Monday, 30 July 2018


The emotion left me, draining away at a speed I could barely fathom, lips turning purple as my breathing faltered. At this point in time I simply did not know what to do. Should I say something, fight fire with the real flames of my mind, or should I simply rise from the ground that hit me so very, very hard. Abraxos smirked, standing near the door from which he’d struck me from behind. The coward, the snake within the very lives we loved, always scheming and creating lies. I trusted him, loved him as a Brother, to which he repaid all of us with the crimes of hate.

“Brother,” shouted Abraxos as loud as he could, “Welcome to the new world order of my making!” Dusting the speckles of concrete from my clothes, eager to show some type of respect for myself, I stood and clenched my fists. If I could I would beat him until the sun removed itself from the sky but, according to my will and the testament of my soul, I could not do such a thing. We were Angels, the scribed protectors of every single sacred soul. We were supposed to be more. We were… .

“Abraxos, why do you do this?  We are but three left upon this world?” I proclaimed with the sincerity of a broken heart.
“Don’t you mean, ‘we are but two’ upon this world?” he replied with a smug demeanour. The words cracked my heart into the thousand slices of aching. My eyes closed, my tears formed and my mouth opened with unbelievable pain. I fell again. Her face flashed before my very memory, tearing into my peaceful ways. I was no match for him. I knew this. We both knew this. I was a scribe, a writer of ways, the bringer of knowledge but that didn't mean that I couldn't inflict chaos upon his mortal like frame. The thoughts danced within my view, her lips, my wings keeping her warm upon this world over the centuries of dark rule. The pain.

The pain. Every muscle within my frame tightened with savage rage as I finally let loose the scream that shattered a thousand panes of glass. My head fell and, as I tried before, I rose from the ground. I looked at him, I wished for my gaze to rip him into nothingness. He had taken everything. Every single last moment destroyed. Her fingertips, gone, her words, missing, her touch, never to be mine again.
“Come, Brother, Abraxos will have words with you!” he mocked. I flew forward as fast as my wings would allow, with the feathers bending with such force the walls within this room fell. For a second he looked shocked, not realising that rage within a person knew no bounds. Both my fists struck his frame sending both of us flying outside, smashing through another building only to land in the adjacent field. I scrambled to my feet, grasping his throat, lifting him, striking him, again and again. He laughed. He simply laughed.

I saw her face, again, within my mind and I let go of his neck, to step back a few paces. It was no use. It was futile. I would die for her, end my existence for her, take any blow within this world as nothing could hurt as much as this.  “Well done my Friend, a valiant try,” he quipped, with possibly some honesty within his words, “You know that you never had a chance. The Archangel, the first, cannot leave this world!” He was right, we both knew this, but a scribe uses more than his fists when faced with a foe that knows no boundaries. I smiled, knowing that I’d actually won the battle despite my own life ending within the mere moments of pause.

Abraxos looked down, still smiling, only to see the small Angel Blade thrust deep into his chest. Being completely immortal meant that you hardly ever felt pain but this, the mortal blow, would end him in the most horrific way. I stepped forward knowing my end would begin, “You’ve lost, your power will soon no longer be yours my Friend. You’ll walk through this world never being able to die. But never able to fly, or see the Threads of life, you will be nothing!” I wanted to laugh as he removed the blade, his spark of life exposed, ready to move forward to another. The rage within his eyes grew, the ground began to tremble. Any second my life would end, my silence assured, my way to the next life of perfection. With a near slow motion view I relaxed as the real Angel Blades struck my neck. Ending me. Ending my life. The Angels we knew were no more. Now it’s your chance, humanities chance, to make things better.


Abraxos will return in my new Book, coming soon: Fallen Grace (Followed by Threads). Exciting!

Apparently it took 37 minutes to write/edit the above post. Including checking twice, finding the picture etc.

Friday, 27 July 2018


Flash. Gerald cast his eyes across the garden from inside the waiting suite, wondering, thinking of what he was about to impose onto the country. It was a bold move, liable to cause complete anarchy, but change had to come despite the cost. He had hope, honest real hope, that it wouldn't all collapse, but he didn't want to simply carry on, knowing what he knew. It was time for a change. A dramatic change.

He couldn't fathom how many times he’d relaxed his mind, using this very view to appreciate what they were all given, but despite the beauty in the world, within his world, he’d seen enough to finally move forward. Turning, as the door opened, he smiled as Cynthia arrived exactly on time. She was reliable, honest, despite a few of his staff simply agreeing to whatever he stated, he’d come to appreciate her qualities and frank ability to see things clearly. They’d had blazing arguments behind closed doors but, above all, he appreciated the fact that despite him being the president of the United States, she always tried to keep him rational and down to earth.

“How is today looking?” he asked with warmth and a slight amount of tension in his voice.
“It’s all going to plan. Absolutely no leaks, murmurs, nothing to suggest that anyone knows what you’re about to do,” She replied, with the same tension, “are you sure you want to do this?”
“After billions being spent, my entire fortune gone, I couldn't change my decision even if I wanted to do so!  Talk while we walk?” He asked as Cynthia nodded and smiled.

He’d met Cynthia on the campaign trail, marvelled at her energy, the drive, the fire and, in all honesty, he knew that she’d probably make a better President but sometimes fate didn't work that way. He’d support her, once the last year of his residency ended, but had a feeling that she wouldn't even attempt such a task. “What’s happening out there today Cynthia?” he asked as they walked from the office to the corridor.
“Amazon and Walmart are willing to contribute sizeable donations, to secure the space under 400 foot,” she paused letting the information settle, but only for a second, “Oil reserves are now at 37 percent and holding, for now and that’s it for today.”
He knew that Cynthia was looking for a change of mood, a possible reaction, but he’d been working on his poker face, blocking his often easy to read expressions.
“You can tell Amazon and Walmart that the sky isn’t for sale, at least until my Son has become bored of flying aircraft and, the oil, will shortly become a non-issue. Hopefully.” He glanced at her face, knowing that she’d been checking, “How did I do?” he asked.
“Not bad, not bad at all. This time!”

They both laughed and, as the door approached, he stopped to stretch his neck a few times. Tension, at moments such as this, simply wouldn’t do. He handled the stress, even become accustomed to it, but it was still there within his bones and especially muscles. Stretching worked wonders, as did laughter, but there wouldn’t be any laughter for now. “Ready?” asked Cynthia.
“More than I’ll ever be in my life!” he replied and then moved towards the door.

The lights started to flash the moment the door opened, leading into a large room filled with representatives of every known main newspaper in the entire world. The buzz, the aura of the room, hit him and it never managed to seem old. The adrenaline moved through him and he caught the energy, held it, calmed himself and approached the podium. He glanced around the room, seeing familiar faces, some new, some old, but all wanting to feed upon his words. Every single letter, for the people in front of him, spelt money. Hundreds of articles, spinning of words, the joining of conclusions and more.

He cleared his throat and began. He knew that the words would cause immense shock but this had to be done. He removed all fear from his voice, erased it from his mind, then began.

“Good Evening. Today is a brave new day for the people of the United States of America. Today, on this day, we are embarking on a planet level change. We are about to lead the entire world in to a new era of positivity, growth and energy. For too long we have been held back, by greed, consumption, hidden wars and corruption on a global scale. I am talking about our daily lives, how we move through our lives, with our loved ones, to simply existing.”

“Today, right now, I have made a decision to move the $582.7 billion defence budget, for two years, to create and implement the factories required to manufacture part electric, part solar powered cars and other vehicles, for each and every single person who would like to participate. For a small charge of $800 dollars, per household, you can purchase two cars. As you have already funded this initiative via taxation it would be unfair to charge more. This, as well as other initiatives, are meant to eradicate the necessity for oil. For consumption. For waste. This…”

Flash. Clive leaned back in to his chair, shaking his head, amazed by what he’d seen. “Un-plug him and get him back upstairs!” he barked. For the last few years each University graduate, that had political motivation, had been tested for Presidential suitability and, as he’d known Gerald for a few years, he did have high hopes of success with this candidate. His clients paid a small fortune for this project and yet, so far, only two out of 90 tested presented the correct results. He needed to find someone charismatic, who believed in the appropriate way, but the new educational system was creating thinkers, people that wanted change, yet change could not be allowed to happen.

Ten minutes later Clive sat within the library dorm room, smiling at Gerald, while explaining that the results had been positive, that he would have a fantastic future. Gerald shook Clive’s hand, expressed pleasantries and left the room. Pressing the power button, on his laptop, the screen appeared and next to Gerald’s name, Clive typed, ‘Not suitable. Will not be presented with any avenue to proceed further than grade Foxtrot.

Thursday, 5 July 2018


The fragrance lingered in the air as he stopped. Everything stopped. The ticking clock against the far wall, often ignored, seemed to slow to a crawl. Each tick taking longer and longer as he closed his eyes. Enjoying. Reminiscing. Remembering the night before.

It had been a solitary business trip, nothing out of the ordinary, with the specific destinations defined upon the many emails and print outs residing within his digital life. The plane journey went without issue, the landing appearing faster than he’d imagined or, alternatively, he was getting used to the trip that little bit too much.

The day had moved so fast, his beating heart hardly even stopping to take a moments rest. He worked hard, damn hard, but he was specifically talented at what he did. He excelled, always trying to improve, never letting complacency take hold of his life. That alone, the thought of becoming that person, kept him at the top of his chosen game. All done, all resolved, everyone happy and the working day ended as expected.

All parties happy, invitations extended, he somehow managed to arrive at a ch√Ęteau of immense grandeur. Alone, walking with confidence, he relished the experience of visiting new places, to see those new faces, the smiles, the people watching of life and learning. Entering the main room, a grand spectacle that would have taken his breath away but, instead, he simply raised an eyebrow to appreciate his surroundings. Lush furniture, extravagant paintings and extras, all added to the moment.

Wine flowed freely, the laughter intoxicating, allowing his stance and defences to lower ever so slightly. Working, as he did, could often mean that he needed to be reminded that you could have fun, you could play, while allowing the work to go as planned. The lonely life, the solitary confinement of his existence, meant that he did actually enjoy the chance to let his guard down. All the way.

As usual, not that he planned such things, he caught the eye of a few female, as well as male, guests at the event. He wasn't short of admirers but, not that he’d admit it, he didn't want to believe that looks defined most initial events. He wanted to believe that personality, when all the clothes had been removed, truly brought forward the real desire above all of the floundering bedroom adventures. He laughed within his mind, realising that, at times, he really shouldn't think so much. The adventure, the experience, the excitement of every single new day, was all that mattered.

The hours flew away, speaking to many people, flirting, being flirted with, a few serious conversations and more. He’d eventually, accidentally, walked into a woman that most certainly caught his eye, her perfume enticing him. They exchanged pleasantries, talked about the world, righted so many wrongs, talked in French, a little German, showing off to each other, before retiring to a room at the far side of the building.

No words were then exchanged, for at least another few hours, until the night stole the remaining time and sent them to sleep. By the time he awoke she’d gone, leaving her number, a kiss upon an envelope, as well as the fragrance that stopped him. Reminded him. The aroma that brought the events of the previous night back into his mind. All of this, the adventure, the meeting of minds, the warmth of another pressed against him, made all of this world worthwhile.

Time returned to normal, the ticking returning to the usual speed, as he carried on getting ready to leave. Once more, just as he left, he stopped and turned to look at the room taking in everything. He wanted to remember, to always view this place as somewhere special. The fragrance still adding pause to his actions, he smiled, turned, lifted his phone and sent a message, ‘I’d like to know what perfume you used last night, as well as this morning, but please tell me in person. When you can! xxxx’