Little Secrets #2

Little Secrets
Chapter #2

“I was just coming out here to ask you how old the newspaper was.” Lacy replied, with a slight frown, “Who is this?”

“Must you be so rude?” Her father reprimanded her, jokingly, “This is Christopher, and he lives next door.”

Lacy nodded her head respectfully, “Pleased to meet you. I’m Lacy.”

“So I’ve heard.” Christopher said. His voice was a rich deep voice, a voice that would be hard to disobey. He was wearing clothes that marked him out. He wasn’t sort of person to get dirty hands through working. But more than that, he was handsome, in a slightly-older-man sort of way. The way he held himself said he was of some importance to the community, but at the same time, there was a touch of controlled anger and ice in his eyes. As if he was daring her to do something stupid.

“Lacy?” Her father called out to her, the voice came through muffled, and she panicked for a moment. “Lacy, did you hear what Christopher said to you?”

“No dad. I didn’t. I apologise. I was away with the faeries.” She replied, curtly, yet humbly.

“No matter.” Christopher cut in, sensing an argument could erupt at any moment, “I simply asked if you know any of the history of the area, and of your house. I’d be happy to take you off your father’s hands for a while, if that’s okay with you?”

‘He’s older than you.’ She chided herself, not wanting to give away that she thought he was handsome in her face, ‘At least 7 years older. That’s still significantly less than dad but still.’

Out loud she replied, “I’d love to. I always liked history myself.”

“That’s settled then.” Christopher laughed, “I suspect you may be a little wary of me, yes? I can see it. I’d like to host you and your father for dinner tonight, and get to know you both a bit better. The history tour can wait until later in the week.”

Lacy smiled, knowing it was just a false smile. This man gave her feelings like she’d never had before. She liked him, yes, but at the same time, there was a touch of something...not quite right about the whole affair. She let it slide, trusting in her father’s judgement.

She made her excuses and left the pagoda courtyard and went back into the house, cleaning the bench and tidying away her mess.

“Lacy, Christopher is very important to me and to the business. I must implore you not to go against him.” Her father’s voice was worried and almost pleading as she turned around. But upon seeing her, his face broke into a smile. “Christopher Newson wishes to entertain my daughter! You are one lucky girl.” His voice was that of jubilation as he danced her around the kitchen.

“Lucky?” Lacy exclaimed, “I’m 19, and this older man is taking an interest in me?” She broke free of her father’s hold and turned to him, her voice raising slightly. “Thats not lucky? That’s just creepy. Don’t you see it?”

Paul grabbed her wrist as she headed towards the stairs.\

“Don’t mess this up for me.” He said softly in her ear, “This...this is bigger than just you. If he chooses to entertain you, let him entertain you. The future, our future is riding on this. I won’t let you mess this up for me.”

“For you?” Lacy’s voice was that of confusion and anger, “For you? Right? So I don’t matter in this equation?”

“For us.” Paul corrected, but the damage was done. Lacy flew out of his reach and up the stairs. “It was for us, Lacy. Sweetheart, I didn’t mean it to come out the way it did.”

The only reply he got was a slammed door from upstairs.

Lacy was still lying on her bed when the moon rose over the horizon. She decided to get up and turn the lights on, and close the curtains. She did the former, but not the latter because when she went over to the window there was a silhouette in the house next door, looking across at her window. The silhouette was unmistakably Christopher’s, with broad shoulders and the air of which they were carried.  He carried a glass in his hand, probably brandy or whiskey and he raised the other one to wave at her.

Lacy was torn; she found him attractive, but at the same time, undeniably creepy. She wanted nothing more than to wave back, but still she held back for a few moments, trying to decide what to do.

Should Lacy wave back at the man who seems to be Christopher, OR should she close the curtains and try and forget about him?

© Samantha Millar

Until next time,

Atra du evarinya ono varda,
(May the stars watch over you)

Samantha.

Code 61

 

Code 61
Donald Harstead

"My name is Carl Houseman and I'm a deputy sheriff in Nation County, Iowa. I've been doing this for over twenty years now; long enough to graduate from the night shift to become the department's investigator,a and senior officer as well. Long enough to feel senior in every sense of the term. Somehow, when you finally pass fifty and realise a fellow officer was born about the same time you took the oath, you start to wonder if you might not begin to feel old pretty soon. I mean, maybe in another ten years or so.

 

It's been my experience that cases fall into categories that are a bit different from the examples that they cite at the academy. Most of the time, you have more than enough evidence to show how the offence was committed, but really have to work to identify who did it. The rest of the time, you pretty much knew who did the dirty deed, but showing how is the problem. In rare cases, a case will develop both ways at the same time. That was what this one did."

-Prologue, Code 61

 

To begin with, the prologue, it isn't all that interesting; the cover is rather mysterious and doesn't say much; and the blurb is not all that helpful. The most interesting bit about the cover is actually the little caption at the top which reads as follows:

An isolated house, a bloodthirsty murderer and a wall of silence

Which says a lot.

 

However, this book, among others of it's kind, is deceptively simple to make the real action come as a surprise. And boy oh boy does it come as a surprise in this book.

However boring the epilogue is, and however weird and creepy the first chapter is, persevere. The second chapter gets even weirder. However the writing pulls you along at a gripping yet comfortable pace, not making you take in too much information  at once, and adding some much needed humour as it goes along.

 

Donald Harstead is up there with the likes of Michael Connelly. His writing style is unique and quirky, yet simple enough to read. Everything is spelt out in plain, black and white, even with a handy glossary of abbreviations and police 'ten' codes used in radio transmissions is contained at the back of the book.

 

This story takes some rather unusual turns and is recommended to all who enjoy a quirky and good thriller, however does have a downfall for those not familiar with common crime/thriller abbreviations and the police 'ten' codes, as these are used quite frequently. If you are not sure, it's best to have a look at the back 4 pages first, but most get explained in the duration of the story, and being an adult novel there is also swearing in the book. Not prolifically, but also it is not used sparingly.

 

The characters are well introduced and developed, relationships formed, and secrets well hidden and exposed throughout the course of the story. With the major quirks aside, this book feels like it could be real, and could be just another part of the world somewhere that it's happening, it is just that well written.

 

Overall, a twisty plot of a quirky book, the likes of which don't come around too often.

 

Until next time,

Atra du evarinya ono varda,
(May the stars watch over you)

Samantha.

Little Secrets #1

Here it is, as promised, the first installment in the writing series that will be developing as we go along. I need feedback on this, where the story should go. If you have suggestions for the future chapters(not the next one) just let me know, characters to add, a secret to incorporate.....just contact me on the form or in the comments below.

Little Secrets

“Until the end, you are here.” He had told her, laughing at her discomfort.
Years later, the words still echoed through her mind.
 
Lacy Addington was sitting on the front step of the summer house, recalling the times that she had spent on the front step at home. Thinking about how many times she had been called in by her mother for getting too cold watching the sunset. About how many times she had got up early and watched the sunrise, and fallen asleep on the swing seat. Her smiles faded slowly as she felt the all too familiar tugs of longing, and hurt. She remembered she had been in a car crash, or so they had told her. Not much before that could she remember. Except the sunrises and sunsets.
 
The hospital, her doctors, her father all thought she wouldn’t survive. She was put in a drug induced coma for 2 months, waiting, watching, hoping. When she healed, and was taken out of it, the first thing she was told was that her mother had died. For weeks, she had been in a state of shock, blaming herself for the crash. But she couldn’t even remember if she had been the problem, what if she was the fault, she had distracted her mum?
 
Lacy felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Are you planning to stay out here all night?” the voice said. A sad smile crossed her face as her father sat down next to her. At 46, he was still in prime shape, though the hair was starting to turn grey, and his neatly trimmed beard was salt and pepper coloured.
“Dad. I miss....” She stopped her voice barely above a whisper, “I miss mum.”
“I know sweetheart.” Her father replied, his fingers reaching for her, pulling her closer to him. Lacy let herself be pulled towards his chest and rested her head on his shirt. He held her tight as her tears fell, her blond hair obscuring her face as her tears broke the silence of the night.
 
Lacy didn’t remember making her way up to her bed the night before. She woke up, still in her clothes, under her duvet, in her bedroom. Her last thought was that of the sunset, and the cold that claimed her. After getting up, and getting changed, she made her way downstairs, to see her father working on the gardens off to the right of the house, around the pagoda. She fixed herself toast, and stood at the bench, eating it while she read the newspaper. She frowned when she saw the date.
“Monday June 18 2012?” She murmured; confusion in her voice. She left her breakfast dishes on the bench, intending to ask her dad what had happened. She left the front door wide open as she ran towards where he father was working. As she neared, she noticed that somebody else was with him.
“Paul, you really do tell the strangest tales.” The man said, laughing. He looked around her age, early twenties.
Her father, leaning on the shovel, noticed her before the man did and smiled.
“And here’s my sleeping beauty.” He told the man with a twinkle in his eye, “What can I do for you?”

 

Shall she continue and ask her father the date and why she remembers it to be different, OR ask who the man is and why he is here?

© Samantha Millar

Until next time,

Atra du evarinya ono varda,
(May the stars watch over you)

Samantha.

 

 

here

Alex Rider #1: Stormbreaker

 

Stormbreaker

Alex Rider Series

Anthony Horowitz

 

    

"When the doorbell rings at three in the morning, it's never good news.

Alex Rider was woken by the first chime."

 

Alex Rider lives in Chelsea, England with his uncle and housekeeper, Jack. When his uncle, Ian Rider dies in suspicious circumstances, Alex is determined to investigate. His investigations lead him to the Royal & General Bank in central London, which turns out to be a cover for MI6. Alex is forcibly recruited into spy work, and sent on an intensive SAS training to prepare for the mission his uncle died doing.

 

Stormbreaker is the first in a completed series of 9 Alex Rider books, written by the English mastermind of teenage fiction, Anthony Horowitz.

 

Stormbreaker is a well written, superbly paced book, with amazing action sequences and excellent characters. This book is very much a slightly fantastical book, to suspend your disbelief a little makes this book a whole lot better. The plot is nicely rounded off at the end of the story, but also leaving it open for the continuation books to follow.

 

It introduces the main characters nicely, explaining some background, and character features, as well as making them people you can easily relate to in someway. The storyline is excellent with a nice balance of good and bad characters. However the story seems to still have no major cliffhanger type moments, do-or-die moments like other books have.

 

Compared to another teenage spy novel series like that of CHREUB(also by a British author set in England) it does not have the same appeal as for most of the time, it is just one good guy surrounded by lots of bad guys. However compared to many other teenage novels, this well written piece of fiction sets up some questions that get answered only when you get to the 8th and 9th books. Overall, it's a brilliant piece of fiction and I recommend it, but not as much as the best teenage spy novel series CHERUB.

 

Bottom line, I like it. I enjoy it. I recommend it. But I believe there are better books out there. The plot and characters are amazing, the way it is set out...not so much.

Until next time,

Atra du evarinya ono varda,
(May the stars watch over you)

Samantha.

Loss And Heartbreak (Writing)

This is a prewritten piece I have, the questions for the new story series are at the bottom. Please enjoy. Mostly unedited.

Loss and Heartbreak

“I wish that I could cry, fall upon my knees, and find a way to lie about a home I’ll never see.” – Five For Fighting

He lay there on the bathroom floor, crying his eyes out. It was 2am, and he was lost. He was falling into the depths of blackness, not sure how to follow the path, not wanting to see the end of this strange and unusual thread that he had began to pull.

It had started with her. Always her. She was the one that had broken him down, and then built him back up. There was two of them, or there was supposed to be. His feelings got mixed up somewhere along the way, and although they were separate people, with completely different lives and personalities, they had become one. Somewhere along the line, they had become one. The one that he had given everything for, who had just walked away. She had broken him. She had left him cold and lonely, in pieces on the floor crying his eyes out. Just like now. Then there was the other. The one who had taken those pieces and put him back together, the one who stood by him, defying her friends to do so. She had been there for him. And now she was breaking him.

By being broken herself, she was breaking him. She was blaming herself about things that had never been her fault in the first place; and by being broken, by blaming herself, she was breaking him. And that made her the one that broke him in the first place. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Everybody was supposed to be all happy, nothing was supposed to be broken. He was moving on, slowly, but it was happening. Domino effect. One thing went wrong, and the whole precariously balanced structure came crumbling down. All the progress, collapsing before his eyes. Loss and heartbreak intertwined, as he fell. Back to the place he had fought his way out of.

Everything he knew, he was scared of breaking. He was scared of falling even further. He was scared of making things worse. He just wanted things to go back to the way they had been, before he had told her. All that had led to his crying on the bathroom floor.

__________________________________________________

Inside her own head, she was blaming herself, for everything. She had opened her big mouth; said things that she had sworn to all gods and the devil that she would never say. She had held onto it so long, and something had broken it. If things in life could make a sound, you’d hear a little girl crying and a heart breaking. And because of her stupidness, she was breaking. She was collapsing. Her chest felt like it was being ripped apart, as she struggled to maintain some sort of semblance to her life, trying to put back together the pieces of not only herself, but the boy she knew she was on the point of destroying.


Author Notes:
A little piece written at 2am, inspired by a phone conversation. Mostly unedited.


Choices for the story:

Genre:
A) Dark
B) Love
C) Sad
D) Other (Say what)

Schedule and Updates

I know I said a week, and it's been more like a month. For that I am sorry. I got busy with school starting again, and my results came out and I just got swamped. That and I got a little bit lazy. It won't happen again. I promise.

This is because I have decided that instead of doing daily posts, I will update twice a week. One will be a review, and the other will be a story that I will write, on here, with your input. At the end of each weeks chapter, I will leave a decision. It will be up to you to decide which option I will take, by popular vote.

The story will be up on a Saturday (+12GMT) and the review will be up on a Wednesday (+12GMT).
I am still endeavouring to do books that people want reviews on, and am thinking about putting pictures to the story, (probably using minecraft), let me know what you think.

I can't apologise enough for my absence, and this lightened schedule ensures I will keep up to date.

Until next time,
Atra du evarinya ono varda,
(May the stars watch over you)
Samantha.