you do in such a hideous hour of the morning?

With the beach just 50 meters away, it was beckoning me to take a walk. When I looked, there were probably a half dozen people with their dogs taking a walk. And another three or four out for a power walk.

For me, it was going to be a leisurely stroll after picking my way across the loose sand to where it was a lot more solid.

The tide was on the way in, so every now and then, the water came up the beach near where most people walked.

By the time I started the foot traffic on the path had increased exponentially as had that on the shoreline along with the number of dogs exercising their owners, and a number of fishermen perhaps trying to land a fish for breakfast.

I had time to keep an eye on the cloud formations, and the waves came in, some a lot higher than others. That meant there were also a small number of die-hard surfers hoping to catch a big one.

You could see the rain out to sea, and with the forecast for rain later I entered of it was sitting out there waiting to arrive at the appointed time. I was just hoping it didn’t rain while I was out.

All in all, it was a pleasant hour or so up the beach and back. The hardest part, trudging over the loose sand, particularly after walking for the hour.

The fishermen had caught nothing.

The number of dogs had increased, but the power walkers had been replaced by families, visitors, and older people. I think if I lived here, I would be one more of the old people, out getting my daily exercise, and then stopping off at the coffee shop for a flat white and a cake.

And the best thing about it. It was still only half past eight in the morning and just in time for breakfast.

Pity I was the designated chef.

Writing a book in 365 days – 254

Day 254

Storytelling

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More Than Just Words: Why We’re All Hungry for Stories

Ever found yourself completely engrossed in a book, a captivating film, or even a friend’s animated anecdote? There’s a reason for that. It’s not just our idle entertainment; it’s a primal, fundamental part of who we are. We are, quite literally, hardwired for stories.

Think about it. From the earliest cave paintings depicting hunts and rituals to the grand epics passed down through generations, humanity has always relied on narrative. It’s how we make sense of the world, how we connect with each other, and how we leave our mark.

The Ancient Art of Immortality

At its core, storytelling is a form of history. It’s how we preserve the experiences, the triumphs, and the struggles of those who came before us. Before written records, oral traditions were the lifeblood of cultures, passing down knowledge, wisdom, and identity. The stories of elders became the lessons for the young, the myths explained the inexplicable, and the legends inspired courage.

But it’s more than just a historical record. Storytelling is also a profound act of immortality. When we share a story, we breathe life back into memories. We keep alive the spirit of individuals, the essence of moments, and the impact of events. A well-told story can transcend time, allowing us to feel present with people who are no longer with us, to understand perspectives different from our own, and to learn from their journeys. It’s through stories that our ancestors, our heroes, and even our ordinary lives can continue to resonate in the present and echo into the future.

Feeding the Soul

Beyond its historical and immortalizing qualities, storytelling simply feeds our souls. In a world often characterized by fleeting information and digital overload, a good story offers depth, connection, and emotional resonance.

  • Connection: Stories allow us to step into someone else’s shoes, fostering empathy and understanding. They remind us that despite our differences, we share universal human experiences – love, loss, fear, hope.
  • Meaning-Making: We use stories to process our own lives and the complexities of the world around us. They help us identify patterns, understand causes and effects, and find meaning in the chaos.
  • Inspiration: Stories of resilience, innovation, and courage can ignite our own imaginations and empower us to pursue our dreams. They show us what’s possible.
  • Escape and Joy: Sometimes, we just need to get lost in a different world. Stories offer a welcome escape, a chance to experience adventure, romance, or mystery, and to simply find joy in a well-crafted narrative.

The Power is in Your Hands (and Voice!)

So, the next time you’re drawn to a narrative, remember you’re tapping into something ancient and essential. And even more importantly, remember that you, too, are a storyteller. Your experiences, your memories, your unique perspective – they all have the power to inspire, to connect, and to offer a piece of yourself to the world.

Don’t underestimate the stories you hold. Share them. Write them down. Tell them to your children, your friends, your colleagues. Because in a world hungry for connection and meaning, every story is a gift, a tiny act of immortality, and a vital thread in the rich tapestry of human experience.