tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24699451537353338932024-03-13T12:27:39.575-07:00What Would Gandhi Do?Reviews and thoughts on the fiction I consume in my life. If I don't like it, I don't review it.
Twitter - @MicRobertson
Facebook - http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=629181457Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07902533927814790513noreply@blogger.comBlogger63125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2469945153735333893.post-79395269622194113742014-09-04T06:36:00.001-07:002014-09-04T06:36:50.936-07:00Rise of the Planet of the Apes - A ReviewOkay, so this film is a few years old now, but seeing as I've only just watched it - Having kids has certainly taken my finger of the pop culture pulse - I wanted to offer my thoughts.<br />
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Rise is clearly the start of a new run of Apes films. With Dawn having just gone through the cinemas, I felt it was time to watch it.<br />
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As the title suggests, Rise is the Apes book of Genesis.<br />
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In Rise, we get to know the first Ape - Caesar. Used in experiments to find a cure for Alzheimer's disease, Caesar develops way beyond the expected intellect of a normal ape. This is handled well in the film, always highlighting the potential problems for messing with nature and science.<br />
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When Caesar's death is ordered due to an experiment going wrong, Will Rodman (played by James Franco), takes him home to live with him.<br />
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The inevitable happens and Caesar becomes a threat to society. This is when he's transferred to a sanctuary. Up until this point, I was invested in the story, cared for Caesar's plight and really wanted to see him make it through. But it was at the sanctuary where the film lost me.<br />
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While in the sanctuary, Caesar finds himself in the care of a worker who hates apes. The thing is, the worker doesn't seem to have any motivation for hating the apes other than his own inherent cruelty. While this sets up the tension required for the conflict that sees Caesar eventually pop, it makes the sanctuary worker hideously one-dimensional and unbelievable. It was like they'd drafted in a Scooby Doo villain to push the story forwards because they didn't know how else to create conflict.<br />
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As the title suggests, the ensuing drama leads to the rise of the planet of the apes.<br />
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Were it not for the weak middle this would have been a great film. I'll definitely watch Dawn and hope Draco Malfoy is nowhere to be seen. The annoying thing is, he would have gotten away with it if it wasn't for those pesky apes.<br />
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Rating - 6.5 out of 10.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07902533927814790513noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2469945153735333893.post-6186263069735358532014-08-24T15:49:00.000-07:002014-08-24T15:49:24.541-07:00A Review of Dead Hunger by Eric A. Shelman Dead Hunger is book one in a series of books by Eric A Shelman - His author page on Amazon can be found <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Eric-A.-Shelman/e/B001K91I2Y/ref=dp_byline_cont_book_1">here</a>.<br />
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Dead Hunger is a zombie book, which I'm sure is pretty obvious from the cover image. We see the outbreak though the eyes of Flex Sheridan. The book starts with him rushing to see his sister, who is turning into a zombie while talking to him on the phone.<br />
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In my reviews I try to avoid spoilers where possible, so please forgive my talking around the plot without much specific detail.<br />
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Like all good zombie stories, this book has a core group of characters at the centre of it that I truly cared about. The story starts with the main character, Flex, introducing the group. Time is then rewound to the start of the outbreak, or at least Flex's first experience of it, before the group had formed. You see how the group came together. I thought this was an interesting way of telling the story and made the first appearance of each of the group members all the more powerful.<br />
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The first few chapters really pull you into the story, the behaviour of the zombies is human, yet alien at the same time. They're portrayed in a way that's truly unsettling.<br />
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Having read a lot of zombie fiction, the actual zombies don't usually affect me. However, in Dead Hunger I found myself suitably unsettled by how they acted. Especially Flex's sister. The horror is subtle in Eric Shelman's prose, it's layered and creeps up on you like a rising tide.<br />
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This is a well written book that sets up the series well. I look forward to reading book two.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07902533927814790513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2469945153735333893.post-71951287934782068842014-08-10T13:29:00.000-07:002014-08-10T13:29:11.949-07:00A review of The Fault in our Stars by John GreenOkay, so this book probably doesn't need any more press, but I've just finished it and I thought I'd add my thoughts on it.<br />
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Before I read this book, I wasn't sure if it would be for me. I like young adult, but it's not a genre I actively seek out.<br />
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Unless you've been living in a cave, you've probably heard about this book. It's the story of a teenage girl, Hazel, who is terminally ill with cancer. While at a support group for people suffering with cancer, she meets Augustus, who is in remission, and so the love affair begins.<br />
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Hazel isn't self-pitying about her disease. All she's trying to do is live her life, respond to her emotions, and make the most out of the time she has left. It's this attitude that makes her life so engaging.<br />
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Hazel's love interest, Augustus (Gus), is witty and eloquent. At points I found him a little too eloquent and borderline pretentious, but those moments were fleeting. On the whole I loved him and his role in the story.<br />
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Getting to know these characters and see their love grow was a pleasure. Green manages to negotiate teenage love without making it feel like an over-emotional mess. It was well handled and captivating to read. This made the sad scenes all the more heartbreaking.<br />
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While reading this book, I felt so close to the action I could smell cancer and everything associated with it. The treatments, the hospitals, the drugs...<br />
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To avoid spoilers I won't take my review any further.<br />
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John Green is an amazing author, with a wonderful prose style. Incredibly conscious writing makes for an easy read, but a well crafted one.<br />
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This is a great book and one I would recommend to anyone. It's funny, heart breaking, and incredibly well told. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07902533927814790513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2469945153735333893.post-58725821651236621912014-08-03T01:01:00.001-07:002014-08-03T01:24:18.313-07:00Space Mullet, Chapter Two, by Daniel Warren Johnson
-www.space-mullet.com<div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">After reading chapter one last month, I've finally managed to find the time to return to chapter two, and I'm so glad I did. Following on from the first chapter, the plot reveals more about the space marines and Jonah's dark history with them. </span></div><div><br></div><div>In a bid to avoid spoilers, all I'll say is the story gets darker and more complex, introducing new characters and depth to the narrative.</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-q58-acZEGRU/U93xrwnMSWI/AAAAAAAAA2I/xicI9IXnikU/s640/blogger-image-459786758.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-q58-acZEGRU/U93xrwnMSWI/AAAAAAAAA2I/xicI9IXnikU/s640/blogger-image-459786758.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>There are several twists and turns in the chapter, none of them contrived, and some of them made me giddy-the monsters so beautifully rendered. I wish I had some of these pages in my collection! </div><div><br></div><div>The art is amazing. The story telling is such you can fly through the issue, transitioning from panel to panel smoothly. Although, each panel is so beautiful, it makes you stop and appreciate this amazing world. </div><div><br></div><div>Fast paced, dark, imaginative, and beautiful, this is a must read, and is FREE to read. </div><div><br></div><div>5 Stars.</div><div><br></div><div>Can we have a hardcover please Daniel?</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07902533927814790513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2469945153735333893.post-16283488807886820692014-07-25T22:11:00.000-07:002014-07-25T22:11:48.498-07:00A Review of Odium 2 by Claire C Riley As the title suggests, Odium 2 is the follow up to Odium. Odium Origins is also available, which I'm yet to read.<br />
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The Odium series of books are about the zombie apocalypse. We start Odium well after the zombie outbreak with the main character, Nina, leaving the protection of the walled city she's living within. Sometimes taking your chances with the zombies is a better option than staying where you are.<br />
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The sequel follows on from the original, so Odium is essential reading before moving on to Odium 2. <br />
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Not only is the writing great in the Odium books, and the characters are well rounded and realised, but the thing that grabbed my attention more than anything was the settings the characters find themselves in. I won't spoil the journey by listing them, but I found myself marvelling at the imaginative environments in which the characters ended up.<br />
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If you like well written zombie fiction, strong characters, and a strong female lead, then you can't go wrong with the Odium series. With intrigue from both the future and the past, I found myself hungry for more with every page turn.<br />
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My only complaint is that Odium 3 isn't ready yet!<br />
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A great series for anyone who loves zombie fiction. Tense, intriguing, funny, violent. What more could you want?<br />
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Keep up the great writing Claire.<br />
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For a full list of Claire's work, check her <a href="http://www.clairecriley.com/">website</a> out.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07902533927814790513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2469945153735333893.post-49855527407643490922014-07-11T16:01:00.000-07:002014-07-11T16:08:24.850-07:00A Review of Critical Dawn by Darren Wearmouth and Colin Barnes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
This review is written with the aim to avoid spoilers, so please forgive me if it's a little light on details. </div>
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Critical Dawn is the story of an alien invasion on planet Earth. At the start, the book is narrated from the perspectives of two characters. Their situations seem impossibly far apart, and I found myself racing through the book to understand just how their lives would inevitably cross. </div>
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Playing cleverly with time, Wearmouth and Barnes manage to weave a compelling story of alien invasion that's truly horrific to imagine. Fast paced, brutal, and entirely compelling, Critical Dawn had me thinking about the story long after I'd put the book down. </div>
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The characters are both well rounded and well realised. The individual personalities of each one shines through. </div>
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For anyone looking for a strong Sci-fi tale, full of action and suspense, then look no further than Critical Dawn. </div>
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Highly recommended. </div>
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5 out of 5 stars. </div>
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Links to Critical Dawn:-</div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Critical-Dawn-Wearmouth-Barnes/dp/1499711115">Amazon.com</a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07902533927814790513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2469945153735333893.post-6437695337572344242014-06-29T00:34:00.001-07:002014-06-29T02:04:06.729-07:00Space Mullet, Chapter One, by Daniel Warren Johnson -www.space-mullet.comI first heard of this comic on Eleven O'Clock Comics. Skottie Young recommended it.<br />
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The premise of Space Mullet is a Space Marine has gone AWOL, although we don't yet know why. The story starts with the AWOL marine - Jonah - going on a mission. The leader of said mission seems reckless and unhinged, and Jonah is clearly uneasy with him from the start. </div>
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The story then fast forwards a few years and Jonah is roaming through space, picking up work as a Space Trucker with a Zozobian named Alphius. If I'm looking for comparisons, I'm inclined to draw the obvious one between Han and Chewbacca.<br />
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In the first chapter we're told that Jonah has a dark past, one he's trying to free himself from. The suggestion is that something happened during the mission he went on at the beginning. We also find out that Alphius would follow him into the sun because he saved him - again this reminded me of the Chewbacca life debt.</div>
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The art is beautiful, the story flowing from panel to panel. The different aliens have great designs and the world building is amazing. The second we landed down on the first planet, I was transported into a rich world of poverty and violence. A world I wanted to know so much more about.</div>
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I don't want to spoil the story of the first chapter, but I would highly recommend this webcomic. Surely this story needs the Kickstarter hardcover treatment?</div>
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This is a great sci-fi comic with a fast pace and engaging worlds / characters.</div>
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Highly recommended.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07902533927814790513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2469945153735333893.post-32310525602866163782014-02-10T07:58:00.000-08:002014-02-10T07:58:35.531-08:00A Review of Sweet Tooth, Out of the Woods, by Jeff Lemire and Jose Villarubia<div style="font-family: Cochin; font-size: 14px; text-indent: 18px;">
Out of the Woods is the first story arc in Sweet Tooth, a Vertigo comic by Jeff Lemire and Jose Villarubia. </div>
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The first thing to grab me was just how beautiful this book is. Both Lemire’s art and Jose Villarubia’s muted colour palette set the tone for this bleak, post-apocalyptic tale.</div>
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The first story arc is called Out of the Woods and it introduces us to Gus, a hybrid child with antlers. We find out that his mother has died and his dad is keeping him in a cabin in the woods away from the rest of the world. Because of what his father has told him, Gus believes the outside world to be dangerous.</div>
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Having spent his entire existence in seclusion, Gus’ life is suddenly thrown into turmoil when his father dies. The boy knows nothing of the world and now has to survive in it. </div>
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We find out very quickly that Gus’ antlers means he’s a hybrid. This makes him valuable to other people. Although, it’s not clear why. It creates wonderful intrigue as it makes the reader question every person’s motives that he comes into contact with. </div>
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When Gus is approached by poachers, Jeppard, a haggard Clint Eastwood kind of character, rescues him. With the promise of being taken to a safe place, Gus goes with Jeppard. </div>
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Seeing the world through Gus’ eyes gives the reader a naive view on things. You can see that the other characters have motives, but you can’t understand them because Gus doesn’t. </div>
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It’s wonderful storytelling.</div>
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The set up of this book reminded me of Cormac McCarthy’s <i>The Road</i>. We have a man and a boy trying to exist in a savage world where there are no rules. The biggest threat are the other survivors. </div>
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I’ve always been impressed with Lemire’s story telling skills and Sweet Tooth is my favourite so far. The tale moves at quite a clip and the naivety of Gus broke my heart. He’s such a pure soul in a broken and violent world. </div>
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I will definitely be reading more of this story. </div>
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5 out of 5 stars! </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07902533927814790513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2469945153735333893.post-4373774205457551482014-02-08T11:42:00.001-08:002014-02-08T11:50:03.779-08:00A Review of FVZA (Federal Vampire and Zombie Agency) by David Hine, Roy Allen Martinez, Kinsun Loh and Jerry Choo<div style="font-family: Cochin; font-size: 14px; text-indent: 18px;">
<b>FVZA is written by David Hine, illustrated by Roy Allan Martinez and painted by Kinsun Loh and Jerry Choo. </b><br />
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FVZA (Federal Vampire and Zombie Agency) is a three-issue miniseries by Radical. Although it’s only three-issues, each issue is about three times the length of a normal comic book. </div>
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The story follows a woman called Landra, who, with her brother, Vidal, is raised by her Grandad. Her Grandad used to be a director at the FVZA before it was disbanded, the threat of zombies and vampires seeming to have vanished. </div>
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Not confident this was the case, the Grandfather trains Landra and Vidal on how to kill zombies and vampires, so if the threat returned they would be ready. </div>
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The inevitable happens and the government calls on the Grandfather’s expertise to deal with the matter. Landra and Vidal follow their grandfather into setting up the FVZA once again. </div>
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I love zombie stories, but vampire tales can leave me dry. I have to say, this book has made me want to read more vampire fiction. Instead of beautiful and pallid goths walking around in long coats, these vampires are fierce monsters. Ruthless and detached killers.</div>
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The zombies are also presented with a slight twist. Very early on, I found myself questioning who the real monsters were as I saw what the humans were doing to these creatures. To give zombies personality is quite tricky, and I thought this book did it in a very clever way by showing traces of who they used to be.</div>
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The intrigue running through this story and the human relationships kept me going, and even with the first issue delivering a lot of back story, I was fascinated by it and wanted to know more. </div>
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The art is beautiful. It has a painted style, which can sometimes fall flat for me, but the story telling in this book remained dynamic and I could always tell which character was which. My fear was that I would get confused with the vampires and zombies, because they all look similar, but subtle differences between the creatures meant I was never unsure as to who I was looking at. </div>
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The story wraps up well to a satisfying conclusion with a lot of heart. The first issue set me up with an expectation of what was going to happen, but by the end I’d gone on a completely different journey. </div>
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This is a great book for those looking for a solid vampire and zombie story without-okay I have to say it-sparkling skin or teenage angst. </div>
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4 out of 5 stars! </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07902533927814790513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2469945153735333893.post-35746616220493614582013-11-28T15:21:00.000-08:002013-11-28T15:38:07.643-08:00A Review of The Incal by Jodorowsky and MoebiusFirstly, I'd like to apologise if this review sounds like total gibberish. I've just finished this book and had to take the time to review it. This work has affected me on a much deeper level than anything I've read in a long time. Wow! Just wow!<br />
<br />
(Heavy Spoilers)<br />
<br />
Wow. Wow. Wow.<br />
<br />
At first, I thought this book was a crazy, trippy sci-fi adventure. And while it is that, it's so, so much more.<br />
<br />
We start this story with our main character, John DiFool, coming into possession of the White Incal. It appears that everyone wants it because of the power it has. The next few chapters have him running from those who seek to possess the Incal.<br />
<br />
The white Incal has an opposite - the black Incal, and when the two come together, they create an almighty, omnipotent entity that guides the main characters through the story. They create God, Allah (insert deity here). The unification of the black and white Incal is everything. Together they are the highest consciousness.<br />
<br />
During the story, a darkness is spreading and the main characters are driven to fight it. There are seven main characters in total, but the POV character is the everyman John DiFool.<br />
<br />
As the darkness spreads, it turns out that the only way to survive is for humanity to come together as one. To evolve into a collective consciousness. The way humanity can do this is to fall into a meditative state called the Theta Dream. With only 22 days to make it happen, John DiFool tries to escape and sate his base human desires for sex and intoxication, but his destiny is greater than that. Humanity's destiny is greater than that.<br />
<br />
It's John who's tasked with going to a planet of 87 billion humans, that he spawned, to convince them to enter the Theta Dream. He's met with the scepticism of those detached from their own spirituality, possibly a representation of society as it is now. But he eventually persuades them.<br />
<br />
Once the humans enter this meditative state, we see the seven main characters move to a higher spiritual plain that takes them into the darkness. Behind it is light. All of the characters, other than John, embrace the light and become one with it. Letting go of their temporary physical forms and giving themselves over to the eternal. They understand that their physical manifestation is not who they are. They see how interconnected everything is. John is the only one that resists. I see John as a representation of humanity, holding onto the physicality of his being through fear of losing his individuality, while the others see that loss of individuality as freedom. As evolution.<br />
<br />
John meets with God and we see God reborn and returned as a baby. The representation of a new universe born out of the destruction of an old one. John is then sent back to earth with the order to remember his meeting with God. His higher purpose. To remember what humanity is capable of and where we will inevitably go.<br />
<br />
I once heard the story of Adam and Eve described as humanity falling from their higher spiritual purpose. As Eve's eating of the forbidden fruit representing humanity succumbing to material and base desires rather than higher spiritual ones. Reading The Incal made me think of this interpretation. John DiFool is humanity out of touch with spirituality. John DiFool is Adam. The story in the Incal is one of human evolution. Of our inevitable evolution. Our inevitable awakening.<br />
<br />
This book blew my mind. My only criticism is that it will make so many other works feel empty by comparison.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07902533927814790513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2469945153735333893.post-80648226710222963092013-11-07T23:11:00.000-08:002013-12-31T21:43:14.851-08:00The Tooth FairyBelow is a short story set in the same world as my novella <a href="http://michaelrobertson.co.uk/my-books.html">Crash</a>. It shows the collapse of society from the perspective of characters that don't feature in the book. I hope you enjoy it.<br />
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
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<b><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The Tooth Fairy<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Looking
over his shoulder at their burning house, Josh turned to his brother. “Do you
think they’re coming back?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Archie, at
seventeen, was three years older than Josh. “I don’t know. Maybe, but it’s been
three days, and we can’t wait in a house that’s on fire.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-hyphenate: none; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“So what
shall we do?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“We’ve got
to go to Nana’s. If any of our family are still in London, that’s where they’ll
be.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-hyphenate: none; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“I think we
should stay here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-hyphenate: none; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“And wait
where, Josh? In case you hadn’t notice, they set fire to our fucking house!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">A lump rose
into Josh’s throat, and he stared at the floor through blurry eyes. “I dunno. I
just want to make sure we’re here when Mum and Dad come back.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Archie’s
words stabbed at his heart. “And what if they don’t come back?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Before Josh
could reply, Archie put a hand on his shoulder. “Get down!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Hunching
with his brother behind a low wall, Josh listened to the sound of the
approaching voices. A couple of them were deep like men’s voices, but most of
them had the prepubescent squeak of children. Shivering in the cold, Josh
looked at his brother, who placed a finger over his closed lips. The
accompanying frown told Josh to shut the fuck up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">It was hard
to stay quiet with both the cold and adrenaline trying to wobble his body.
Stuttered breaths shot out of him and turned to condensation as the voices got
closer. He could suddenly hear their conversation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Where are
we going now, Sam?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Back to
the shop.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“But we
don’t have any food.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“I know.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Well, what
are we going to do about food?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Unless you
want to fight someone for it, then fuck all. I’m not against having a scrap,
but I don’t fancy our chances against fully grown men. We’ll find something
tomorrow.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“But the
supermarkets have been picked clean.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">A slapping
sound made Josh flinch. The second voice then said, “Ow! What was that for?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“For you
being a cunt. Stop giving me problems. If you have some solutions, then share
them with the group. Otherwise, shut the fuck up!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The voices
were getting closer. Josh and Archie had picked the wrong place to hide.
Forcing his eyes shut, Josh listened to the collection of footsteps scuffing
over the road surface.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Well,
well, what have we here?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Opening his
eyes, Josh saw a group of about twelve boys—half of them were from his school.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Looking
down at the pair, the boy who seemed to be leading the group smiled. “Archie
McCartney, how are you doing, mate?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-hyphenate: none; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Turning to
his brother, Josh watched Archie stand up and shake the boy’s hand. “How you
doing, Sam?” He then nodded at several others in the group, and a series of
head nods and flicks returned his gesture. Pointing down at Josh, Archie then
helped him to his feet. “This is my brother—Josh.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">When Sam
held his hand out, Josh shook it but remained silent. There was something in
the way his brother held himself that told Josh this boy wasn’t to be trusted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Throwing,
Archie said, “So what’s happening around here?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Sam leant
forwards as if he hadn’t heard him correctly. “Huh?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Looking
around, buildings burning, shops smashed, Archie waved a hand over the
devastation. “What’s happening here?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-hyphenate: none; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Where have
you been for the last two weeks?” When Sam looked at the collection of boys, and
a couple of them sniggered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-hyphenate: none; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“We’ve been
at home, haven’t we, Josh?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Josh
nodded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Mum and
Dad told us not to go out, so we stayed in. They said there was trouble on the
streets.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“There’s
more than fucking trouble, Archie. London’s fucked! After the economic crash,
everything went to shit.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Josh stood
in the almost empty space and looked around. The dolls in the abandoned shop
looked weird naked and with some of their limbs missing. The store had been
picked clean save for a few dirty items of clothing on the floor. All that
remained was the long checkout desk. Most of the tills that should have been
bolted to it had been smashed off. A few lopsided signs hung from the Styrofoam
roof tiles saying things like ‘Two T-Shirts for £22’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Should we
be here, Archie?” Josh asked, his voice echoing in the sparse room.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Archie
frowned. “What?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“This shop
doesn’t look like somewhere we’re meant to be.” Pointing first at the stainless
steel rails, then at the empty display tables, Josh said, “It’s private
property.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-hyphenate: none; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Shops
don’t exist anymore, Josh.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“What do
you mean?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Money
doesn’t work. Without money, why would there be shops? When there’s no profit
to be made, no one gives a fuck about anything.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Keeping his
mouth shut because he didn’t really know anything about business, Josh cleared
his throat. “I’m cold, Archie.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“So am I.
We just have to deal with it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Heat suddenly
stung Josh’s eyes and his world blurred.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">When Archie
looked at him, he tutted. His face then softened and he put his arm around his
younger brother. “Don’t worry, mate. This is just a stopover on the way to
Nana’s. It’s only for one night. I want to make sure we’re off the streets
while it’s dark. The city isn’t safe.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">After
looking around again, the empty space lit up by the moon shining in through the
windows on the other side of the building, Josh shrugged. “Where are we going
to sleep? There are no beds or sheets.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“We’ll have
to sleep on the floor; it’ll only be for a night.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">A shiver
ran down the length of Josh’s body. “But it’s cold, Archie.” When he saw Archie
ball his fists, he flinched, but the expected punch didn’t come.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-hyphenate: none; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Look,
Josh. Everything’s shit at the moment. It’s not all corn flakes and Saturday
morning cartoons anymore, okay? Things have changed. We just have to deal with
what’s going on the best we can.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Staring at
the grubby floor, Josh didn’t reply.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Okay?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Swallowing
the lump in his throat, Josh finally nodded. “Okay, Archie.” Speaking more
quietly, he added, “Sorry.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Walking
over to the window, Josh glanced out at the moonlit street. “It’s strange to
see Oxford Street without any lights, don’t you think?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Frowning as
he continued to look around, Archie didn’t reply. Instead, he walked over to
the middle of the shop.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Following
his brother, Josh asked, “Do you think Mum and Dad will be there?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Where?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Nana’s. Do
you think Mum and Dad will be at Nana’s?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Looking at
his brother for a second, his frown softening, Archie shrugged. “Who knows?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“What will
we do if they’re not?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“We’ll
think of something else. Everything’s changing, and we have to learn to adapt
if we’re going to stay alive.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Josh’s
reply caught in his throat when he heard footsteps downstairs—a lot of footsteps.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Archie’s
eyes were wide as he looked at the broken escalator. He’d heard them too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">When Josh
heard the sound of men’s voices, he started to shake. There were other voices, but
they sounded younger, a similar age to Josh.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-hyphenate: none; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The heavy
footsteps clattered on the metal stairs, and Josh jumped when Archie hooked his
arm around him. They both stared. Waiting. There was nowhere to run.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-hyphenate: none; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">When the
first of the gang reached the top, Josh saw that he was no older than about
seventeen. When the rest of the gang appeared, filthy and dressed like savages,
Josh guessed that he was the leader because of his age. He was clearly the
oldest in the group of about twenty boys.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">When he saw
them, the older boy stopped dead and put his arm out to prevent the others from
passing him. “Who the fuck are you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-hyphenate: none; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“We’re—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“It doesn’t
matter who we are,” Archie said, pushing Josh behind him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-hyphenate: none; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Looking at
his gang, the leader laughed and turned back to the pair. “Of course it fucking
matters. You’re in my shop, you mugs.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">With a
pounding heart, Josh watched his brother clench his fists again. If it came to
it, Archie would smash the shit out of this boy. Archie was one of the
strongest people he knew, but could he take on all of them?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“This ain’t
your shop. You don’t own it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The boy
shook his head and laughed again. “First night out on the streets, is it? What
happened? Your parents were taken away from you? Raped? Killed?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Looking up
at his brother, Josh teared up. “What are they talking about, Archie?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Putting his
hand on Josh’s shoulder, Archie looked back at the boy. “No. None of that
happened.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Then why
are you out on the streets on your own? Where are your parents?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“They went
out. For food…” Josh’s stomach lurched when he heard the resignation in his
brother’s voice, “three days ago.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Grabbing a
boy next to him, who was no older than seven, the gang leader shoved him
forwards. “This is Reece. What happened to your parents, Reece?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Dropping
his eyes to the floor, Reece replied, “They went out for food.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Tell them
how long you waited for them to come back.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Ten days.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Sighing,
the leader pointed at Reece. “We found this poor cunt starved half to death. He
was picking through bins for food.” Turning to his gang, he added, “Raise your
hands if your parents went out and didn’t come back.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The air
left Josh’s lungs as half the group raised their hands. Sad and hollow stares
levelled at him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Keep your
hands up if you think your parents are still alive.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">All of the
hands went down.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Wearing a
sneer, the leader laughed. “Your parents are dead, boy. Or worse! The sooner
you face it, the sooner you can focus on learning how to survive in this new
world. It’s shit out there, and you need to get streetwise pretty fucking
quick. I don’t mind you staying here just for tonight—we have fuck all worth stealing—but
I want you gone tomorrow. Understand?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Archie
nodded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Oh, and be
careful of the Tooth Fairy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“The Tooth
Fairy?” The words had left Josh’s mouth before he’d thought about it, and
Archie shot him a dark glare.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The boy
laughed and shook his head. Brushing his shaggy hair away from his eyes, he
looked from one of the brothers to the other. “Oh dear, you have a lot to
learn.” Twisting so he could address his gang, the moonlight lighting up just
half of his face, the boy said, “The Tooth Fairy’s mental, ain’t he, boys?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">A lot of
the gang nodded and grunted noises of agreement.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“He walks
this street at night, and he gets you when you’re sleeping. He slips into your
nightmares and makes sure you never wake up.” Lowering his voice, making Josh
lean forwards to hear better, the boy continued, “If you listen hard enough,
you can hear the jingle jangle of his pockets.” Pushing his finger to his lips,
he added, “Shhh. Listen.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The
faintest sound of jangling came from outside, and the grin on the leader’s face
fell to the floor. “Oh fuck.” He turned to his gang and whispered, “He’s here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The gang
went into a near silent frenzy, all of them scattering across the shop floor
with the light pattering of shoes against tiles. They all positioned themselves
to watch from the windows. All of them hidden in the shadows.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Shaking his
head, Archie laughed. “They’re just trying to scare you, Josh.” Despite his
confidence, he still walked quietly to the last available window.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Josh
followed, the grit on the floor crunching beneath his feet. If they were trying
to scare him, they were doing a pretty good job.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">In the
doorway of an abandoned shop was a tramp covered in rags and blankets. He was
huddled in the corner for warmth, and he was surrounded by empty beer cans.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Pulling his
brother in tight, Archie leaned in so close that Josh could smell his stale
breath as he whispered, “See? There’s only a tramp out there. It must have been
his beer cans rattling in the wind.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The
jangling continued, but everything surrounding the tramp was still. The sound
wasn’t one of aluminium on concrete; it sounded more like broken crockery in a
bag.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">When Josh
looked up the street and saw a man walking down the pavement, he grabbed his
brother’s arm. The slim figure had something hanging from his hand, and it
looked like a hammer. He was heading straight for the tramp. “What’s he going
to do, Arch?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Archie put
his finger to his lips.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">When the
walking man got closer, it was easier to see him clearly. He was wearing a
trench coat that looked damp, and Josh imagined it stinking of mould. Poking
out of the bottom of his trench coat were dark trousers and shoes. It was
impossible to see his face for shadow, and just when it looked like the moon
would reveal it, it fell into shadow again. The only thing Josh saw was his
stubbly neck.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The man
stopped next to the tramp, and the jangling stopped too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Moving
closer to his brother, Josh could feel that he was shaking too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">When the
man lifted his weapon, the moonlight confirmed it was a hammer. In a blink, he
brought it down. <i>Crunch!</i> The tramp
didn’t have time to scream.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Hunched
over the tramp, the Tooth Fairy threw several more wet thuds into the pile of
clothes in the doorway before standing back and panting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">To get a
better view, Josh stood up and moved closer to the window.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The Tooth
Fairy then pulled something from his trench coat pocket.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Pushing the
tramp’s damp rags aside revealed a dark, glistening mass of hair. The Tooth
Fairy leant in, and shoving the thing he’d pulled from his pocket into the
man’s face, he twisted. After two tugs and a wet pop, the Tooth Fairy stepped
away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Putting the
pliers back in his pocket, he held the tooth up to the moon. It seemed like he
was watching it for an age before he shifted his gaze. His glare landed on
Josh.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Josh’s
balls pulled tight, and it took all of his concentration to hold onto his
bladder. His heart pounded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Dropping
the tooth into his pocket, the Tooth Fairy continued staring. It was easy to
see the filthy man’s face now. Stubbly. Stained with blood. Hooked nose. Dark
eyes. Really dark eyes. Sticking his thumb out, he sneered as he drew it across
his throat like an imaginary knife. Staring for another minute or so, he then
walked away. The tingle of hundreds of teeth accompanied his footsteps.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Once he was
out of sight, Josh felt an explosion of pain in his right arm. “You fucking
idiot!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Rubbing it,
Josh scowled at his brother. “Ow!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“What were
you fucking doing? You were right in the fucking light. He’s seen you now!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Stepping
from the shadows and bringing the smell of dirt with him, the leader of the
gang said, “You know what that means, don’t you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Gulping dry
air, Josh shook his head.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“He’s
marked you, bruv.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Stepping
into the boy’s personal space, Archie said, “Don’t be fucking stupid.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The boy
shrugged. “You don’t have to take my word for it, but I’ve seen it before.
You’ve been marked. The next time you close your eyes to sleep, you’ll hear the
jingle-jangle of the Tooth Fairy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Look, mate—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“I ain’t
your mate.” He pointed at Josh. “Especially now the Tooth Fairy’s seen him.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Whatever.
Just fuck off, yeah?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“You’re in
my home.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Their
conversation stopped making sense to Josh as his world spun. He only realised
what they were doing when Archie grabbed his arm and said, “Come on. We’re
going.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Allowing
his brother to lead him down the escalator, Josh heard the boys shouting down
to them, “Sweet dreams!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">As they
walked across the ground floor of the shop, chased out of the building by
laughter, Josh dug his heels in, making Archie stop. “Wasn’t he the man that
burned our house down?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Archie
nodded. “Yeah, he was. Now let’s go before the lunatic comes back and burns
this place down.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“I thought
you said it wasn’t safe to walk the streets at night.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Turning to
face his brother, Archie grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “Listen to me.
Nowhere’s safe, Josh. Dad said something to me before he left. He said that
everything’s changing now—that we couldn’t trust anyone or anything. All we can
do is love one another. Make sure that the other one’s all right, and expect
change. He said he loves us—they both do.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Pouting,
Josh said, “He also said they’d be back.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Maybe they
have gone back. Maybe we’ve just missed them.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Don’t say
that, Archie.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“What could
we have done? Stayed in a burning house? The point is, he said we need to
adapt. Nothing stays the same; it just happens to be moving quicker now than
ever. Dad said as long as we love each other, then we’ll be okay. Love is
constant.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“I miss Mum
and Dad.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">It was the
first time in a long while Josh had seen Archie cry. Wiping his eyes, his big
brother said, “I miss them too. I love you, Josh. Now let’s go before that
lunatic comes back. All we can do is focus on getting to Nana’s.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">With the
sting of tears spreading across his eyeballs, Josh followed his brother out of
the building.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<!--EndFragment--></h3>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07902533927814790513noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2469945153735333893.post-35546682270179983222013-10-26T02:25:00.001-07:002013-12-31T21:44:40.979-08:00What Not to do at a Job Interview<br />
<div style="font-family: Cochin; font-size: 14px; text-indent: 18px;">
Below is a short story from the world of my first novella <i><a href="http://michaelrobertson.co.uk/crash---available-now.html">Crash.</a> </i>It’s a post apocalyptic series, although this story is set before the world fell apart. It's a job interview with one of the main characters of the book. I hope you enjoy it. </div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">What Not to do at a Job Interview<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Dean sat at the round table in silence, his mouth dry.
On the other side, the interviewer studied his notes. Circular placemats were
randomly scattered over the highly polished surface. Lifting his glass of water
from one of the mats, Dean took a sip of the chilled liquid and placed it down
again. The cold gulp soothed his throat but landed hard in his anxious stomach.
Staring at the orbs of condensation rolling down its side, he focused on his
breathing to calm his nausea and only looked up when the interviewer spoke.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Mr Brown?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Dean laughed. “Mr Brown was my father; please call me
Dean.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The man stared for a second, his moon face blank.
Looking back down at his sheet, he cleared his throat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The muscles in Dean’s back tightened and his shoulders
lifted to his neck. Sweat left his armpits and rolled down the sides of his
ribcage. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Who does this cunt think he is?</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“So you’ve been unemployed for the last eight years?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">A hot flush burned Dean’s face. Pulling at his collar
did little for his tight throat. Staring at the man, Dean ground his jaw and
nodded. “Yes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Do you mind if I ask why?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The reaction jumped from his mouth. “Because I can’t
get a job, can I?” <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Jesus, pal. It’s not
fucking rocket science.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The door to the office was behind the interviewer, and
Dean stared through its porthole window. There were several women in the
adjoining office taking turns glancing in at him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">When he looked back, the man’s eyes and mouth were
spread in wide Os.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Letting the tension fall from his shoulders, Dean
raised his hand. “I’m sorry.” Coughing cleared the wobble that threatened to
ride his words. “It’s just… I’ve been through this process so many times.” He
looked down and picked a flake of wood away from the desk. The top may have
been polished, but the edges looked like they’d taken a battering. “I want a
job, which is why I’ve come to so many interviews. But it’s a bit of a kick in
the teeth always being told no. It’s not like I’m trying to become the fucking
prime minister or anything.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The man flinched when Dean swore.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“I know I didn’t finish school, so my CV looks like
shit, but if no one will give me the chance, how can I prove myself? Besides,
they’re only crappy jobs.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“You think <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">this</i>
is a crappy job?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“It’s Biffa. Not NASA.” Dropping his right hand
beneath the desk so the man couldn’t see it, Dean clenched his fist so tightly
his arm shook. The fury put a shimmer in his voice. “I mean, it’s only picking
up bin bags.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Straightening in his seat, the interviewer stared at
the part of his desk that had been ever so slightly vandalised and pushed his
round glasses up his button nose. “This job is actually quite hard, Mr Brown.
Physically demanding. Early mornings, etc.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“You saying I ain’t got the strength to lift bin
bags?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Showing Dean his palms, the man said, “Firstly, you
need to calm down.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">A heavy frown crushed Dean’s view.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Also, I’m not saying that at all. I’m sure you have
the strength, Dean, but can you get up in the mornings? Can you handle having a
boss tell you what to do?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“I can,” Dean’s lip lifted in a snarl, “as long as the
cunt don’t mug me off.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Glancing at the round clock on the wall, the man
sighed and said, “Right, we’re going to run through some scenarios. Is that
okay?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The tension fell from his back and Dean stared down as
he ran his finger in circles on the desk. “Fire away, chief.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The man straightened his papers. “Okay, it’s three in
the afternoon, and your shift is due to finish. However, it’s been a long day
and you still have another hour’s worth of work to do. Do you, A—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“I’ll stop you there, pal.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The interviewer paused.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“I’ll do whatever extra hours you need me to do. As
long as it’s on the overtime sheet, that is. I’m not one of those people that
work for nothing. If you have too much work and not enough staff, that’s your
problem. But keep filling my bank account, and I’ll work like the fucking
Energizer Bunny.” Dean’s throaty laugh bounced around the room.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The man kept his eyes lowered. “It’s the night before
your day off, and you get a phone call asking you to work. What do you do?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“It depends what I have planned for my day off. If I
can change it, I’ll do that and come into work.” Laughing again, he added, “As
long as it ain’t winter. Who wants to get out of bed in February?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Putting the paper down, the man closed his folder.
“Thank you, Mr Brown. We’ll be in touch.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Dean’s jaw fell. “That was a joke, man.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“That’s fine. We’re done with the interview though.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“But there are more questions there.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Um…” the man paused. “There are, but we don’t always
ask them all.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Why don’t you just tell me now that I haven’t got the
fucking job? I’m a big boy—I can handle it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“To tell you the result of the interview now would be
unprofessional and against company policy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The deep breath did nothing to still Dean’s rampaging
pulse. “Unprofessional my arse. You just haven’t got the stones for it, pal.
Telling a man to his face that he doesn’t have the job ain’t unprofessional;
that’s the excuse of a coward.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The man stood up. His round belly pushing against the
buttons on his shirt. “Thank you, Mr Brown. We’ll be in touch.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Remaining in his seat, Dean stared up at the man. One
well-timed jab on the chin would knock the cunt sparko. “I’m not going anywhere
until you tell me straight. Have I got the job or not?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The man lifted the phone on the table. It was an old
rotary phone—maybe he thought he was retro. Sticking his finger into the hole
for the number nine, he spun the dial. “I’m going to call the police unless you
leave now, Mr Brown. I will not be held to ransom in my own office.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Standing up so quickly his chair scooted out behind
him and fell over with a loud crash, Dean stared at the man. After a few
seconds, he left the room and slammed the door on his way out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The revolving doors ushered him into the warm, stale room.
The hot choking smell of old photocopiers caught in his throat. Walking over to
Martha’s desk, Dean sat down.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The pad of Post-its she was scribbling a note on were
small suns. They were yellow, circular and had happy faces printed on them.
Smiling, Martha asked, “So, how did it go?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Dean looked around. “This room stinks of piss and
desperation. I ain’t like these mugs in here, you know.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“What do you mean?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Take a look around you. The carpet’s filthy, the job
boards are emptier than a Tory’s heart, and half of the people in here look
like they’d struggle to spell their own fucking name. This is a place for
alcoholics and losers.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“And the unemployed,” Martha reminded him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Turning away, Dean caught the eye of a man at the desk
next to him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Clenching his fists, Dean tilted his head to the side.
“What the fuck are you looking at, pal?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">After holding his glare for a second, the man then
looked away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Too fucking
right!</span></i><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“This place is full of arseholes.” Dean sipped his
lukewarm coffee and screwed his face up at the muddy taste. Lifting the round
Styrofoam cup, he said, “When are you going to stop serving this instant shit?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“This isn’t a coffee shop, Dean. Anyway, the man said
you swore at him in the interview. He said you were openly hostile.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Like fuck! We were having a bit of banter. A joke
about overtime. Okay, maybe I did swear, but the rest of it was all good fun.
Until he asked me to leave.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Do you even want a job, Dean?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Of course I want a fucking job! When those
Conservative arseholes get into power, I won’t have a pot to piss in. Why do
you think I’m going to so many fucking interviews? But if no one will give me a
fucking chance…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“You’ve got to stop swearing for a start.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Don’t fucking tell me what to do!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Martha’s jolly face turned stony. Pointing a wrinkled
finger at him, she said, “I’ve been doing this job for thirty years, son. I
think I’m qualified to tell you what to do. You need to stop swearing in
interviews, and you need to tone the aggression down. Otherwise, you’re never
going to get a job.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Returning the gesture, Dean pointed his finger back at
Martha. “You’re sending me to a bunch of shitty job interviews and telling me
to jump through hoops. I’m doing that, but I’m still getting told to fuck off.
Do you realise how fucking demoralising it is for me to be rejected so many
fucking times? To repeat the process knowing I’ll just get turned away again. I
know what’s on the horizon—we all do. It’s a political party that want to force
us out to work by fucking us up the arse. I ain’t afraid of work, but what do
we do when we can’t get a fucking job because no one will employ us? It’s a
vicious circle. Give me a job, and I’ll fucking do it. I’ll go every day.”
After a heavy exhalation, he said, “I’m fed up of being mugged off by clueless
twats who think they know how to run a fucking country.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Sighing, Martha said, “Dean, you’re the only person
that can get yourself a job, but you have to work on your interview technique.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 120%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt 180.0pt 216.0pt; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“I’m trying, Martha. But where do I start? There’s no
fucking funding and every job has over a thousand applicants. I’m climbing a
greasy fucking pole here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Spinning the wedding ring on her finger, Martha then
flicked through her Rolodex and removed an index card. “Here. The council are
looking for litter pickers in the town. They have an open day tomorrow.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Looking at the card wobbling at the end of Martha’s
outstretched arm, her bangles hanging down, Dean snatched it away. “Here we
fucking go again. See you next fucking week for some more shitty coffee and
another fucking lecture.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Exiting via the revolving door, Dean crossed the
street without looking and was ushered across by a cacophony of horns. Flipping
the bird in the general direction of the noise, he entered the local pub.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Frank, the bartender, lifted his head. “The usual,
Dean?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<b></b>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 120%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Sitting on the round stool, Dean nodded. “The usual,” he
said as he slid the coins across the bar.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07902533927814790513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2469945153735333893.post-17644709981222717202013-10-06T23:22:00.001-07:002013-10-06T23:24:24.349-07:00Results for Kindle Nation Daily AdSo having recently spent $99 on a Kindle Daily Deal ad on Kindle Nation Daily, I thought I'd report back my results from it.<br />
<br />
I must say that my book only had five reviews on Amazon.com when I placed the ad, and three of them were two stars, so I'm sure if it was reviewed better then it would have sold more.<br />
<br />
The picture below is from Amazon.com - The spike in sales is due to the ad. I was averaging 3 sales a week on the .com site, and because of the ad, that went up to 34. The profit on $0.99 is about $0.35 per book.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zbIkhnHhbVA/UlJQWLlnCPI/AAAAAAAAAiE/czhp0gQMmnU/s1600/photo.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zbIkhnHhbVA/UlJQWLlnCPI/AAAAAAAAAiE/czhp0gQMmnU/s400/photo.PNG" width="400" /></a></div>
The next picture is for Amazon.co.uk (where my reviews are much stronger) - I sold less on the UK site the week the ad was out than I had the previous week - 88 sales as opposed to 113. Having been in the top 10 for post-apocalyptic on the UK site, I was getting good sales anyway. Is it fair to assume it had no impact? I'm not sure, but it certainly didn't seem to.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nniLdaUiau8/UlJQ92IUOZI/AAAAAAAAAiM/Mzgj0mvUI3A/s1600/photoUK.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nniLdaUiau8/UlJQ92IUOZI/AAAAAAAAAiM/Mzgj0mvUI3A/s400/photoUK.PNG" width="400" /></a></div>
I appreciate that many factors impact the sales of a book and I'm sure my reviews on the .com site didn't help. However, all I can do is present the information as I've experienced it.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07902533927814790513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2469945153735333893.post-20712886522414181252013-09-23T00:18:00.000-07:002013-09-23T00:18:13.139-07:00601 Sales - How Will A Kindle Nation Daily Ad Affect My Sales? I saw 500 sales as a big milestone and should have written this post then. But now I'm at 601, so I thought I'd report how the sales have been going.<br />
<br />
I have an advert with Kindle Nation Daily due out at the end of this week (27th September). I've opted for the Kindle Daily Deal at $99. My sales are pretty poor in the US so I'm hoping this advert will give a boost to them. To break even at my current sale price, I need about 250 sales.<br />
<br />
<h3>
Visibility</h3>
It seems to me that visibility is the most important thing with Amazon. I talk about Amazon because I've had three sales on Kobo and none anywhere else.<br />
<br />
From release, <a href="http://michaelrobertson.co.uk/crash---available-now.html">Crash</a> has been in the top 50 for post apocalyptic Kindle books. This seemed to help the book tick along nicely and was generating sales of one or two copies a day. Halfway through August I dropped my price to $0.99 and £0.99. You can see the impact below on my sales figures and visibility. I've been in the top 10 post apocalyptic kindle charts and the top 50 for horror overall for about a month now. This extra visibility has coincided with a huge leap in figures. Although I have to sell lots more copies to make the same money, that's currently happening. So my book is being seen by more people and I'm making more money. I don't plan on keeping my price this low forever, but while the sales are good, I'll leave it as it is.<br />
<br />
This screenshot was taken this morning (this is relatively low for my average):<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lioul195Tdw/Uj_nS0LZy9I/AAAAAAAAAfo/VK1PIcj9mgw/s1600/Charts.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lioul195Tdw/Uj_nS0LZy9I/AAAAAAAAAfo/VK1PIcj9mgw/s320/Charts.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
My highest rank for each category has been 6 for post apocalyptic, 23 for kindle horror and 30 for horror overall. This is on the UK site. </div>
<br />
I also wanted to report a detailed breakdown of my sales figures because I've not done that yet - August was when I dropped my price. I decided to drop my price while I already had some chart visibility. I could see Crash slipping out of the charts and I hoped it would give sales a boost.<br />
<h3>
June</h3>
<div>
I released my book towards the end of June.</div>
<div>
UK site - 16 copies sold.</div>
<div>
US site - 13 copies sold.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<h3>
July</h3>
<div>
UK site - 35 copies sold.</div>
<div>
US site - 28 copies sold. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<h3>
August </h3>
<div>
UK site - 154 copies sold.</div>
<div>
US site - 24 copies sold. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<h3>
September (so far)</h3>
<div>
UK site - 314 copies sold<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n4wzTGgmq-Q/Uj_o96gSOdI/AAAAAAAAAf0/FlgNEqZfCOo/s1600/UK+site.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n4wzTGgmq-Q/Uj_o96gSOdI/AAAAAAAAAf0/FlgNEqZfCOo/s320/UK+site.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
US site - 14 copies sold</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AHImFzLvLjI/Uj_pHv-xElI/AAAAAAAAAf8/KrTahtj_4_I/s1600/US+site.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AHImFzLvLjI/Uj_pHv-xElI/AAAAAAAAAf8/KrTahtj_4_I/s320/US+site.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<h3>
Reviews</h3>
<div>
I've never had the chart visibility in the US and my average reviews aren't enough to get me much attention. I assume this is why my sales on Amazon.com aren't great. </div>
<h3>
Next Blog Post</h3>
</div>
<div>
In my next blog post I want to show the figures after a Kindle Nation Daily ad to see if it was worth the $99. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07902533927814790513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2469945153735333893.post-10144642301959693482013-09-12T22:03:00.000-07:002013-09-12T22:16:35.902-07:00Nearly Three Months as a Self-Published Author - Sales Figures IncludedSo it's coming up to three months now as a self published author and I thought I'd continue to track my progress.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-snT-Trt6i_Q/UjKandl2ZkI/AAAAAAAAAes/DDrLwmP2ubg/s1600/green-business-graph1=blocks+green+tick.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-snT-Trt6i_Q/UjKandl2ZkI/AAAAAAAAAes/DDrLwmP2ubg/s320/green-business-graph1=blocks+green+tick.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I've made a few changes in the past few weeks that have massively affected my sales figures.<br />
<br />
<h3>
Categories</h3>
After watching my book get into the top thirty on the Post Apocalyptic and Dystopian charts on Amazon, I realised that the categories were so close I should probably change one of them. I figured that I'd be catching a lot of the same audience with those categories, so I changed Dystopian, because I was scoring slightly lower in this one, and moved it over to horror.<br />
<br />
<h3>
Price</h3>
<br />
I also noticed that my sales had started to plateau. I decided that I want my first book read, and while I'm not prepared to drop it to free, I dropped it to $0.99. This made a huge difference. My sales figures took off. I've made more money than before over the past few weeks and my book is reaching a lot more people. In the past two weeks, I've sold over 100 copies each week.<br />
<br />
I've obsessively watched my book climb into the top ten and it's into its third week and it's still there. My peak was chart position no.6. I'm currently at no.9 on Post Apocalyptic (Amazon UK).<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SFfVv9peS9g/UjKfosWPR0I/AAAAAAAAAe8/hBA6XKjM55Y/s1600/photo.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SFfVv9peS9g/UjKfosWPR0I/AAAAAAAAAe8/hBA6XKjM55Y/s320/photo.PNG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<h3>
Negative Reviews</h3>
<br />
This is predominantly UK sales. I've had a few negative reviews on Amazon.com that have almost ground my sales to a halt. I've written a very violent book so I'm not surprised that it's polarised opinion. Despite the negative reviews, I have been contacted by readers to say they enjoyed the book and can't wait for more.<br />
<br />
I also did something I thought I'd never do this week. I responded to negative criticism. I've had several negative reviews and most of them have been the reviewers opinion. For me, it's fine if someone doesn't like the book. Everyone sees the world through their own lens and enjoyment of a work is entirely subjective. However, I received this review from one person:-<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">As I understand it, there should be a plot and a theme to a novel. This book had none and was also lacking in depth, meaning or reason. I get the impression that the author just wanted to get feedback (any feedback) to try and get his book spoken about...if that was the reason for it, then well done! If it was to write something worthwhile, then I feel this failed totally. Not an enjoyable read.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">To which I responded:-</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;">Thanks for reading my book and leaving your thoughts. I don't normally reply to reviews because everyone sees the world through their own lens and enjoyment is a subjective thing. It's not my place to tell people they are wrong or to defend my ego. </span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;">However, on this review you have asked if there is a point to this book so I wanted to take the time to explain why I've written it. </span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;">This book is about the social construction that is money and how insubstantial it is. The only value it has is what we attribute to it as a society and it could easily become worthless. </span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;">It's a look at how the poorest in UK society are being punished and blamed by the contemporary media for the state of things at present. Labels like 'Good hardworking families' are banded about as if those who can't be measured by their financial contribution are worthless. It takes this venom and turns it around on those they perceive to be the ones laying blame. Although the main looter, Dean, is a psychopath using a cause to vent his violent tendencies - Much like some of the EDL members have been doing of late and other hate groups. </span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;">It's also a look at how class identity isn't a reflection of those within the class, more a group identity that is based on judgments and prejudices - from both sides. It doesn't reflect the individual, yet sweeping generalisations are made. Those being punished - Like Michael - don't deserve it, but we live in a polarised society where these judgments are made. </span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;">Finally, the level of violence is a look at developing countries, such as The Democratic Republic of Congo, and the atrocities happening there on a daily basis (while I accept this book is very dark, I couldn't go as far as what's actually happening in places like the DRC). It's a look at how low humans can go when there is a motivation to control and dominate - as many wars have demonstrated. (See the UK and US bombing of Dresden as an example). In The DRC's case it's for minerals. In Crash's case, it's for food. </span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;">Again, I can't speak to whether you enjoyed the book or not but I'm thankful that you read it and took the time to review it. You asked the question, so I wanted to give you the answer.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;">Thanks again</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;">Michael</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;">Should I have responded? I don't know. It's not something I plan to make a habit of. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span>
<br />
<h2>
Sales Figures so Far - Since June 20th:-</h2>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;">Amazon - 446 copies sold. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;">Kobo - 3 copies sold.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;">Smashwords - 0 copies sold.</span><br />
<br />
I'm pleased with my figures for less than three months. The negative reviews sting but I'm developing a thick skin pretty quickly. Again, I expected it with this book. My next one is much less violent, so it'll be interesting to see if it generates the same reaction.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07902533927814790513noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2469945153735333893.post-54737397938656283262013-08-21T14:53:00.000-07:002013-08-21T14:53:30.759-07:00My Second Month as a Self-published Author - Sales Figures Included<br />
<div style="font-family: Cochin; font-size: 14px; text-indent: 18px;">
It’s been two months since I released my first novella, <a href="http://michaelrobertson.co.uk/crash---available-now.html">Crash</a>, as an ebook. Here is my experience so far. </div>
<div style="font-family: Cochin; font-size: 14px; min-height: 17px; text-indent: 18px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Cochin; font-size: 14px; text-indent: 18px;">
<b>Obsessed!</b></div>
<div style="font-family: Cochin; font-size: 14px; text-indent: 18px;">
So I’m still checking my sales figures more frequently than is healthy. I wonder if that will ever change. </div>
<div style="font-family: Cochin; font-size: 14px; min-height: 17px; text-indent: 18px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Cochin; font-size: 14px; text-indent: 18px;">
<b>Reviews</b></div>
<div style="font-family: Cochin; font-size: 14px; text-indent: 18px;">
I’ve only had one one-star review still but I have had three two-star reviews on <a href="http://amazon.com/">Amazon.com</a> My most recent two-star review came a week or so back and that’s really affected my sales on <a href="http://amazon.com/">Amazon.com</a>. Fortunately my novella is doing much better on the other side of the pond. I currently have thirteen reviews and ten of them are five-star. As a result, my book is selling much better in the UK. </div>
<div style="font-family: Cochin; font-size: 14px; min-height: 17px; text-indent: 18px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Cochin; font-size: 14px; text-indent: 18px;">
<b>Amazon Top One Hundred Charts</b></div>
<div style="font-family: Cochin; font-size: 14px; text-indent: 18px;">
Since its release, Crash has consistently been in the top one hundred post-apocalyptic novels. It has fallen out on a couple of occasions but it hit an all time high at number twenty today. </div>
<div style="font-family: Cochin; font-size: 14px; min-height: 17px; text-indent: 18px;">
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cMNC4oiT6B4/UhU1970eEkI/AAAAAAAAAaM/Q-emcVZ70e0/s1600/1097640_10151852492366458_1544336839_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cMNC4oiT6B4/UhU1970eEkI/AAAAAAAAAaM/Q-emcVZ70e0/s320/1097640_10151852492366458_1544336839_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b>Sales</b></div>
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I was happy with my sales for about the first six weeks and then they started to slip. It’s hard to know why, but the most recent negative review seems to have had an impact in the US. So what I decided to do was drop the price to $.99 to see if it affected sales. Yesterday I sold twelve copies in one day. Most of those were in the UK. The sale price is until the beginning of September, although if it goes really well I may extend that. I’m not aiming to make money on my first book, I just want to get it in the hands of readers and remain visible on Amazon. When my second and third books in the series come out, I intend to make this book permanently free. </div>
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<b>Figures</b></div>
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While I like Kobo’s ethos and a great review came from a Kobo reader, I have only had three sales on Kobo in six weeks. I’ve had one hundred and fifty-three sales on Amazon. I’ve had nothing on Smashwords and they were a pain to get the formatting correct for. </div>
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<b>Overall</b></div>
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So since the first month I’ve hit the milestones of one hundred and one hundred and fifty copies sold. I’ve experimented with price and seen a marked difference when I drop it. I’ve had Amazon’s dominance confirmed to me, and I’ve developed a thicker skin while learning how I can become a better writer. I’m pleased with my sales so far, although I’ve been warned that books fall off a cliff at some point. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07902533927814790513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2469945153735333893.post-58438271522437408512013-07-25T12:23:00.000-07:002013-07-25T12:23:08.389-07:00My First Month as a Self-Published Author (Sales Figures Included).<br />
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I published my debut novella <a href="http://michaelrobertson.co.uk/crash---available-now.html">CRASH</a> on the 20<span style="font-size: 9px;"><sup>th</sup></span> June 2013. I have high hopes for a career in self-publishing based on what I’ve seen to be a successful publishing model. It seems that the main advice for being successful is to - 1) Write good books. 2) Keep writing. 3) Don’t spend too much time promoting your first book because you don’t have any more work to sell. </div>
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I’ll be honest, I’m still at the point where I check my sales figures obsessively. I’ve opted to put my first book on all platforms because I’m yet to have anything to lead readers onto. I see giving my book away at the moment as a waste of time, but I do wonder if I’m missing out on the Kindle lending library downloads. (Does anyone have any experience of this?) Once I have the second book in the series, I will put my book on hold with everyone but Amazon and register it in KDP select. I will then start using one book to generate sales for the other. </div>
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<b>First Month Sales Figures</b></div>
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So here are my sales figures as of today - Amazon = 76 copies. Smashwords = A few sample downloads and one addition to a library. Kobo = 1 copy (which was today).</div>
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It would seem that not only was Amazon the easiest place to upload my book to (I still haven’t got in the Smashword’s premium catalogue - Grr!), but they are responsible for all but one of my sales. Today is the first day - so far - that I haven’t sold a copy on Amazon (although I do keep checking). </div>
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I’m happy with the figures. It’s more than I expected with just one book uploaded. It’s paid for the cover and some of the edit and I realise that sales will be something that will come down the road when I have more books to sell. My second novella is with an editor at present and the third one isn’t far behind. </div>
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<b>Reviews</b></div>
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I’ve had generally positive reviews and I’m trying to get more by giving a few copies away to review sites and readers who are willing to review. </div>
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My first negative review hit me quite hard, but now the book has been out there for over a month, I already feel much more thick-skinned about it. If a negative review is helpful then I will take everything I can from it. If it isn’t, then it’s personal taste and there’s nothing I can do about that. I’ve had plenty of positive reviews and feel happy with how my book has been received. </div>
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<b>Overall Experience of Self-Publishing</b></div>
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<b></b><br /></div>
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I’ve already had highs and lows in my first month but I’ve stayed focused on the plan - Get a series out in the world and then make people aware of it. I feel much braver about the whole process now I’ve made the first move and I’ve earned more money this month than in my entire writing career. </div>
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Onwards and upwards. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07902533927814790513noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2469945153735333893.post-49475270362839739112013-07-04T11:55:00.000-07:002013-07-04T11:55:10.190-07:00Crash - A Sample (Chapter One)This is a sample chapter (chapter one) of my debut novella - <a href="http://michaelrobertson.co.uk/crash---available-now.html">CRASH</a> - I hope you like it.<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">And Finally, It Begins…<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">No matter how old
Michael got, when he cried in Chris’ arms, he became that red-faced screaming
baby in the delivery ward again, and Chris’ instinct to protect him burned as
brightly as it ever had.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Shivering by the slightly
ajar window, the heating having been cut off months before, the eight-year-old
boy looked at his father. He wore a mask of grief that twisted his dirty face.
“Why, Dad?” He mewled. “Why did they do it? Why did they leave us?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">After running a hand
through his thick and, at forty-two, prematurely white hair, Chris pulled his
son closer, not only to comfort Michael but also himself. “I don’t know why
your mum chose to leave with your sister. Things are quite a mess at the
moment, and maybe she was worried that they wouldn’t get any better.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Big innocent blue eyes
stared up at Chris, searching for the truth as the boy asked, “But things will
get better, won’t they? They have to.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Chris swallowed and
looked around the room. They were in the guest bedroom. They’d chosen it
because it was small and therefore easier to keep warm. With no gas and
electricity, they had to resort to smothering themselves with as much bedding
and blankets as they could find. They had so many dirty sheets on the floor
that it was impossible to see the blue carpet beneath. The thick red velvet
curtains were permanently drawn to combat the chill emanating from the windows,
but they blocked out most of the light, making the gloomy room a breeding
ground for depression. The entire wardrobe of each family member sat in the
corner in one huge pile like a compost heap. When Chris drew a deep breath that
reeked of mildew, he told his son what he believed to be a lie. “Yes, Michael,
they will.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“What if they don’t?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Chris knew that Michael
could see straight through him. He’d have given every drop of blood and his
final breath to give his son a guarantee that things would get better. But he
couldn’t. They currently existed in a world without precedent. Life was now a
desperate struggle. Looking at the small, dirty boy in his arms, he had to
swallow the lump rising in his throat and blink away his tears. “All I can
really promise you…” he coughed to clear his throat, “…is that I will do my
best to look after you. I will do everything in my power to…” Before he could
finish, a loud crash exploded outside.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">In the past, Chris would
have rushed to the window if he’d heard such a disturbance. Now he was much
more cautious because ‘get off my land’ didn’t quite cut it anymore. He pulled
the curtain back slightly and peered out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The cold breeze hit him,
and he flinched. Although it was winter, they left the window slightly ajar to
try and let the smell of four dirty bodies out of their living space. As a
result, there was more ice on the inside of the glass than the outside.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Their home was one of
six large and detached red brick houses in a gated community. The houses
horseshoed around a road that was wide enough to u-turn a bus in. Even looking
at it now, with the overturned bins and abandoned toys, Chris could still see
Michael and Matilda playing outside with their friends. The gates were made of
iron, painted black, and did an effective job of keeping people out when
everyone was living under the previous, if tenuously balanced, capitalist
society. Back then, a gate meant keep out and was effective at enforcing its
will. Things were different now. All that was left of the old social structures
were memories. New rules were being established, and to survive you had to
evolve. Failure to do so invariably resulted in death. With this in mind,
Chris’ plan to hide away like a scared fox in a hole didn’t seem like such a
good idea. Especially now the hounds had arrived.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“What is it?” Michael
asked as he stood on tiptoes to peer through a gap in the heavy curtain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">A black and battered
Ford F-150 had rolled through the gates. In spite of the superficial damage, it
still looked relatively new. Chris assumed the huge truck must have been taken
from the forecourt no more than six months ago because the angry and pockmarked
paintwork showed no signs of rust. It didn’t have licence plates, so he
couldn’t be one hundred percent sure of its age, but he felt like it was a good
hunch. He wondered for a moment where in London one would get such a car until
he remembered the American car importer a few miles south. He assumed the
driver was local.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">A huge battering ram
protruded from the front that looked like a steel pillar of about six feet long
by four feet in diameter. It gave the truck a fierce nose that looked like it
had been utilised many times. Its effectiveness was clear to see because the
black gate that had once provided the family with such a strong sense of
security had been cast aside like it was made out of cardboard. It now lay
useless and mangled like a barely identifiable body part of someone who’d
stepped on a landmine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">There were seven men in
the back of the truck. They were filthy and bulked up with layers of clothes to
combat the January chill. The youngest, Chris guessed, was in his mid-twenties,
the oldest no older than fifty.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Chris looked at their
weapons and saw steel bars with spikes, baseball bats wrapped in razor wire,
long knives and swords, and even a tennis racket that looked like the edges had
been sharpened to be as keen as the deadliest blade. Each weapon, without
exception, looked like they could end a life with great efficiency. From
looking at the fierce men with their deep frowns and blood-splattered clothes,
Chris had no doubt that they already had.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">He finally replied to
his son in hushed tones, the fear of these men discovering them clinging to him
like frostbite. “They look like looters.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">After weaving into the
middle of the cul-de-sac, the truck finally came to a halt, and the men on the
back vaulted off, weapons raised and ready for action. While grinding his jaw,
a habit Chris was only ever aware of when a headache kicked in, he said, “We
need to be very careful around these men. They’re dangerous. Very fucking
dangerous.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The childish innocence
in Michael’s wide blue eyes showed how he was more shocked by his dad swearing
than the fact that looters were outside their house. He then said, “What do we
do, Dad?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">After a pause, Chris
said, “We wait, son.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The cab door opened and
out stepped a slim man with black hair and a red face. He looked like he was in
his mid to late thirties. His angry skin appeared to writhe like his body was a
prison of rage—a prison where the ratio of guards to inmates was stretched so
thin that chaos could erupt at any moment. The blue suit he wore had crusty
patches of what Chris could only assume was dried blood. It was as stiff as
wood. In his hand was a sawn-off shotgun. It was clear to see that he was the
leader. Chris could only see dark shadows where his eyes should be, and the man
reminded Chris of a shark.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">One of the men from the
back of the truck, a short and lithe, red-haired weasel of a man who had the
razor sharp tennis racket, called to the leader, “Dean, which house first?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">It seemed that even this
question annoyed the tetchy man, who, without saying a word, pointed the barrel
of his gun at number one in the close.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Chris only remembered
that Michael was watching too when he said, “That’s Tommy’s house.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Gathering his son in his
arms, Chris told his next lie. “Don’t worry, Michael, Tommy will be okay.” What
else could he tell him?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The roar of another
diesel engine hailed the arrival of a second Ford F-150. This one was blue and
had a cage on the back that was full to bursting with enough food to feed a
small army, which is exactly what they were. It was mostly packets of dried
food and tins, but there was a live pig tied up and stacked like all of the
other objects in the congested cage. It looked exhausted, and even if it wasn’t
bound as tightly as it was, Chris thought that it would have still been as inactive.
It stared ahead with its tongue lolling from its mouth like it was dying of
thirst.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">When the truck stopped,
two more men emerged. One was a slight, dark-skinned man in a trench coat that
looked like he should be on the early train to the city rather than with this
collection of thieves and murderers. The driver was a huge black man who was at
least six feet and four inches and was dressed in blue jeans, thick boots and a
heavy sheepskin jacket. He was built like a heavyweight boxer and dressed like
he was delivering a skip. He walked around the truck, his breath visible in the
cold January air, and shook the cage at random points.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The leader, who seemed
to respect this man more than the last one he’d spoken to, asked, “Everything
okay, George?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Chris thought he saw
disdain in the hulking man’s eyes when he looked over, but it was hard to tell
from this distance. He didn’t seem to share the other’s excitement for what
they were about to do. His large face had soft features that suggested he had a
compassion that was contrary to the hive mind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Everything’s fine,” he
called back. “I just wanted to check that nothing’s worked its way free on the
journey.” His kind eyes gazed at the pig while he stroked it, and his mouth
moved as he spoke to the animal. Chris couldn’t hear what he was saying.
Raising his voice, he then said, “We hit a few potholes on the way in. You know
what these fucking roads are like now.” He then pulled his coat tight against
himself and shivered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Michael looked up and
whispered, “They have a lot of food.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Chris nodded. “They do,
son.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Do you think they’ll
leave us some if they come into our house?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">He put his hand on
Michael’s little head and said, “I hope so.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Wishing he’d made his
son come away from the window before the third truck pulled in, Chris nearly
vomited from what he saw.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Staring at a blue truck,
identical to the second, Michael’s innocent face fell slack. Pulling his blonde
fringe from his eyes as if un-obscuring his view would show him a different
reality to the one unfolding outside, he said, “What’s that truck for, Dad?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Like the second truck,
this one also had a cage welded to the back. The cage was about the same size
as the other one, but instead of being loaded with food, it was full to
bursting with women. They were pressed against the bars like battery hens, and
they shuffled in the cramped space like veal in crates. Deciding it was time to
be more honest with his son because their survival would likely hinge on his
cooperation, Chris said, “It’s for keeping women.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Their women?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Finding the scene
outside too upsetting, Chris looked at his son and brushed his fine hair from
his wide eyes. “I don’t think so; I think they’ve stolen them and taken them as
slaves. It would appear that they’re looting for women and girls as well as
food.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Although Michael only
said, “Oh,” his little face looked like he was trying to comprehend the fact.
“Why would they steal women?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Because they’re bad
men.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Sounding hopeful,
Michael said, “Do you think Mum and Matilda are in there? Maybe we could steal
them back?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Another truth that Chris
had chosen to withhold from his son was the whereabouts of his mother and
sister, but now wasn’t the time to reveal it. Looking out of the window again,
pretending to scan the dirty and broken faces in the cage on the back of the
third truck, Chris said, “I can’t see them.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Hmmm,” Michael said
thoughtfully, and then added, “Do you think they’ll leave my chocolate? I’ve
been careful to make that lasts as long as possible. I’ve sucked just one
square every night.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Blinking the tears from
his eyes, Chris pulled his son’s ration-emaciated body tightly to him. Like
everything else in the house, Michael smelt of mould. Chris shivered as he
said, “Maybe.” Clearing his throat quietly, he repeated, “Maybe. What we need
to accept is that they will take whatever they want, and there are too many of
them for us to argue.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Michael said another,
“Hmmm.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Chris scanned the room
again. With no television, no electricity, no gas and no physical energy
because of their poor diet, the life they’d chosen beneath the bedclothes had
seemed to be the most sensible option at the time. Chris didn’t see what moving
would achieve, especially as the open road stank of human waste because of
overflowing sewers. The life he’d chosen for them had seemed sustainable. Or
rather, it had until now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Looking again at the
truck with the women, Michael said, “What do you think they do with the little
boys? Will they take Tommy prisoner? Will they take me prisoner?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Looking at the leader
and his blood-encrusted suit, Chris swallowed back the bilious burn rising in
his throat and tried to speak, but his face buckled out of control.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Michael, who was staring
at what was happening outside with his jaw hanging limp, didn’t notice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Drawing a thick and
stuttered breath, Chris said. “I don’t think they will. I don’t think they make
little boys prisoners.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Thank God,” Michael
said with relief.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Looking away again,
Chris blinked as a solitary tear ran down his cheek. He felt like a fool for
not seeing this coming from a mile off because the signs had been there months
before. He thought about the conversation he’d had with his boss just over a
year ago.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07902533927814790513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2469945153735333893.post-17411569198703322212013-07-01T13:41:00.002-07:002013-07-01T13:41:37.765-07:00How I Tackle Procrastination as a Writer<br />
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<h3>
Pain and Pleasure</h3>
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Anthony Robbins says that people are motivated by pain and pleasure. We seek one and avoid the other. Our drive to avoid pain is generally stronger than our drive to gain pleasure. </div>
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I have been terrible in the past with procrastination. Facebook is one of the biggest culprits and I have found myself refreshing it so I get one newsfeed at a time. I know, it's sad, but anything to avoid the pain of writing. Now to call writing painful is more to use the pleasure/pain terminology. What I mean by pain is an expending of mental and emotional energy. Sometimes I find writing, or even just the process of it intimidating. </div>
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To get out of the procrastination slump, what I do is find a greater pain that will result from me not doing the writing. For example, I'll be sat here in five years from now still refreshing Facebook or whichever social media site is prevalent at the time. I'll still be working twelve hour days still and trying to turn my passion into my career. It's quite a simple technique, but it works for me.</div>
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Timing Procrastination </h3>
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I have now decided that I will have my timer ready on my phone and start it when I start to procrastinate. I'll stop it when I've finished and add it up for a week. I reckon that seeing an amount of time that I've wasted and thinking about what I could have done in that time will help me become more disciplined. </div>
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Surrounding Yourself With People That are Prolific</h3>
While I appreciate it may be hard to find prolific writers in your neighbourhood, we live in an age where there are so many ways of connecting with people that it's easy enough to find prolific authors. My favourite podcast at present is The <a href="http://selfpublishingpodcast.com/">Self Publishing Podcast</a> Dave, Sean, and Johnny are releasing a book per week of serialised fiction and generating a huge catalog of work. Sean and Dave are making a full time profession from it and I believe Johnny is pretty much there too. I feel left behind when I listen to these guys and that's a great motivator. They also offer amazing self-publishing advice.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.awritingretreatportugal.com/">Writing retreats</a> can also help inspire. To surround yourself with other writers and take yourself away from daily chores can be massively beneficial. <br />
<br />
I am also a member of a <a href="http://www.tunbridgewellswriterscircle.co.uk/">writers' circle</a> that I meet with on a monthly basis. I always walk away from our meeting energised. Maybe one day I'll feel brave enough to read my work out too. <br />
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I hope these tips help.<br />
<br />
Thanks for reading.<br />
<br />
Michael Robertson.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://michaelrobertson.co.uk/crash---available-now.html">My debut novel Crash is available now</a><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07902533927814790513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2469945153735333893.post-71802869917354139982013-06-27T12:38:00.002-07:002013-06-27T12:39:54.763-07:00If You Write a Controversial Book - You're Going to Get Hate<br />
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I told myself this before I pressed ‘publish’ on Amazon and it’s taken all of five days for someone to offer their opinion on my mental health. Here’s my one star review: <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/review/R3F5GF3KXNUYQT/ref=cm_cr_pr_viewpnt#R3F5GF3KXNUYQT%C2%A0">One star review of Crash</a></div>
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So how do I react to this? I’m human so it’s never nice to receive a personal attack, however, I was expecting it because my book is hard hitting. I have a really great group of friends that I play poker with. A lot of our humour revolves around how horrible we are to each other. We’re guys, what can I say. With that in mind, I thought I’d open myself up to the abuse of my peers and send a group message with the review. It took a while, but the abuse eventually came flooding in. What else can I do but laugh at it? </div>
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In all seriousness I feel thankful that my work has made an impact. This person interpreted it as negative, but I’m glad to leave an impression either way. After all, a review is only a reflection of the reviewers view on the world and I can’t be responsible for that. I'd love millions of five star reviews but that isn't going to happen. </div>
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I thought I would write this blog about it because this is my debut work and it’s a milestone. I’m sure it won’t be the last.</div>
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Does anyone have any opinions on how to deal with haters?</div>
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Michael Robertson (Author of Crash)</div>
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www.michaelrobertson.co.uk </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07902533927814790513noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2469945153735333893.post-68777245158632536662013-04-03T13:39:00.001-07:002013-04-03T13:41:25.021-07:00Revolution - Episode OneSo having just watched Revolution, episode one, I thought I'd post my thoughts.<br />
<br />
The acting - Maybe it was the wooden script and weak plot, but I didn't feel compelled to care about any of the characters. They all seemed to be stereotypes - The tough girl, the fighting uncle, the computer geek who used to work for, you guessed it - Google, the spunky brother, and the wicked step mother who seems to be handy with a knife and not so wicked after all - Aw shucks.<br />
<br />
The concept - This concept is good. Electricity fails, a few people knew why but have chosen to let it happen and the world falls apart. Militia and Bandits run things now.<br />
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The plot - It would seem that the fighting uncle, brother of dead Dad, also knows why electricity has failed. Monroe, the villain, who was once best friends with the fighting uncle, wants to know how to get electricity back so he can build his evil empire and take over the world. Mwahahahahahahaha.<br />
<br />
The fight scene - There was a stand off between the fighting uncle and Monroe's men. The uncle walked down his huge stairs and fought maybe twenty men with a sword. I felt like I was watching Pirates of the Caribbean. Every time one of the good guys got in a tight spot, one of their pals popped up with a sword or crossbow to help them out. They shared a cheesy look of acknowledgment and continued fighting.<br />
<br />
This seemed like a collection of weak, one-dimensional scenes, involving weak, one-dimensional characters, and getting resolved in ridiculous and cliched ways. The bandits actually drank poisoned whisky when prompted to by the wicked stepmother!!!!!!<br />
<br />
This was a series I was excited to see. I'm not sure I'll watch episode two.<br />
<br />
3 out of 10Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07902533927814790513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2469945153735333893.post-20940667704107066552013-04-02T22:02:00.002-07:002013-04-02T22:02:32.699-07:00The Walking Dead - Season 3 Finale<div style="text-align: center;">
******** Spoilers ********</div>
<br />
So, The Walking Dead has wrapped up for another season. How was the ending?<br />
<br />
The whole season was building up to a showdown between Rick and The Governor. Having read the comic books, I thought I knew how this would play out. I was wrong. In the previous episode, Andrea was tied to a torture chair in what looked like a basement, Michone had just come back from being told that Rick wanted to give her over to The Governor to save the group, and Merle died after having taken out some of The Governor's gang.<br />
<br />
In this episode, The Governor convinces Woodbury that Rick and crew are nasty and hellbent on destroying their town. He manages to rouse the able bodied and they storm the prison.<br />
<br />
Once they get inside, the place appears to be empty. The group head into the prison and start their search for the other survivors. This is when Glen and Maggie pop up, armed with automatic rifles and turn the prison into a shooting gallery. The attack seemed to borrow heavily from 300, showing how tactics can out-fight the sheer weight of numbers. The army from Woodbury retreats.<br />
<br />
Meanwhile, Andrea is trying to retrieve a pair of pliers from the floor so she can free herself from her tied chair. All the while that she's doing this, we see that the man who has just recently died in the room with her, is starting to turn into a zombie. It's a race against time and Andrea finally manages to free herself as the man turns. We hear a fight between them but don't see it. The assumption is that Andrea got out in time. Especially as she's still in the comic books that left the Woodbury storyline behind years ago.<br />
<br />
Once The Governor catches up with his fleeing troupe, he executes them all for cowardice. Only one woman, who plays dead, survives.<br />
<br />
One of the looters stumbles upon Carl, who is with Hershel and his daughter. The looter is about to give himself up but Carl shoots him anyway. Later on, Hershel tells Rick what Carl has done. Carl justifies his actions by saying that if other people had been so ruthless then a lot of deaths would have been prevented. This world is turning Carl into something that doesn't sit right with his father.<br />
<br />
After the Governor has gone, Rick, Daryl, and Michone, head to Woodbury to finish things. On the way they find all the people that the Governor has killed, and the survivor. When they arrive at Woodbury, the survivor gets them in and The Governor still hasn't returned. This is where we find that Andrea was bitten in the fight with the zombie. She takes a gun from Michone and says that all she wanted to do was save lives. She then kills herself.<br />
<br />
The episode ends with Rick bringing all of the people from Woodbury back to the prison. All of the women, children, and injured people. Carl seems confused by the act of compassion as he watches the people get off the bus. Roll credits.<br />
<br />
Andrea dying came as a huge shock. After seeing her have sex with both Shane and The Governor, I suppose that it was the only thing they could do to redeem that character. Maybe Robert Kirkman recognised how annoying she was and could see that there was no saving her. I like that the show deviates from the comics so much. It makes the experience more exciting to not know what's coming. Like in the comics, anyone can die at any point.<br />
<br />
This episode also showed that Rick has a heart. It was a real turning point for him. Carl killing the member of The Governor's gang reminded Rick that he had a little boy to be a role model for. We saw a moment with Michone and him where he appologised. He also confessed that he only took her in because of the baby food that she was carrying. Michone said that he would have taken her in anyway. His hallucinations of Lori continued but he's learning to live with them now. It seemed that he was stepping out of the long dark tunnel that he's been lost in for most of the series, and is becoming the compassionate leader that he has the potential to be.<br />
<br />
I would have liked to see something else happening with The Governor. I was hoping that he would die in this episode and my worry is that the next series will drag out a storyline that could have been wrapped up in this one. Maybe the prison was an expensive set and they want to use it some more.<br />
<br />
Overall this was a good series. It suffered at points for being a little too slow. This is a complaint I would also level at the comics. However, what Kirkman always does is gives you enough to keep you coming back. Also, when he delivers the big moments, the knock you on your arse.<br />
<br />
Roll on season 4. <br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07902533927814790513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2469945153735333893.post-81377054736168741362013-03-12T23:16:00.000-07:002013-03-12T23:16:46.307-07:003 Things to Know About Finite and Nonfinite Verb Phrases1) <u>Finite</u> verb phrases show contrast in the meaning expressed by the verb. For example, they show contrast in:<br />
<br />
a) Tense - He <u>plays</u> football. / He <u>played</u> football.<br />
<br />
b) Number and Person - He <u>plays</u>. / They <u>play</u>. / I <u>am</u>. / You <u>are</u>.<br />
<br />
c) Allow the expression of facts, possibilities, wishes, and other contrasts of mood - He asked the car to <u>be</u> moved. / It <u>was</u> moved.<br />
<br />
2) If there is a series of verbs in the verb phrase, the finite verb is always the first. For example:<br />
I <u>was</u> being paid. / They <u>have</u> been asked.<br />
<br />
3) Nonfinite forms do not express contrasts of tense, number, person, or mood. They stay the same in clause regardless of any grammatical variation which may be taking place alongside them. There are three nonfinite forms in the verb:<br />
<br />
a) The -ing participle - I'm <u>going</u>. / They're <u>going</u>. / He was <u>going</u>. / <u>Going</u> home, I/we/they felt concerned. <br />
<br />
b) The -ed participle - I've <u>asked</u>. / He was <u>asked</u>. / They were <u>asked</u>. / <u>Asked</u> to come early, I/you/we arrived at 3.<br />
<br />
c) The base form used as an infinitive - They might <u>see</u>. / I'll <u>see</u>. / He wants to <u>see</u>.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07902533927814790513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2469945153735333893.post-48602218997188904042013-03-09T21:48:00.000-08:002013-03-09T21:49:14.515-08:005 Things to Know About Irregular Verbs1) There are less that 300 irregular verbs.<br />
<br />
2) Most irregular verbs change the vowel of the base to make their past or -ed participle forms. This is called vowel gradation. For example:<br />
<br />
meet-met / take-took / speak-spoken<br />
<br />
3) The -ed ending is never used in a regular way with an irregular verb. It is often not used at all - won, met, cut, sat - An important pattern with some verbs is the use of a variant form, in which the 'd' sound of the ending changes to a 't'. For example:<br />
<br />
burned - burnt / spilled - spilt / kneeled - knelt.<br />
<br />
4) Burned is more common in American English than British English. The 'd' and 't' forms do not convey the same thing. The 'd' form emphasises the duration of an action - it burned for weeks. Whereas the 't' form would be more appropriately used when saying - ow, that burnt me.<br />
<br />
5) There are seven classes of irregular verb:<br />
<br />
a) There are about 20 verbs whose only irregular feature is the ending used for both past and -ed participle forms: have - had / send - sent / burn - burnt - burned.<br />
<br />
b) There are about 10 verbs whose past tense is regular, but their -ed participle has an -n ending and a variant form in -ed: mow - mown - mowed / swell - swollen - swelled.<br />
<br />
c) There are about 40 verbs that have the same ending for both the past and -ed participle forms, but they are irregular because the vowel of the base form changes: keep - kept / sleep - slept / teach - taught / sell - sold.<br />
<br />
d) There are about 75 verbs that have an -n ending for the -ed participle form and an irregular past form. The vowel of the base also changes: blow - blew - blown / take - took - taken / see - saw - seen / undo - undid - undone.<br />
<br />
e) There are about 40 verbs that have the same form throughout: cut / let / shut / broadcast / outbid.<br />
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f) There are about 70 verbs that have no ending for both past tense and the -ed participle. The vowel used in the base changes: spin - spun / mislead - misled / sit - sat / stand - stood.<br />
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g) There are about 25 verbs that have no ending, the past and -ed participle forms are different, and the vowels change with each form: swim - swam - swum / begin - began - begun / go - went - gone.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07902533927814790513noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2469945153735333893.post-41769780002732535952013-03-05T21:03:00.000-08:002013-03-05T21:03:09.915-08:00<h2 style="text-align: center;">
3 Things to Know About Regular Verbs</h2>
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1) The forms of a regular verb can be predicted by rules. </div>
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2) There are thousands of regular verbs.</div>
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3) Regular full verbs appear in four forms, each have a different role in the clause.</div>
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a) BASE FORM: A form with no endings. This is sometimes called the infinitive form - go / look / run / discover / remember.</div>
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b) -S FORM: These are made by adding an s ending to the base form - looks / cuts / runs / tries / passes / pushes.</div>
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c) -ING PARTICIPLE: These are made by adding ing to the base - visiting / begging / panicking / creating.</div>
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d) A form made by adding -ed: This ending is found in the past form and in the -ed participle form - passed / stopped / died / barred / rented / funded</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07902533927814790513noreply@blogger.com0