TheMr42

The Fairy Tale Fatalities, Part 2 He felt ridiculous. Sat on the kiddy chairs in the “Children’s Books” section of the library, his grey overcoat draped over a stegosaurus book case, he looked like some kind of freakish giant in world of pastel colours. He would have moved elsewhere, but there were so many copies of Little Red that it would have taken ages to carry them all to a table! Parents kept giving him suspicious glances but he really couldn’t have cared less. He was fixed on the case. Or maybe the case was his fix? Maybe he had been at the job so long he needed the cases to keep him going, to distract him. E

Each beat of the drum a labour of love. A love song I’ve spun from deep in the dark,                                                        I am the one who shall sing you to sleep. Take me for granted and pile it up high. The stress and the pain, so cutting and stark,                                                    I am the one who shall sing you to sleep. I sing with passion; I sing with my might. To keep you awake, to keep lit the spark,                                                        I am the one who shall sing you to sleep. My song is deep, ringing from within you. Distressing as death yet sweet as the lark,      

 The Fairy Tale Fatalities, Part 1 Rain lashed down on the motorway above; held up on great columns of concrete like a giant spine. The roar of the traffic was dull, muted by the rain as it poured onto the tarmac and off the sides of the overpass creating a curtain of water on either side of the underway. Detective Inspector McEwan hated rain. It washed away, it covered up, it masked, all of the above being detrimental to his profession. Also he disliked getting wet. If God had meant us to swim we’d all have gills and flippers. He set himself down on his haunches and looked up at the corpse swaying in the damp wind. 'So then, what&rs

Memories of Murder,Prologue Seven hours, one victim, three suspects, a murderer and copious amounts of paperwork later, McEwan wandered back through the peeling front door of his deteriorating semi, slouched through to the kitchen and staggered from cupboard to cupboard, slowly uniting the elements of a strong mug of tea. Settling on the least damaged mug, he made his way back toward the front of the house and retired to his living room, slumping into his flaking leather armchair. As he sipped tentatively from the mug, trying in vain not to scald his tongue, he thought. He did some of his best thinking in his chair. He thought about many th

Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf? Whatever is the matter child? You’ve such a pallid pall! Why are you up so late tonight? Can you not sleep at all? You had a scary dream you say? Oh dear, well that won’t do! A dream about the Big Bad Wolf and what he’d do to you? In that case dear come close at hand, would you a story hear? The true tale of that Big Bad Wolf that we unfairly fear. The Big Bad Wolf, as you will see, was not so big, or bad, he simply tried the best he could to keep the life he had for poor old Wolf had lost his job, a janitor no more, His missus was no help alive, She would not lift a paw He had