Tag: words

Another excerpt from ‘Betrayal’; a work in progress

…

My next destination in the quest was the hotel we believed Anne Merriweather had stayed at.

I was, in a sense, flying blind because we had no concrete evidence she had been there, and the message she had left behind didn’t quite name the hotel or where Vladimir was going to take her.

Mindful of the fact that someone might have been following me, I checked to see if the person I’d assumed had followed me to Elizabeth’s apartment was still in place, but I couldn’t see him. Next, I made a mental note of seven different candidates and committed them to memory.

Then I set off to the hotel, hailing a taxi. There was the possibility that the cab driver was one of them, but perhaps I was slightly more paranoid than I should be. I’d been watching the queue, and there were two others before me.

The journey took about an hour, during which time I kept an eye out the back to see if anyone had been following us. If anyone was, I couldn’t see them.

I had the cab drop me off a block from the hotel and then spent the next hour doing a complete circuit of the block the hotel was on, checking the front and rear entrances, the cameras in place, and the siting of the driveway into the underground carpark. There was a camera over the entrance, and one we hadn’t checked for footage. I sent a text message to Fritz to look into it.

The hotel lobby was large and busy, which was exactly what you’d want if you wanted to come and go without standing out. It would be different later at night, but I could see her arriving about mid-afternoon, and anonymous among the clientele the hotel attracted.

I spent an hour sitting in various positions in the lobby simply observing. I had already ascertained where the elevator lobby for the rooms was, and the elevator down to the car park. Fortunately, it was not ‘guarded’, but there was a steady stream of concierge staff coming and going to the lower levels, and, just from time to time, guests.

Then, when there was a commotion at the front door, what seemed to be a collision of guests and free-wheeling bags, I saw one of the seven potential taggers sitting by the front door. Waiting for me to leave? Or were they wondering why I was spending so much time there?

Taking advantage of that confusion, I picked my moment to head for the elevators that went down to the car park, pressed the down button, and waited.

There was no car on the ground level, so I had to wait, watching, like several others, the guests untangling themselves at the entrance, and keeping an eye on my potential surveillance, still absorbed in the confusion.

The doors to the left car opened, and a concierge stepped out, gave me a quick look, then headed back to his desk. I stepped into the car, pressed the first level down, the level I expected cars to arrive on, and waited what seemed like a long time for the doors to close.

As they did, I was expecting to see a hand poke through the gap, a latecomer. Nothing happened, and I put it down to a television moment.

There were three basement levels, and for a moment, I let my imagination run wild and considered the possibility that there were more levels. Of course, there was no indication on the control panel that there were any other floors, and I’d yet to see anything like it in reality.

With a shake of my head to return to reality, the car arrived, the doors opened, and I stepped out.

A car pulled up, and the driver stepped out, went around to the rear of his car, and pulled out a case. I half expected him to throw me the keys, but the instant glance he gave me told him he was not the concierge, and instead he brushed past me like I wasn’t there.

He bashed the up button several times impatiently and cursed when the doors didn’t open immediately. Not a happy man.

Another car drove past on its way down to a lower level.

I looked up and saw the CCTV camera, pointing towards the entrance, visible in the distance. A gate that lifted up was just about back in position, then clunked when it finally closed. The footage from the camera would not prove much, even if it had been working, because it didn’t cover the lift lobby, only what was in the direction of the car entrance.

The doors to the other elevator car opened, and a man in a suit stepped out.

“Can I help you, sir? You seem lost.”

Security, or something else. “It seems that way. I went to the elevator lobby, got in, and it went down rather than up. I must have been in the wrong place.”

“Lost it is, then, sir.” I could hear the contempt for Americans in his tone. “If you will accompany me, please.”

He put out a hand ready to guide me back into the elevator. I was only too happy to oblige him. There had been a sign near the button panel that said the basement levels were only to be accessed by the guests.

Once inside, he turned a key and pressed the lobby button. The doors closed, and we went up. He stood, facing the door, not speaking. A few seconds later, he was ushering me out to the lobby.

“Now, sir, if you are a guest…”

“Actually, I’m looking for one. She called me and said she would be staying in this hotel and to come down and visit her. I was trying to get to the sixth floor.”

“Good. Let’s go over to the desk and see what we can do for you.”

I followed him over to the reception desk, where he signalled one of the clerks, a young woman who looked and acted very efficiently, and told her of my request, but then remained to oversee the proceeding.

“Name of guest, sir?”

“Merriweather, Anne. I’m her brother, Alexander.” I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out my passport to prove that I was who I said I was. She glanced cursorily at it.

She typed the name into the computer, and then we waited a few seconds while it considered what to output. Then, she said, “That lady is not in the hotel, sir.”

Time to put on my best-confused look. “But she said she would be staying here for the week. I made a special trip to come here to see her.”

Another puzzled look from the clerk, then, “When did she call you?”

An interesting question to ask, and it set off a warning bell in my head. I couldn’t say today, it would have to be the day she was supposedly taken.

“Last Saturday, about four in the afternoon.”

Another look at the screen, then, “It appears she checked out Sunday morning. I’m afraid you have made a trip in vain.”

Indeed, I had. “Was she staying with anyone?”

I just managed to see the warning pass from the suited man to the clerk. I thought he had shown an interest when I mentioned the name, and now I had confirmation. He knew something about her disappearance. The trouble was, he wasn’t going to volunteer any information because he was more than just hotel security.

“No.”

“Odd,” I muttered. “I thought she told me she was staying with a man named Vladimir something or other. I’m not too good at pronouncing those Russian names. Are you sure?”

She didn’t look back at the screen. “Yes.”

“OK, now one thing I do know about staying in hotels is that you are required to ask guests with foreign passports their next destination, just in case they need to be found. Did she say where she was going next?” It was a long shot, but I thought I’d ask.

“Moscow. As I understand it, she lives in Moscow. That was the only address she gave us.”

I smiled. “Thank you. I know where that is. I probably should have gone there first.”

She didn’t answer; she didn’t have to, her expression did that perfectly.

The suited man spoke again, looking at the clerk. “Thank you.” He swivelled back to me. “I’m sorry we can’t help you.”

“No. You have more than you can know.”

“What was your name again, sir, just in case you still cannot find her?”

“Alexander Merriweather. Her brother. And if she is still missing, I will be posting a very large reward. At the moment, you can best contact me via the American Embassy.”

Money is always a great motivator, and that thoughtful expression on his face suggested he gave a moment’s thought to it.

I left him with that offer and left. If anything, the people who were holding her would know she had a brother, that her brother was looking for her, and equally that brother had money.

…

© Charles Heath – 2018-2025

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 96

Day 96 – One word in front of another

…

The Architecture of Scraps: How Great Things Are Built One Fragment at a Time

“A book gets written only by putting one word in front of another…” — Sinéad Gleeson

We often romanticise the act of writing. We imagine the dedicated author in a sun-drenched study, sitting down with a clear mind, a fresh pot of coffee, and a singular, uninterrupted focus that flows like a mountain stream.

But for the vast majority of us—and even for the most celebrated writers—that is rarely the reality. The reality is far messier, far more fragmented, and, in many ways, far more beautiful.

The Art of the Scrap

Writing isn’t always a grand, sweeping gesture. More often than not, it is written in scraps.

It is the half-formed sentence scribbled on a napkin while waiting for a train. It is the paragraph drafted in the quiet, blue-tinted hours before the sun comes up, while the rest of the world is still suspended in dreams. It is the frantic note typed into a smartphone while hiding in the pantry, or the single, perfect adjective that floats to the surface while standing in the grocery checkout line.

These fragments feel inconsequential in the moment. They are mere “scraps”—tattered pieces of thought that seem too small to hold the weight of a story. But there is a quiet, rhythmic power in the accumulation of these moments.

The Physics of “One After Another”

Sinéad Gleeson’s reminder is both a grounding truth and a liberation: a book gets written only by putting one word in front of another.

When we look at a finished book, we see a monolith. We see a daunting, polished, finished object that feels like it must have required a singular, Herculean effort to summon into existence. But that is an illusion. A book is not a monolith; it is a mosaic. It is a collection of thousands of tiny, separate decisions.

By focusing on the “one word,” we remove the crushing pressure of the “whole book.” You don’t have to write a masterpiece today; you just have to write a sentence. You don’t have to solve the plot holes of chapter ten; you just have to capture the fleeting thought you had on the commute.

The Beauty of the In-Between

There is a specific kind of magic that happens in the cracks of our lives. When we write while waiting—for the coffee to brew, for the meeting to start, for the bus to arrive—we are practising a form of mindfulness. We are telling ourselves that our creative voice is worth honouring, even when we don’t have hours to spare.

Often, these “stolen” words are the best ones. They are raw, unfiltered, and honest. They haven’t been overthought or polished into dullness. They are the artifacts of a life truly lived.

Before You Know It…

The most hopeful part of this process is the surprise. If you keep choosing to put one word in front of another—if you keep collecting those scraps and piecing them together—something shifts.

The scraps begin to talk to each other. They form lines, then paragraphs, then chapters. One day, you look up from your messy, fragmented notes and realise that the space between “I have an idea” and “I have a manuscript” has been bridged.

Before you know it, there’s the book.

So, if you are feeling overwhelmed by a project, or if you feel like you don’t have the “perfect” environment to be a writer, let go of the pressure. Stop waiting for the sun-drenched study. Carry a notebook. Tap a note into your phone. Write a sentence on a scrap of paper.

Don’t worry about the book. Just worry about the word. Keep putting one in front of the other, and let the rest take care of itself.

NaNoWriMo – April – 2026 – Day 23

The story continues.

Chapters 23 through 28 are done, and we are on the home stretch.

There are seven days and hopefully seven more chapters.

I have finally decided on how it’s going to end, and he’s not going to finish up with the one he thought he would.

And another twist that no one will see coming, even though there are hints.

I have in mind how this will play out in one of the last three chapters, and there is a devastating truth that comes with it, one that is going to be hard to understand for one of the two main protagonists.

Such is as it should be.

NaNoWriMo – April – 2026 – Day 22

I’m still working on two back chapters, which might become three,

But…

I’ve been steadily working on chapters 24 through 29, which were dependent on the framework set up in the two previous chapters.

It has actually made it easier to see where the story is going and make changes in both parts as I go along.

That now leaves me at Chapter 30, which is a major turning point for the story.

In the outline, I had the two protagonists doing one thing, and now I’ve pulled the plug on them, and they are doing something else.

The problem was that it was too predictable.

Still, now I’m at chapter 30, anything can happen.

A to Z – April – 2026 – S

S is for – Speaking of the dead

…

There was no point in asking Jack.

He was the witness who had fourteen different answers for the same situation; in fact, it changed every time you asked him.

I used to think that he did it deliberately, that it was his way of avoiding responsibility, and it worked.  No one asked him to do anything or asked his opinion, and that threw all of it on me, the younger and only sibling.

For that reason, I left home as soon as I could.   Away from my parents, who expected so much, and my brother, who was oblivious to the problems he was causing me.

Of course, there was always going to be something to drag me back to that place.

Very early on a Saturday morning, the one day I got to sleep in, the cell phone rang at the ungodly hour of 5:03 am.  I remember the time because I also remembered who was calling.

My brother Jack.

I was not in a good mood.  “What?”

“Fine way to talk to me.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.  Don’t call me again.”  And then I disconnected the call.

I made the fatal mistake of not switching off the phone.

5:07am.  Jack.  He was going to keep calling.  I sighed, got out of bed, picked up the phone and pressed the green answer button.

“Make it quick, I’m missing out on a much-earned sleep-in.”

“OK, if that’s the way you want it.  Mum and Dad are dead.”

Jack was the original little boy who cried wolf.

“Of course they are.  Are you sure they’re not at the mall shopping?”  He had tried this story once before.  He had half the town in uproar until they found him having coffee at a small cafe, and somehow made it all my fault.  As usual.

“No.  They would have told me.”

“They never tell you anything because you never can relay anything correctly.  Just hang tight, they’ll be home soon enough.”

“They’ve been gone a week, nearly eight days.  I think they’re dead.”

More than likely, they’d gone on a holiday, told him, and he’d forgotten or got it jumbled up in that complicated mind of his.  “There’s nothing wrong with them.  They will be back.”

I hung up, this time switching off the phone, and went back to bed.

…

It was never going to end there.  Nothing that involved Jack did, and his calling had brought all the bad memories flooding back, bad enough that there was no point going back to sleep.

I had to wonder if, after all these years, my parents finally decided they’d had enough of him and just left.  Certainly, the last time I had seen my mother, she was at the end of her tether.  They had come to visit me in the big city, as they called it, and I got the impression that being away was a relief.

I tried calling my mother’s phone, and it rang out.  It was charged, and on, not the state I’d expect if something had happened to her.  My father didn’t have a phone; he said they were the devil’s toys to seduce us, and there were times when I agreed with him.

An hour later, my cell phone rang again.  An unknown number.  Usually, I didn’t answer them, but for some odd reason, I did.

“Richard Westly?”

“Yes.”

“Sheriff Jackson, Black Ridge County Sheriff’s Department.  I assume you live in the old house at the end of Bridge Street?”

“I did.  Haven’t been there for a dozen years or so.  Why?”

Earlier this morning, the next-door neighbour came over to check on them and found the house broken into, and all three occupants were dead.  We believe all three are victims of foul play.”

“All three?”

“Your father, your mother, and your brother Jack.”

“When did they die?  When did Jack die?  Does anyone know?”

“The medical examiner is here, and the preliminary assessment is that they have been dead between four and seven days.”

“Jack too?”

“Yes.”

“That’s impossible.   I was just speaking to him about an hour ago.”

…

©  Charles Heath  2025-2026

365 Days of writing, 2026 – Day 94/95

Days 94 and 95 – Writing Exercise

…

I had a plan. 

I just didn’t have a plan B.

And, because of it, I had an extraordinary story to tell the grandchildren.

It started out with the best of intentions.

I had been talking to this girl, Wanda Richardson. 

My mother would say that she was not my ‘type’, but her idea of type was someone who was way out of my and the rest of my siblings’ reach.

She thought we were ‘well-to-do’, so much so that the whole of the dating pool we all had access to was beneath us.

Or them.

I did ask once why we were not attending a ‘posh’ school instead of the local high school and got a belting from my father for sassing my mother.

Later, I discovered that my mother had come from a wealthy family that had lost all their money the generation before, but she refused to change her lifestyle.

But that was all later, when I’d gone down a path that I could never come back from.

Like I said, it all started with the best of intentions.

..

Friday night, Wanda worked in the Diner.  Wanda’s parents didn’t have unreal expectations.  I didn’t tell my parents I had feelings towards her; I knew what would happen if I did.

I’d seen my older brother Louis go down the same path; they had embarrassed him, and he had to leave town and vowed never to come back.

I was going to do the same as soon as I graduated from high school.

Friday night, I would hang out at the diner and then walk Wanda home.  I wasn’t the ostensibly eligible boy, even though I was on the football team, and sometimes made up the numbers for the baseball team.

I just didn’t have that killer instinct it took to get ahead, or the parents who pushed their kids into the top spots in the team.

Academically, I would get good grades, but nothing special, even though I could get a place at a nearby college, if I wanted it.

My mother wanted mt to go to University.  My father wanted me to stay in town and integrate into his business.  He had hoped Louis would but he didn’t.  I didn’t want to either, but it was beginning to look like I wouldn’t have a choice.

Wanda didn’t care.  He parents decided she would find a nice boy, settle down, be a wife and mother, giving her parents grandchildren. 

The sooner the better.

She wanted to see the world first

As the final reward of high school came to an end, we spoke of many things.  They didn’t include dating, the prom, or what would happen next year.

Except this Friday, she was different.

I dropped by about half an hour before the end of her shift, busy as always, and I had a seat at the bar.  I ordered a pie and a soda.  The same as always.

“You should try something different,” she said as she walked past, just back from cleaning and resetting a table for the next group.

Richie Fincal and Mary, and his offsider, Mickey and Elise, Richie and Mickie in the football team, Mary and Elise in the cheerleader squad. 

Children of influential families are often the cause of trouble. 

Mary had tried all year to get Wanda into the cheerleaders, but Wanda had no interest.  Richie was disappointed I didn’t try harder because he thought I had talent.

The coach had other ideas, and I agreed with the coach.

“I’m a creature of habit,” I said.

“You should think about trying something new.  Women like their men to be more adventurous.”

That was a surprise.  She often said I should try something different, bur the was the first time she mentioned anything about adventure.

“I don’t know any adventurous women.”

She gave me a hard stare, the one when I knew she was annoyed.  “What am I, a librarian?”

I wondered what the significance of being a librarian meant.  This year, she had changed and spoke of things I knew little about.

I had to admit that she had grown up and left me behind.  For a while there, she had dated one of the football A team players and got to hang out with what were known as the cool kids.

Then they had broken up, and when I asked why, she wouldn’t tell me.  It must have had some significance because she cried off and on for weeks.

“No.  Too good for me.  I’m sorry.”

She shook her head.  “I’m going to wait on a few tables.  When I come back, I expect better from you.  No girl would be ashamed to have you as a friend, Billy.”

She passed by a few minutes later and put the pie with extra cream and I creams and the mistaken in front of me. “Enjoy.”

…

“You going down the cove later?”  Richie stopped as the four were leaving.  The others kept going.

“Thinking about it”, it was one of the few gatherings before the prom and probably the last time we’d all be in one place before graduation

Richie was just being polite.  I didn’t normally go because turning up without a girl with you invited comment.

Kids could be quite horrible, especially to those perceived not to have friends.

I chose not to be too friendly with anyone.

“John’s got a couple of kegs from his dad, drinks all round.  It’s going to be a good night.”

We were not supposed to be drinking beer.  I’d seen two effects: some of the boys and the girls changed when they had too much.  Last time there were fights, and the sheriff had his hands full.

I swore I would never go again.

“I’ll see how the night pans out.”

He saw me looking in Wanda’s direction.  “She’s out of your league, Billy.  Harry’s gonna ask her out tonight, so leave it be, eh.”

A pat on the back, and he was gone.

Harry was an ass.  I hoped she had the sense to say no.

…

Wanda’s shift ended, and I asked her if she wanted me to walk her home.

She refilled the coffee mug while I reckon she was deciding yes or no.  “I’ll sign off and get my coat.”

I finished the coffee and waited outside.  When she came, Harry stepped up.

“You want to go to the cove?”

He had an interesting way of asking, direct and with no please or thank you.  He just took it for granted you’d agree.  She had told me he just expected she would be acquiescent.  Girls were meant to do as they were told.

I guess he was a product of most men in town, my father and mother included.  It was why my mother was constantly at odds with her daughters.

“Not tonight.”

“Why?”

“Do I need a reason?”

“The gutless are expecting you.  I said you were coming.”

“You don’t have the right to decide what I do and don’t do.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“This is exactly how this works.  Billy is taking me, you see his boat.”

“What boat?”

“His father’s boat.”

Was I?  I never said I would or could, for that matter.  He had banned everyone from going near it because, firstly, it was his pride and joy, and secondly, it was his hiding place from home and responsibility.  He had only shown me once.

“He’s lying if he told you that.”

“He doesn’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Harry.  Good night, Harry.”

The look he gave her didn’t augur well.  For her or for me.  Especially after Richie warned me.

…

“Why did you tell Harry about the boat?”

“Because I’m tired of him bossing me about.  I told him it was over, but he just doesn’t get it.  Besides, you can show me where it is, what it looks like.”

“But you told him a lie?”

“And you can make it the truth.  This is your one chance to prove to me you care about me, Billy.  I’m sick and tired of being disappointed by every boy in this place.”

The gauntlet had been thrown down.

And to be honest, I should have taken a little longer to consider the consequences, but here’s the thing, I felt like this was the first and possibly the only chance to find true love.

As much as any teenager who’d never experienced it before, and was feeling a range of sensations that had no rational explanation. 

Of course, I had absolutely no idea what love was, but I did have these feelings towards Wanda, and I assumed that it was love.

“I didn’t know you were interested in me or in boats, or anyone else.”

“There is a lot you do not know about me that anyone knows or has taken the time to find out.  Take me home, and then I will meet you near the Fisherman’s Cooperative.”

I knew the place.

Her grandfather had a small chandler’s store next to the Fisherman’s Cooperative, which I had collected from her one weekend when she asked me to take her home, after visiting her grandparents.

She had been upset at the time, and I had got the impression she had been in an argument with Harry and had gone to be with her grandparents rather than her parents.

I found her grandparents to be far more reasonable people, and that her parents were much like mine, with unreasonable expectations.

After doing as she asked, I left her at the front gate and then slowly made my way to the wharf precinct.  Standing on the wharf, it was possible to see the cove and the bonfire in the middle of the sand, looking almost like a signal to guide a ship in or away from the rocks.

There was a lighthouse on the point.

It was dark, and the wharf was lit by a series of single bulbs that didn’t cover much area.  From the car park it looked like a weird if lights heading out to sea.

When I arrived, the full moon was out and made it very bright, but since my arrival, dark clouds had rolled in from the horizon out to sea, blocking the moon.  Then, lightning appeared, way out to sea, putting on a spectacular light show.

Just after the first cracking of lightning appeared to hit the end of the wharf, the lights sent out, the breeze picked up, and you could feel the rain in the air.  Wanda appeared beside me, almost scaring me.

“You’re jumpy,” she said. 

“It’s a bit spooky in the dark, and the storm that’s going to hit very soon.”

“I’d been quite warm.  What’s not to like about cooling rain?”

What indeed.  Clearly, the thunder and lightning didn’t bother her.

“So, show me this boat.”

It was moored a short distance from the wharf and an area with a series of sea anchorages.  My father didn’t like the idea of mooring in the marina bays because when he had, and a storm hit, it caused a lot of damage.

Riding it out moored to a block on the sea floor and a stabilising anchor seemed much safer.

The sea had been rising with the increased onshore wind, and while the moon had been out, old could see the sea-anchored boats rocking on the waves.

There were several people aboard their boats, but if the seas got higher, they might have to row ashore.

I took her to the middle of the wharf, where there were steps down to the sea, now washing over the bottom level, usually a foot over the water level.

The tide was coming in and would be at its highest in another two hours.  If the waves got higher, they would break over the wharf itself.  It had happened twice in the last year.

A bolt of lightning illuminated the bay, and I pointed to the boat.  A crash of thunder, followed by more lightning, gave her an extended view.

“That’s not a boat.  That’s more of a dinghy.”

What did she know about boats?

“It’s quite large when you are aboard.”

Rain started, just drops, picked up by the gusty wind.  I turned to tell her we’d better find cover, to find her on the other side of the wharf, looking towards the beach party.

The bonfire was blazing, the flames picked up by the wind.  There were quite a few people there, defying the weather.

“They’re going to get wet,” she said.

“I don’t think they care.  Two kegs of beer make people apparently waterproof.”

“And stupid.”

Last time I went on one of Richie’s beach parties, more than innocence was lost.

I saw Wanda shudder.

“Bad experience?”

She didn’t say anything, bur it wondered if the tears were from the rain or horrible memories.

Another gust of wind, and the rain increased.

“We’d better find cover,” I said.

She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around me.  In my ear, she whispered, “Hold me.”

I did as she asked and we stood there, in the rain and the wind, her head on my shoulder, and I could feel her shuddering.

It was more than just the cold.

Then she spoke again, and it was like we were in a cone of silence. I could hear nothing else but her words, “I think I’m pregnant. I don’t know what to do.  I can’t tell anyone, and the fact that you are holding me now is the only reason I haven’t thrown myself off the end of the pier.”

…

The rain didn’t matter, it was the least of her concerns, and it want bothering me.  It had been hot during the day, and the storm was expected.

I gave her time, waiting until she wanted to speak, or not.  It had taken great courage to tell someone who, in truth, wasn’t all that close or had earned her trust.

But then, who could she trust with that news?

I felt her move slightly, and she looked at me. 

“What do I do?  What can I do?”

“Breathe for starters.”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  Her eyes were watery, tears leaving streaks down her cheek.  There was a look of utter despair in her expression.

“Does anyone else know?”

“That Harry raped me, only my grandparents, who are sworn to secrecy.  They don’t know about the baby.”

“Are you sure?”

“As anyone can be.  Things happen or don’t happen, and it didn’t happen.”

It was about as oblique an answer she could give me.  I wondered if my sisters knew what she was talking about.”

“But it might not be the case?”

“I have to go with the worst-case scenario.”

“Right.  How long before anyone can tell?”

“One of my cousins got pregnant, and my mother said she knew the moment she saw her.  You’re supposed to have this glow thing.  Do I look like I’m glowing?”

I shook my head.  “You look very wet, I’ll say that much.”  I think it was the first time I realised that it was raining.

She smiled.  It was a sad smile, but it broke the gloom.  “Can we run away somewhere?”

“Would you want to run away with me?  I mean, we know each other, but,” I shrugged, “if you believe you can trust me, I’ll do anything you ask of me.”

“Can I trust you?”

It was as an interesting question.  I had never been put in a position where someone had to take me at face value.  I mean, I hadn’t done anything wrong, not like Richie and his cohorts, but then girls hadn’t taken much of an interest in me.

“I give you my word I would never knowingly hurt you.  I can’t say the same for my parents, though.”

“Nor could I mine, but it’s as much as I can expect.  We are both so not ready for this, but it have been thinking about what I was going to do.  The thing is, he’s just going to deny it, and being the son of a deputy sheriff, who’s going to believe me?”

She was right.  Harry was almost untouchable, and Richie and his friends fed off that implied immunity.  It was wrong, but it was a small town.  Her word against his, and the others who would close ranks, iy was to was easier just to disappear.

“Then we need a plan.”

“You’ll help me?”

“Anything to get out of going to the Prom, yes. But, sure, I’m sure I can come up with something.”

She kissed me on the cheek. “You know, I could get to love you.”

…

©  Charles Heath 2026

A to Z – April – 2026 – S

S is for – Speaking of the dead

…

There was no point in asking Jack.

He was the witness who had fourteen different answers for the same situation; in fact, it changed every time you asked him.

I used to think that he did it deliberately, that it was his way of avoiding responsibility, and it worked.  No one asked him to do anything or asked his opinion, and that threw all of it on me, the younger and only sibling.

For that reason, I left home as soon as I could.   Away from my parents, who expected so much, and my brother, who was oblivious to the problems he was causing me.

Of course, there was always going to be something to drag me back to that place.

Very early on a Saturday morning, the one day I got to sleep in, the cell phone rang at the ungodly hour of 5:03 am.  I remember the time because I also remembered who was calling.

My brother Jack.

I was not in a good mood.  “What?”

“Fine way to talk to me.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.  Don’t call me again.”  And then I disconnected the call.

I made the fatal mistake of not switching off the phone.

5:07am.  Jack.  He was going to keep calling.  I sighed, got out of bed, picked up the phone and pressed the green answer button.

“Make it quick, I’m missing out on a much-earned sleep-in.”

“OK, if that’s the way you want it.  Mum and Dad are dead.”

Jack was the original little boy who cried wolf.

“Of course they are.  Are you sure they’re not at the mall shopping?”  He had tried this story once before.  He had half the town in uproar until they found him having coffee at a small cafe, and somehow made it all my fault.  As usual.

“No.  They would have told me.”

“They never tell you anything because you never can relay anything correctly.  Just hang tight, they’ll be home soon enough.”

“They’ve been gone a week, nearly eight days.  I think they’re dead.”

More than likely, they’d gone on a holiday, told him, and he’d forgotten or got it jumbled up in that complicated mind of his.  “There’s nothing wrong with them.  They will be back.”

I hung up, this time switching off the phone, and went back to bed.

…

It was never going to end there.  Nothing that involved Jack did, and his calling had brought all the bad memories flooding back, bad enough that there was no point going back to sleep.

I had to wonder if, after all these years, my parents finally decided they’d had enough of him and just left.  Certainly, the last time I had seen my mother, she was at the end of her tether.  They had come to visit me in the big city, as they called it, and I got the impression that being away was a relief.

I tried calling my mother’s phone, and it rang out.  It was charged, and on, not the state I’d expect if something had happened to her.  My father didn’t have a phone; he said they were the devil’s toys to seduce us, and there were times when I agreed with him.

An hour later, my cell phone rang again.  An unknown number.  Usually, I didn’t answer them, but for some odd reason, I did.

“Richard Westly?”

“Yes.”

“Sheriff Jackson, Black Ridge County Sheriff’s Department.  I assume you live in the old house at the end of Bridge Street?”

“I did.  Haven’t been there for a dozen years or so.  Why?”

Earlier this morning, the next-door neighbour came over to check on them and found the house broken into, and all three occupants were dead.  We believe all three are victims of foul play.”

“All three?”

“Your father, your mother, and your brother Jack.”

“When did they die?  When did Jack die?  Does anyone know?”

“The medical examiner is here, and the preliminary assessment is that they have been dead between four and seven days.”

“Jack too?”

“Yes.”

“That’s impossible.   I was just speaking to him about an hour ago.”

…

©  Charles Heath  2025-2026

365 Days of writing, 2026 – Day 94/95

Days 94 and 95 – Writing Exercise

…

I had a plan. 

I just didn’t have a plan B.

And, because of it, I had an extraordinary story to tell the grandchildren.

It started out with the best of intentions.

I had been talking to this girl, Wanda Richardson. 

My mother would say that she was not my ‘type’, but her idea of type was someone who was way out of my and the rest of my siblings’ reach.

She thought we were ‘well-to-do’, so much so that the whole of the dating pool we all had access to was beneath us.

Or them.

I did ask once why we were not attending a ‘posh’ school instead of the local high school and got a belting from my father for sassing my mother.

Later, I discovered that my mother had come from a wealthy family that had lost all their money the generation before, but she refused to change her lifestyle.

But that was all later, when I’d gone down a path that I could never come back from.

Like I said, it all started with the best of intentions.

..

Friday night, Wanda worked in the Diner.  Wanda’s parents didn’t have unreal expectations.  I didn’t tell my parents I had feelings towards her; I knew what would happen if I did.

I’d seen my older brother Louis go down the same path; they had embarrassed him, and he had to leave town and vowed never to come back.

I was going to do the same as soon as I graduated from high school.

Friday night, I would hang out at the diner and then walk Wanda home.  I wasn’t the ostensibly eligible boy, even though I was on the football team, and sometimes made up the numbers for the baseball team.

I just didn’t have that killer instinct it took to get ahead, or the parents who pushed their kids into the top spots in the team.

Academically, I would get good grades, but nothing special, even though I could get a place at a nearby college, if I wanted it.

My mother wanted mt to go to University.  My father wanted me to stay in town and integrate into his business.  He had hoped Louis would but he didn’t.  I didn’t want to either, but it was beginning to look like I wouldn’t have a choice.

Wanda didn’t care.  He parents decided she would find a nice boy, settle down, be a wife and mother, giving her parents grandchildren. 

The sooner the better.

She wanted to see the world first

As the final reward of high school came to an end, we spoke of many things.  They didn’t include dating, the prom, or what would happen next year.

Except this Friday, she was different.

I dropped by about half an hour before the end of her shift, busy as always, and I had a seat at the bar.  I ordered a pie and a soda.  The same as always.

“You should try something different,” she said as she walked past, just back from cleaning and resetting a table for the next group.

Richie Fincal and Mary, and his offsider, Mickey and Elise, Richie and Mickie in the football team, Mary and Elise in the cheerleader squad. 

Children of influential families are often the cause of trouble. 

Mary had tried all year to get Wanda into the cheerleaders, but Wanda had no interest.  Richie was disappointed I didn’t try harder because he thought I had talent.

The coach had other ideas, and I agreed with the coach.

“I’m a creature of habit,” I said.

“You should think about trying something new.  Women like their men to be more adventurous.”

That was a surprise.  She often said I should try something different, bur the was the first time she mentioned anything about adventure.

“I don’t know any adventurous women.”

She gave me a hard stare, the one when I knew she was annoyed.  “What am I, a librarian?”

I wondered what the significance of being a librarian meant.  This year, she had changed and spoke of things I knew little about.

I had to admit that she had grown up and left me behind.  For a while there, she had dated one of the football A team players and got to hang out with what were known as the cool kids.

Then they had broken up, and when I asked why, she wouldn’t tell me.  It must have had some significance because she cried off and on for weeks.

“No.  Too good for me.  I’m sorry.”

She shook her head.  “I’m going to wait on a few tables.  When I come back, I expect better from you.  No girl would be ashamed to have you as a friend, Billy.”

She passed by a few minutes later and put the pie with extra cream and I creams and the mistaken in front of me. “Enjoy.”

…

“You going down the cove later?”  Richie stopped as the four were leaving.  The others kept going.

“Thinking about it”, it was one of the few gatherings before the prom and probably the last time we’d all be in one place before graduation

Richie was just being polite.  I didn’t normally go because turning up without a girl with you invited comment.

Kids could be quite horrible, especially to those perceived not to have friends.

I chose not to be too friendly with anyone.

“John’s got a couple of kegs from his dad, drinks all round.  It’s going to be a good night.”

We were not supposed to be drinking beer.  I’d seen two effects: some of the boys and the girls changed when they had too much.  Last time there were fights, and the sheriff had his hands full.

I swore I would never go again.

“I’ll see how the night pans out.”

He saw me looking in Wanda’s direction.  “She’s out of your league, Billy.  Harry’s gonna ask her out tonight, so leave it be, eh.”

A pat on the back, and he was gone.

Harry was an ass.  I hoped she had the sense to say no.

…

Wanda’s shift ended, and I asked her if she wanted me to walk her home.

She refilled the coffee mug while I reckon she was deciding yes or no.  “I’ll sign off and get my coat.”

I finished the coffee and waited outside.  When she came, Harry stepped up.

“You want to go to the cove?”

He had an interesting way of asking, direct and with no please or thank you.  He just took it for granted you’d agree.  She had told me he just expected she would be acquiescent.  Girls were meant to do as they were told.

I guess he was a product of most men in town, my father and mother included.  It was why my mother was constantly at odds with her daughters.

“Not tonight.”

“Why?”

“Do I need a reason?”

“The gutless are expecting you.  I said you were coming.”

“You don’t have the right to decide what I do and don’t do.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“This is exactly how this works.  Billy is taking me, you see his boat.”

“What boat?”

“His father’s boat.”

Was I?  I never said I would or could, for that matter.  He had banned everyone from going near it because, firstly, it was his pride and joy, and secondly, it was his hiding place from home and responsibility.  He had only shown me once.

“He’s lying if he told you that.”

“He doesn’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Harry.  Good night, Harry.”

The look he gave her didn’t augur well.  For her or for me.  Especially after Richie warned me.

…

“Why did you tell Harry about the boat?”

“Because I’m tired of him bossing me about.  I told him it was over, but he just doesn’t get it.  Besides, you can show me where it is, what it looks like.”

“But you told him a lie?”

“And you can make it the truth.  This is your one chance to prove to me you care about me, Billy.  I’m sick and tired of being disappointed by every boy in this place.”

The gauntlet had been thrown down.

And to be honest, I should have taken a little longer to consider the consequences, but here’s the thing, I felt like this was the first and possibly the only chance to find true love.

As much as any teenager who’d never experienced it before, and was feeling a range of sensations that had no rational explanation. 

Of course, I had absolutely no idea what love was, but I did have these feelings towards Wanda, and I assumed that it was love.

“I didn’t know you were interested in me or in boats, or anyone else.”

“There is a lot you do not know about me that anyone knows or has taken the time to find out.  Take me home, and then I will meet you near the Fisherman’s Cooperative.”

I knew the place.

Her grandfather had a small chandler’s store next to the Fisherman’s Cooperative, which I had collected from her one weekend when she asked me to take her home, after visiting her grandparents.

She had been upset at the time, and I had got the impression she had been in an argument with Harry and had gone to be with her grandparents rather than her parents.

I found her grandparents to be far more reasonable people, and that her parents were much like mine, with unreasonable expectations.

After doing as she asked, I left her at the front gate and then slowly made my way to the wharf precinct.  Standing on the wharf, it was possible to see the cove and the bonfire in the middle of the sand, looking almost like a signal to guide a ship in or away from the rocks.

There was a lighthouse on the point.

It was dark, and the wharf was lit by a series of single bulbs that didn’t cover much area.  From the car park it looked like a weird if lights heading out to sea.

When I arrived, the full moon was out and made it very bright, but since my arrival, dark clouds had rolled in from the horizon out to sea, blocking the moon.  Then, lightning appeared, way out to sea, putting on a spectacular light show.

Just after the first cracking of lightning appeared to hit the end of the wharf, the lights sent out, the breeze picked up, and you could feel the rain in the air.  Wanda appeared beside me, almost scaring me.

“You’re jumpy,” she said. 

“It’s a bit spooky in the dark, and the storm that’s going to hit very soon.”

“I’d been quite warm.  What’s not to like about cooling rain?”

What indeed.  Clearly, the thunder and lightning didn’t bother her.

“So, show me this boat.”

It was moored a short distance from the wharf and an area with a series of sea anchorages.  My father didn’t like the idea of mooring in the marina bays because when he had, and a storm hit, it caused a lot of damage.

Riding it out moored to a block on the sea floor and a stabilising anchor seemed much safer.

The sea had been rising with the increased onshore wind, and while the moon had been out, old could see the sea-anchored boats rocking on the waves.

There were several people aboard their boats, but if the seas got higher, they might have to row ashore.

I took her to the middle of the wharf, where there were steps down to the sea, now washing over the bottom level, usually a foot over the water level.

The tide was coming in and would be at its highest in another two hours.  If the waves got higher, they would break over the wharf itself.  It had happened twice in the last year.

A bolt of lightning illuminated the bay, and I pointed to the boat.  A crash of thunder, followed by more lightning, gave her an extended view.

“That’s not a boat.  That’s more of a dinghy.”

What did she know about boats?

“It’s quite large when you are aboard.”

Rain started, just drops, picked up by the gusty wind.  I turned to tell her we’d better find cover, to find her on the other side of the wharf, looking towards the beach party.

The bonfire was blazing, the flames picked up by the wind.  There were quite a few people there, defying the weather.

“They’re going to get wet,” she said.

“I don’t think they care.  Two kegs of beer make people apparently waterproof.”

“And stupid.”

Last time I went on one of Richie’s beach parties, more than innocence was lost.

I saw Wanda shudder.

“Bad experience?”

She didn’t say anything, bur it wondered if the tears were from the rain or horrible memories.

Another gust of wind, and the rain increased.

“We’d better find cover,” I said.

She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around me.  In my ear, she whispered, “Hold me.”

I did as she asked and we stood there, in the rain and the wind, her head on my shoulder, and I could feel her shuddering.

It was more than just the cold.

Then she spoke again, and it was like we were in a cone of silence. I could hear nothing else but her words, “I think I’m pregnant. I don’t know what to do.  I can’t tell anyone, and the fact that you are holding me now is the only reason I haven’t thrown myself off the end of the pier.”

…

The rain didn’t matter, it was the least of her concerns, and it want bothering me.  It had been hot during the day, and the storm was expected.

I gave her time, waiting until she wanted to speak, or not.  It had taken great courage to tell someone who, in truth, wasn’t all that close or had earned her trust.

But then, who could she trust with that news?

I felt her move slightly, and she looked at me. 

“What do I do?  What can I do?”

“Breathe for starters.”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  Her eyes were watery, tears leaving streaks down her cheek.  There was a look of utter despair in her expression.

“Does anyone else know?”

“That Harry raped me, only my grandparents, who are sworn to secrecy.  They don’t know about the baby.”

“Are you sure?”

“As anyone can be.  Things happen or don’t happen, and it didn’t happen.”

It was about as oblique an answer she could give me.  I wondered if my sisters knew what she was talking about.”

“But it might not be the case?”

“I have to go with the worst-case scenario.”

“Right.  How long before anyone can tell?”

“One of my cousins got pregnant, and my mother said she knew the moment she saw her.  You’re supposed to have this glow thing.  Do I look like I’m glowing?”

I shook my head.  “You look very wet, I’ll say that much.”  I think it was the first time I realised that it was raining.

She smiled.  It was a sad smile, but it broke the gloom.  “Can we run away somewhere?”

“Would you want to run away with me?  I mean, we know each other, but,” I shrugged, “if you believe you can trust me, I’ll do anything you ask of me.”

“Can I trust you?”

It was as an interesting question.  I had never been put in a position where someone had to take me at face value.  I mean, I hadn’t done anything wrong, not like Richie and his cohorts, but then girls hadn’t taken much of an interest in me.

“I give you my word I would never knowingly hurt you.  I can’t say the same for my parents, though.”

“Nor could I mine, but it’s as much as I can expect.  We are both so not ready for this, but it have been thinking about what I was going to do.  The thing is, he’s just going to deny it, and being the son of a deputy sheriff, who’s going to believe me?”

She was right.  Harry was almost untouchable, and Richie and his friends fed off that implied immunity.  It was wrong, but it was a small town.  Her word against his, and the others who would close ranks, iy was to was easier just to disappear.

“Then we need a plan.”

“You’ll help me?”

“Anything to get out of going to the Prom, yes. But, sure, I’m sure I can come up with something.”

She kissed me on the cheek. “You know, I could get to love you.”

…

©  Charles Heath 2026

NaNoWriMo – April – 2026 – Day 22

I’m still working on two back chapters, which might become three,

But…

I’ve been steadily working on chapters 24 through 29, which were dependent on the framework set up in the two previous chapters.

It has actually made it easier to see where the story is going and make changes in both parts as I go along.

That now leaves me at Chapter 30, which is a major turning point for the story.

In the outline, I had the two protagonists doing one thing, and now I’ve pulled the plug on them, and they are doing something else.

The problem was that it was too predictable.

Still, now I’m at chapter 30, anything can happen.

NaNoWriMo – April – 2026 – Day 21

I’m currently working on some back chapters because they impact from the point where I’m currently up to, chapter 24/28, and with a little twerking, this part is coming together and will serve its purpose as a lead into what happens later on, and make sense where it was a little out of the blue.

I’ve got a new character, but what her role will be beyond this part of the story is yet to be determined. I think it might end up being a walk-on, walk-off, but part with lines.

Other than that, the novel is proceeding, and the end, three or four chapters long, is sitting at the back of my mind, and after a few more days, as we get closer to the end, it will become clear.

There is a plan, but as we are all fully aware, some things don’t go according to plan.