Make A Wish

Sometimes you don’t need a whole string of words to reflect the moment.

Sometimes you just need something simple to wish on.

Go on …..make a wish

 

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Stronger Within (The Silver Lake Series Book 1) By Coral McCallum

Thank you to Echoes In An Empty Room for this lovely review. Much appreciated.

Hannah's avatarEchoes In An Empty Room

Stronger Within is Book One of the Silver Lake series.
Lori – in recovery following a serious accident, our fragile heroine is at a crossroads in her life and has sought sanctuary at the beach.
Jake – hard working and with a heart of gold, a struggling musician who is chasing his dreams as front man of local rock band, Silver Lake.
Vulnerability meets rock in this tale of two creative souls following their own paths in life. When their paths collide neither of their lives will ever be the same again.
Stronger Within, set in the small town of Rehoboth, Delaware, is a contemporary love story telling a fast paced tale of rock music, convalescence and unexpected love. It’s a tale of friendship, family and following your heart.

My Thoughts:

This is a new author to me and if your a fan of rock music and romance then this…

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The Imp – part twelve

Here’s the next, long overdue instalment of The Imp. Enjoy!

The Imp – part twelve

In a room, illuminated only by a small oil lamp, Jem sat beside his tiny daughter’s cradle, singing softly as he rocked her to sleep. The baby wriggled restlessly until she had turned onto her side to face her father then closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. Loathe to leave her, Jem sat on, watching her gentle breathing with his hand resting on the carved edge of the crib.

High up in her tree top prison Amber was pacing the floorboards with her fractious son. Nothing seemed to settle him at this point in the evening. Night after night he cried himself to a standstill. She had tried everything but to no avail. He wasn’t hungry. He didn’t need changed. He didn’t have wind. He just wailed, a heart wrenching tortured cry. Whispering softly to him, the fairy/elf delicately reached out with her elven magic and probed into his mind. Up until now Amber had resisted the temptation to use magic on the baby but she was rapidly reaching the end of her tether. She was startled to see a clear vision of her sleeping daughter. The baby girl looked to be wrapped snuggly in a soft wool blanket. A hand rested on the edge of the wooden cradle. An adult hand. Jem’s hand. The sight of his signet ring and his long fine fingers brought tears to her eye. Instantly she understood her son’s distress.

The baby boy was missing his twin sister. While she slept, their telepathic connection was severed. It was the unbearable loneliness and the separation that was causing him to wail inconsolably.

“Hush, little one,” she whispered in his mind. “You’ll be together again soon. I promise.”

In his study Urquhart was pouring over the leather bound book. He had read it from cover to cover four times already, desperately seeking more clues about the witch and her sisters. So far he had determined that each witch was tasked with acquiring a gemstone- one from the elves, one from the fairies and one from the mortal men. The last fable in the tome suggested that a fourth stone was needed to connect the three gems. Despite reading and re-reading the six tales, the wizard still had no clue as to what this mystery gem was and not the slightest hint as to where it may be.

Muttering to himself, he opened the bottom drawer of his desk and brought out an ancient elven manuscript. His master had gifted it to him when he completed his apprenticeship, saying he would have need of it in troubled hour. Perhaps this was that troubled hour? The aged elven manuscript was badly faded in places but with a subtle rejuvenating spell, the wizard soon had it restored to its former brightness. Beside him the candle began to splutter as it reached the brass candlestick. Quickly he used the dying flame to light a fresh candle then returned his attention to the manuscript.

As the first light of dawn streaked across the sky, Urquhart found what he had been searching for. After trawling through centuries of elven history he had found a description of a theft that had rocked the gentle race to its very heart. The parchment told a strikingly familiar tale. A beautiful raven haired elf had wooed the newly-crowned and unwed king. He had been completely besotted with her and married her in a lavish ceremony in front of the High Council. Two days after the celebratory feasting ended, the king was found dead in his bedchamber. Poisoned. His new queen was nowhere to be found. Nothing in the room had been disturbed and the door had been locked from the inside. The only item missing was the king’s ceremonial chain of office. It was a heavy ornate gold chain that he used to hold his official royal robes in place. The clasp had been forged by the original elves and at its centre they had set a large emerald in a bed of gold carved oak leaves. Nothing else was annotated in the manuscript as being out of the ordinary apart from the unexplained presence of black crow feathers on the chamber’s window sill.

“Damn and blast,” hissed Urquhart, placing the elven history back in the drawer.

As he stared out of his study window, the wizard recalled a song he had heard the fairies perform at the annual fayre. It was a love song that told of the death of one of the first fairy kings. He had died from a strange malaise after the mysterious disappearance of his queen, following the birth of their twins. The babies, a boy and a girl, were left orphans and deprived of both their parents’ love. One verse of the ballad made mention of a missing sapphire ring that had been the king’s gift to his queen following the birth of their children. The last verse contained a reference to a giant mythical bird carrying the queen away to its eyrie. More feather references.

Suddenly it became obvious to Urquhart that the witch, masquerading as the Lady Karina, had had her black heart set on the ruby that was the centre piece of the king’s crown.

With a flash of inspiration, Urquhart realised that the fourth stone had to be a diamond. Not just any diamond. A mythical stone that had perhaps been connected with all three races in the past; a stone that had long since been lost.

A week had passed since Karina’s return to the family home and she was still trapped in the form of a crow. Her sisters had discarded the cage but her movements were restricted to her own suite of rooms, deep within the mountain. She hadn’t seen daylight for days. Captivity was doing nothing for her humour and she had already bitten three of the household servants as they brought her meagre meals of grain. The last serving girl had apparently lost her finger as a result of a particularly vicious bite.

“Sister, dearest.” Greta’s sharp greeting startled her. “We may have found a solution.”

“You have? About bloody time!”

“Yes,” snapped the elder witch, extending her hand. “Step on and come with me. I’ll trust you not to fly off.”

As she hopped onto her sister’s outstretched hand, Karina felt a gentle tingle of magic round her feet as enchanted shackles held her firmly in place.

“So much for trust, dear Greta!”

“Well, perhaps if you had exercised the same caution, you wouldn’t be in this predicament!”

Silently Karina was carried through the keep’s torch lit corridors until they arrived at a small ornately carved door. It was the door to their brother’s private study. No one had dared to venture inside since his untimely disappearance over a century before. Greta snapped her fingers and the door opened. Once inside the small chamber she released the binding spell and allowed Karina to hop off onto the back of the only chair in the sparsely furnished room. On the desk sat a small dish of seeds and beside it a smoking vial of bright green liquid.

“We consulted the family physick and Isabella found an entry with a potion recipe that should solve you bodily problem,” Greta explained as she poured the smouldering contents of the vial over the bird seed. “Eat, Karina.”

Without a murmur of complaint, the cursed witch flew over to the desk and, perching on the edge of the silver dish, began to eat the sodden seeds. She had expected them to taste foul but was surprised to discover they were sweet, deliciously sweet. Soon the dish was empty.

“Now, we wait,” stated Greta coldly.

Gradually Karina felt a tingling sensation begin to spread through her feathers. She felt as though she was starting to swell. Just as she was on the brink of calling out in fear, there was a flash of blinding green light, followed by a cloud of vile smelling smoke.

When the smoke cleared, Karina stood, naked as the day she was born, in front of her elder sister.

“Welcome back, Karina,” purred Greta as she handed her a dark green velvet robe.

When Amber awoke, her senses told her immediately that someone had been in the room while she had slept. A small package lay on the table, wrapped in a leather cloth. Beside it lay a large bunch of wild flowers and a plate of fresh fruit.

“Blain,” she whispered to herself. No one else would have brought her flowers.

Her son was still sleeping soundly in his plain wooden crib. With a quick check to see that he was alright, the fairy/elf slipped out of bed, crossing the cold damp floorboards in her bare feet and unwrapped the package. In the middle of the leather cloth lay a silver thimble, a long thick needle and a small leather pouch full of soot. Her heart sank. The rowan twig was missing. Without it she couldn’t make use of the other items. Suddenly something in the centre of the bunch of flowers caught her eye. In typical Blain fashion, he had disguised the twig amongst the colourful blooms.

Now she had everything she needed.

Carefully she hid the items under the mattress of her son’s small bed. As she folded the piece of leather, Amber noticed there was a message written in tiny lettering in one corner.

“The portal opens in two days. It will be open for eight days and nights. I will bring you a visitor in three night’s time. Be ready to do what you plan. Time will be short. B.”

Bank Holiday Monday – a household chore that nobody wants to tackle

Bank Holiday Monday – oh what to do?

Yes, there’s the usual list of chores that could be done, the compulsory trip to the nearest DIY superstore or a venture to the local garden centre.

It would be nice to go out for a leisurely family lunch. ( A girl can but dream)

If the sun stays out, I could venture out later, camera in hand,

If the rain comes on, there’s one task that should be undertaken.

This is a task that any of the four of us who live in this house could do. We all know and agree that it needs to be done. Once it has been done, we will all benefit from its completion.

Will it get done today?…….well, the day is young……but I’m making no rash promises here!

So what is this dreaded chore that desperately requires attention?

The family CD collection needs to be put into alphabetical order. (The DVDs and Blu Rays are already done- the books are a lost cause!)

Considering the amount of music played in this household, there’s not an unmanageable amount to sort out.

In the dim and distant past, when we only had about 50 CDs, they were all neatly stacked in a small black storage unit from Argos and were in strict alphabetical order.

Then two things – well three technically – happened.

We had children, both of whom loved to tip the CDs all over the living room floor as toddlers.

And we bought more music so the original storage unit rapidly became too small.

The end result is, that over a lengthy period of time, law and order has long since vanished from the family music collection. I hasten to add, my treasured box of vinyl is in perfect alphabetical order.

Bearing in mind the diverse musical tastes of the household, if you randomly select a CD, Lord knows what you may find in your hands.

When attempting to agree on which CD should provide the background music over dinner, we’ve resorted on many occasions to selections such as “middle shelf, second column from the right, six discs down.”. Then you pray it doesn’t result in the soundtrack from High School Musical or Bob The Builder.

Suffice to say, there’s an eclectic mix lurking on those shelves.

We also have a size issue to consider when one of us finally gets around to restoring law and order. Some albums have come in presentation boxes of non-standard size. Others are CD/DVD combinations in boxes of a non-standard width. There’s some in cardboard gatefold sleeves. And don’t get me started about the number with cracked and broken boxes!

Throw in the countless Now CD’s that will require numerical sorting too, is it any wonder that no one wants to tackle this labour of love?

Well, I suppose I should stop procrastinating and bite the bullet and get on with it.

 Oh wait! I’ve just remembered I need to go to garden centre as a matter of urgency to purchase some plants for the patio!

I guess the CDs can wait a while longer….

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Rock Chicks Night Out ..In Theory

After the safe arrival of Book Baby and of surviving the first few surreal days of Book Baby motherhood, it was time for some normality – I use the term loosely- to be restored to my world.

It was time for a post-Book Baby night out!

No, Rock Mum was not out to play. ALL children were left at home. Rock Friend was out though!

In chilly, but glorious, sunshine I headed off mid-afternoon for Rock Chicks Night Out.

Breaking with my usual pre-gig routine, I had arranged to meet up with my fellow Rock Chick writer friend, Karen Soutar,  for an early dinner then we were heading off to see Theory of a Deadman at my favourite venue. Yes, you’ve guessed it – the O2 ABC. Well, I’ve not been there since mid- February! Withdrawal symptoms were setting in!

I had just settled into my seat on the train when my phone buzzed. Voicemail! It was a panicky message from the restaurant to say their gas was off and they could only offer a restricted menu, did I still want the table at 4.30? Before the train plunged into the lengthy tunnel that runs under Greenock (it used to be Europe’s longest at one point in time) I called them back. Yes, pizza was still available. Whew! Panic over.

It was only a short walk from the station to the restaurant and I’d  just taken my seat (too cold to wait outside!) when Karen arrived, equally frozen.

Cue two hours of girlie chat as we caught up on several month worth of news and gossip all washed down with pizza and beer!

Having paid the bill, we meandered our way up to the venue debating whether or not we had time for coffee or not. (Really RnFnR I know but I had to be safe to drive home from the station so no more beer allowed.)

As we approached the O2 ABC, the caffeine fix got cancelled. A lengthy queue was already snaking up the hill beside the venue. We hiked up the vertical slope to join the end of it- oxygen required!

I’d seen Theory of a Deadman last October when they were the first support act for Black Stone Cherry. I think it’s fair to say that wasn’t their best night on stage. The half hour slot felt too short for them and they were plagued with sound issues. Karen had them before too, a few years back,  as a support act so we were both curious to experience their full set.

After the obligatory trip to the merchandise stall for another black t-shirt ( a girl can never have too many), we took up our positions for the evening near the front, about 5 or 6 rows off the barrier.

There was only one support act for the evening- Beasts. They were a three piece band and were OK. Good, entertaining but not brilliant. There is definite potential there. After their short half hour set , we both agreed that their energetic bass player needed to bulk up on the muscle front a bit, lose the scoop neck t-shirt from under the leather biker jacket and ultimately go for a more “stripped back” look!

Now, I have an uncanny knack at gig for ending up behind the tallest and usually widest person in the room. This was no exception, except on the width front! I ended up behind two students who could have passed for Ents! They towered over little 5’ 3” me. C’est la vie.

I find Theory of a Deadman a hard band to categorise- a bit of rock, a bit of grunge, a bit tongue in cheek, a bit of country and a lot of “break up” songs. How about some “make up” songs, guys?

Loved their ninety minute set. They played most of my favourites –Lowlife, Panic Room, The Bitch Came Back, Santa Monica and I Hate My Life. I’d have liked to have seen World War Me on the set list but, hey ho, you can’t have them all. The crowd lapped it up, And, I even managed to get a few photos in between the branches- sorry, arms- of the Ents. Happy days!

All too soon it was over, ending with Bad Bad Girlfriend. Ending on a high.

Karen and I made our weary way back down Sauchiehall St then said our farewells as we headed home from different stations.

A great Rock Chick night out. Need to do it again soon – but can we make it a warmer night! Nearly froze my ass off waiting for the train!

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The First Few Days of Book Baby Motherhood

Book Baby Blog collage

It’s Sunday morning and I’m sitting in the sun with a coffee and some hot buttered cinnamon raisin toast, trying to get my head around the last few days.

What can I say about last week? Where to start!

When I uploaded my last blog post and launched Book Baby on the world I was physically trembling with nerves – scared nerves and excited nerves.

Walking into the salt mine as usual an hour or so later felt weird. I guess by then my own paranoia was beginning to creep in and I felt as though everyone was staring at me. The rational voice in my head told me not to be so stupid, to go and get a coffee and get on with some work – I did.

Throughout the day my phone, email and FB pages were lit up like Christmas trees as I was smothered in congratulatory wishes. Thank you!

The majority of the day was spent with a warm feeling of pride burning deep inside me – possibly fuelled by the 50 Shades of Red I turned every time anyone spoke to me about Book Baby!

I had bought a tiny bottle of bubbly on my way home the night before. In all honesty, I wasn’t sure how to celebrate this momentous event. I’d gone through many ideas in my head but wasn’t confident that anyone else would be the least bit interested in celebrating with me on a Wednesday night or any other night for that matter. (I’m not a party person)

The Big Green Gummi Bear usually heads to the gym after work so I didn’t expect him home until late – hence the choice of a little bottle of bubbles. Enough for one small glass each. One wee toast.

He surprised me by coming home early, skipping the gym. He said he felt as though it was wrong to go to the gym and that he should come home and celebrate with me. That meant SO much to me!

We toasted the birth of Stronger Within together – should’ve bought a bigger bottle after all!

Then we were both looking at each other with a “Now what?” question hanging in the air.

Emotionally it all felt very surreal and, to be honest, it still does.

Even now, I’m still blushing bright red any time anyone speaks to me about the book. That little nagging voice of “Paranoia” has been whispering in my ear all week as I hear of more and more friends and family (including parents!) and friends of my parents (eek!) who are reading or planning to start reading my Book Baby- what if they hate it? What if they think its rubbish? What if they are laughing at me behind my back?

What can I say? That’s me through and through about most things in life! Still psychologically scarred from the dim and distant past.

So “Now what”?  The question is still hanging there waiting to be answered.

I’ve drawn up a short list –

  • Stop feeling so self-conscious and allow myself to feel proud of my achievement
  • Relax and let things take their course with Stronger Within
  • Re-connect with my characters and story lines. The rest of the tale isn’t going to write itself!
  • Learn how to stop blushing!

I’ve a feeling that the last one may prove to be impossible!

Stronger Within —-the dream’s come true!

Well, the day is finally here! The wait is over!

(My hands are trembling a little with nervous excitement as I write this.)

Book Baby has been born!

StrongerWithin_Cover3_SmallFile

Stronger Within, my debut novel (eek!) is live in the Kindle Store on Amazon for the all the world to see. (Takes deep breath…..)

Actually seeing it on there, with my name and a price tag beside it, has stirred a plethora of emotions within me – a bit like childbirth does, to continue with that analogy.

The last few days have been an emotional rollercoaster. Despite my best laid plans – I had the whole week off work to complete the final edit and preparations – Mother Nature threw a spanner in the works. For the first time in almost twenty years, I was ill and spent two days in bed and another under a blanket on the couch – flu! It cost me three precious days of calm, organised preparation time. Easter Monday was a write off too as I spent most of it in floods of tears, mourning the loss of my beloved white cat, Gandalf. One of the toughest days of my life but at least he’s not suffering anymore.

By Tuesday I felt semi-human again and, four days later than planned, the final edit began.

This final spelling, grammar and punctuation check truly was a long, laborious process (yes- pain relief and Lemsips were required – no natural birth for Book Baby I’m afraid!) Finally with one almighty push, I had my completed word document.

It was stark naked but Stronger Within was ready to be uploaded onto my Kindle Direct Publishing account.

This proved a little tricky and fiddly. It was a bit like trying to wrestle a baby into an all-in-one sleep suit. Bits kept wriggling free! Some of the legal disclaimer page didn’t sit quite right. Some of the title fonts were too big. My author’s note and biography pages (the two hardest bits to write, by the way) also tried to escape. However, like all new mothers, I persevered and soon had it all snuggly dressed.

I sat in the kitchen, on my own, music blaring as usual, staring at the screen before reaching out to hit submit.

There were no fanfares. No fireworks. No party streamers. No champagne corks flying.

Just me, a half-drunk glass of Lucozade and Myles Kennedy singing in the background.

I’d done it! I’d really done it!

Book Baby had become Stronger Within.

The four handwritten A4 notebooks had been transformed into a Kindle e-book.

Even now, several days later, it’s still not quite sunk in.

As a child, I was always scribbling stories in notebooks, seldom finishing any of them.

As a teenager, writing was my escape from the bullying I was subjected to in school. Most lunch hours were spent huddled in a quiet corner, safely lost in my own creative bubble.

Marriage and children came along and for years I never wrote at all. I still kept my diary but that was about it until five or six years ago. I found myself with an hour and a half to myself once a week while Girl Child was at dance class. While she pirouetted and tapped upstairs, I sat in the local theatre’s café writing poetry. It was a start.

Almost two years ago I couldn’t keep the characters in my imagination quiet any longer and, in true Coral fashion, bought a new A4 notebook and a new pen and began to write. The end result is Stronger Within.

Some of you are possibly wondering – “Why launch a book on a Wednesday?”

The 15th April was chosen as Book Baby’s birthday a few months ago. It’s a date that means a lot to me personally. It was my Wee Gran’s birthday (she would have been 113 today if she was still with us). She discovered the joy of reading late in life. Like most of us, she began with Enid Blyton. The only difference was that she was in her late seventies at the time! My mum suggested that she join the local library and my Wee Gran soon developed a love of a good doctor/nurse romance. I wonder what she would have made of Stronger Within?

There’s a second reason for choosing the 15th April. Twenty one years ago today the Big Green Gummi Bear asked me to marry him. Yes, I’m a romantic fool at heart!

So what’s next?

Well, there’s no rest for the wicked! I’m planning to spend the next few weeks writing, promoting Stronger Within and trying to re-charge my batteries then I’ll start typing up Book Baby 2. It’s already written (well the first draft is) and fills another four A4 notebooks.

None of this would have been possible without the support and encouragement of my “infamous five” alpha readers. (Have you each worked out who the other four are yet?) Without their love and friendship, Stronger Within would still just be a story in four notebooks in a box under my kitchen table. Thank you just doesn’t seem enough here.

A huge thank you to my beta readers who arrived like the cavalry a few weeks ago to read over the final drafts.

To my artist friend who gifted me the Celtic dragon design – thank you from the bottom of my heart. It’s perfect.

And a final thank you to my “writing fairy godmother” for waving her Photoshop magic wand for me!

So all that’s left to say is make yourself a coffee or pour a glass of wine, sit back, relax and enjoy Stronger Within.

Love and hugs to you all

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Stronger-Within-Silver-Lake-Book-ebook/dp/B00VXDSC1M/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1428994193&sr=8-1&keywords=stronger+within

A Little Sneak Peak ……

Time to bite the bullet and share a little something with you.  Instead of my usual weekly ramblings I’ve decided to let you have a little  sneak peak inside Book Baby.

Enjoy

Stronger Within- excerpt

With a long sigh of complete contentment, she felt the tension melt from her shoulders. Her first tentative steps onto the beach since last summer. It felt good to be home. It was late afternoon and she could feel the last of the spring sun’s warmth on her skin. She was also acutely aware of Mary’s eyes on her, as she watched from the sun deck. No going back now. After all, she had made it this far and it felt good to be outdoors. She adjusted the grip on her crutches, making sure the broad base plates didn’t sink into the soft sand and slowly headed across the beach towards the ocean. Once on the hard packed surface she felt more stable and her confidence began to grow. The waves rolled in gently beside her, but she was careful to stay beyond their reach. Tasting the salt on her lips, she smiled and headed along the shoreline towards the boardwalk.

The beach was quiet, with only a few families packing up after an afternoon at the shore. It had been unseasonably warm all week and everyone was making the most of the bonus sunshine. Small seabirds were playing in the shallows, rushing backwards and forwards twittering merrily. After about a hundred yards, she stopped to watch the waves, listening to their rhythmic flow. Hopefully by summer, when the water would be warmer, she would be able to enjoy swimming in the ocean again. Hopefully…

Oh it was good to be home; good to be back by the ocean.

Step by carefully placed step, she kept wandering along the sand towards town. She drank in all of her surroundings, the birds, the shells, and an occasional abandoned sandcastle. Lost in her own thoughts, she immersed herself in her private beach world.

It was the throbbing pain from her leg that brought her back to the real world. She had been stupid. She had walked too far. With panic and fear rising in her chest, she headed up the beach towards the boardwalk that ran parallel to the shore. If she could get onto firm ground and rest for a while, maybe she could recover enough strength to get back to the house. Mary had warned her to be careful, had warned her not to try to go too far on her first day out. The boardwalk seemed to be a mile away, even though it was, in reality, only a few short yards away. As the sand got softer her crutches dug further in, despite their broad base plates. The left one sank into a particularly soft patch. Suddenly her leg gave way and she crashed onto the beach.

For a few moments she lay there, tears welling up in her eyes, terrified that she was hurt. Gingerly, she manoeuvred herself into a sitting position.

“Shit!” she yelled out to the world. “Shit!”

Her crutches lay just within arm’s reach and she dragged them over towards her. Getting back to her feet was going to be a challenge. One that looked impossible in the current situation. There was no one in sight and Lori felt a sharp stab of fear in her chest. As she sat figuring out how she was going to get up without falling again, she was unaware that she was being watched from the shadows of boardwalk.

Jake watched her from the distant vantage point of the boardwalk. He had headed for the beach after the end of his shift at the pizza parlour. It had been a rough day and he had decided to walk off his black mood before heading to meet the guys. The last thing they needed was him turning up in a foul mood, stinking of tomato sauce and cheese. He had walked to the south end of the promenade and had just turned back when he saw the girl walking down on the sand. It was the sun catching the golden highlights in her hair that had attracted his attention. He never noticed her crutches at first. Watching from a distance, he had kept pace with her, then stopped to watch as she turned towards the boardwalk. When he saw her stumble he regretted not following his instincts and going down to walk on the sand with her.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Shit.”

There were no breaks in the fence nearby, so he jumped over the wooden palings into the dune grass and ran towards her, sand immediately filling his shoes. By the time he was close enough to call out to her, she was sitting up and looked to be unhurt. He almost turned away but decided against it and continued to walk down the beach.

“Hi,” he called out. “Are you ok?”

She was sitting rubbing her thigh and there were tears on her cheeks. Her pale complexion suggested she hadn’t been out doors much recently.

“Hi,” she replied with a weak smile. “I could do with some help.”

“Figured,” he said sitting down on the sand beside her. “Are you hurt?”

“No, not really. It was my own stupid fault. I came too far and wasn’t paying attention. I lost my footing.”

“Can’t be easy walking the beach with crutches,” he observed. “How far have you walked?”

“Less than a quarter of a mile. I was fine when I was down on the wet sand but I began to get tired. I was trying to get up to the boardwalk. I figured if I got onto solid ground it would be easier to walk back.”

“Let me guess,” observed Jake. “You’ve not been out much with those sticks?”

“No,” she confessed. “I haven’t.”

A single tear ran down her pale cheek. She reached up to roughly brush it away, embarrassed by her show of emotion, but only succeeded in leaving a smear of sand in its place. That was the final straw. Burying her face in her hands, she sat and sobbed. Months of pent up frustration flowed down her cheeks in a river of tears. Hesitantly, Jake put a comforting arm around her shoulders and held her as she wept.

“Hey,” he whispered softly. “It’ll be ok. I’ll get you home safely.”

“I’m sorry,” she sniffed. “I don’t usually sob all over complete strangers”

“Well, I don’t usually go around picking up fallen angels on the beach either.”

She smiled at his weak attempt at humour.

“I’m Jake by the way.”

“Lori,” she replied.

“Well, Lori, let’s get you up on your feet and up onto the boardwalk.”

“Thank you.”

Gauging that she didn’t weigh much, Jake handed her the crutches, told her to hold onto them then lifted her up into his arms. She was even lighter than he had guessed, so carrying her up the beach to the nearest pathway was no challenge. Once back up on the boardwalk, he sat her down on the first bench they came to.

“You sure you’re ok?” he asked, as he sat beside her.

“Yes, thank you. I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t come along.”

“You’d have figured it out eventually.”

“I guess. Either that or Mary would’ve come looking for me,” admitted Lori, brushing sand off her jeans.

“Mary?”

“Yeah, she’s my housekeeper. It was her idea that I take a walk. I’ve been sitting on the deck all afternoon gazing out at the ocean. She told me I needed to venture off the deck sometime and that today was as good a day as any. She’ll feel so bad when she hears I fell,” she explained.

“Who’s going to tell her?” Jake said with a wink. “I’ll walk you back. You don’t need to tell her that you fell.”

“Thanks.”

Stiffly and with more than a hint of nerves, Lori got to her feet and repositioned her crutches. Her leg was screaming at her and she knew it would be hard to keep news of her fall from the ever watchful Mary. As they began to walk along the sandy boards Jake observed how carefully Lori walked – watched the determination in each step and sensed the pain that was etched into her pale face. She had the bluest eyes he had ever seen, but there was a deep sadness cast through them.

“Pardon my asking but what happened to you? I’m thinking the crutches are a very recent addition to your wardrobe.”

“And you’d be right,” she confessed, pausing to look up at him. “I had an accident just before Christmas. I broke my leg quite badly. I came down here about six weeks ago. This is the first time I’ve been out on my own since the accident.”

“And you thought a walk on the sand was the smartest place to start?”

Lori laughed. Jake thought it the most beautiful musical laugh and joined in.

“I guess not, “she giggled. “So what brought you out this far?”

“A shit shift at work. A foul mood.”

“And scraping a dumb blonde off the sand wasn’t in the plan?”

“No, but I‘m glad I was there to rescue you,” he admitted. That wonderful laugh and those sad blue eyes were having a strange effect on his heart. A weird but wonderful effect. It had been a long time since he had felt that way. “Where exactly am I taking you when we run out of boardwalk?”

“Fourth house past the end. If that’s ok?”

“Not a problem, li’l lady.”

They walked on in silence for a few minutes, the end of the boardwalk drawing closer and neither of them really wanting to reach it. Surreptitiously, Jake watched her steely concentration, drank in her fragile beauty and breathed in her light, floral perfume. It had been a very long time since someone had had such an impact on him. A long time since he had bothered to look, if he was honest with himself. Between each painful step, Lori subtly surveyed her rescuer. He would make a fantastic model for a life drawing. His long sun bleached blonde hair fell carelessly down over his shoulders, almost reaching the middle of his back. She guessed from the tiny lines around his twinkling hazel eyes that he was a little older than her and his height dwarfed her small frame. There was something genuine about him. A rough diamond found in the sand? A friend? Lord, she could use one!

Deciding to take a risk, Lori said, “When we reach the house, will you come in for a coffee or a beer? It’s the least I can offer.”

“I’m not sure,” began Jake glancing at his watch. “Oh what the hell! The guys can wait. Beer sounds good.”

And the story continues in Stronger Within – due out mid-April on Kindle.

Drookit But Still Smiling

Anyone who follows my activities can probably guess what’s coming next…..

Rock Mum was out to play again last night.

After a mad dash home from the Salt Mine, a quick change of clothes and a much needed bacon sandwich, I rushed off to catch the 5:25 train to Glasgow, ably chaperoned by Boy Child.

Our destination this time was the O2 Academy in Glasgow. (Boy Child’s favourite venue) We were off to see Rival Sons.

The only drawback – the weather. It was pouring with rain, there was an icy wind howling and it was Baltic! Just how far did we Spring forward when the clocks changed last weekend? To Winter? Brrr

For once even Boy Child had dressed for the elements – confirmation of just how awful it was if the teenager was feeling it!

As we stood outside the venue in the growing but shivering, damp queue (no coffee shops next to the venue so no caffeine fix- BOO!) I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of an evening we were in for.

We’d seen Rival Sons back in December and much as I’d loved their set, there was something not quite right about it. Don’t get me wrong, they were brilliant but that little je ne sais quoi was missing.

I don’t think I’ve ever been so relieved to see a venue’s doors open so we could scurry in out of the rain.

Dripping, we stopped off at the merchandise stall to purchase the obligatory t-shirts. Moral victory- we managed to agree on two different designs so no mother/son t-shirt clash to mark this occasion. I also treated myself to a canvas tote bag. (Beats paying 5p a bag in the shops and it’s small enough to fold up and fit in the back pocket of my tardis-like handbag.) Result all round!

There is only one spot to stand at a Rival Sons show – especially if you are with Boy Child. Right in front of Scott Holiday. We found ourselves among the same group of die-hards that we had been beside back in December. See we’re not the only looney tunes happy to see these guys again so soon.

Much to my surprise there was only one support act lined up for the show, New York duo, The London Souls. I’ll be honest – I’d never heard of them. This two piece band, comprising of guitar and drums, transported the Glasgow crowd back in time by about forty five years and played a short but solid soulful set, heavily influence by 1960’s/70’s icons. Worth checking this band out when their debut album is released later this year.

The intro tape played the theme from The Good The Bad and The Ugly. As it rang out over the expectant fans, Rival Sons appeared out on stage.

Glasgow was in for a treat! The boys from California were all dressed in kilts. While frontman Jay Buchanan had gone for a more traditional look, guitarist Scott Holiday was rocking his pointed toe boots and leather jacket with his black kilt. Hot Hot Hot

Their set started with the incredible Electric Man and over the next ninety odd minutes they powered their way through a further seventeen songs, including a short five song acoustic set in the middle of proceedings.

Cue clothing issue as Scott Holiday realised the fans on the rail were seeing a bit more of him than usual when he sat down to play. Thank God he’s not a true Scot!

Highlight of the night for me was their performance of Where I’ve Been. I LOVE that song!

This time the whole set shone- sparkled even. I realised what had been missing from December – smiles.

All of them looked more relaxed and seemed to be genuinely enjoying playing this iconic art deco venue. There was even a hint of mischief from Jay Buchanan as he flicked up the back of Scott Holiday’s kilt during the encore.

It was a joy to see them having fun.

When we emerged into the dark, I  was relieved to find that the rain had eased up. After a short sprint towards the station, with a brief pit stop at KFC (Boy Child was hungry) we boarded the train home. Both of us tired but happy.

We may not have done the mother/son t-shirt thing but it was a cracking mother/son night out.

As Boy Child prepares to leave high school and move on to university, I can’t help but wonder how many more gigs will he will be content to enjoy with his Rock Mum?

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Still As A Statue

A few months ago I was walking up Sauchiehall St in Glasgow with Girl Child and took note of the number of buildings that have ornate figures carved on them, especially up around the O2 ABC area. It set me thinking….seldom a good thing.

The following short piece of fiction was inspired by those mad thoughts. Enjoy!

Still As A Statue

The soft light from the computer screen was the only illumination in the room. Staring intently at the screen, the young art student couldn’t comprehend what she was seeing. It was late and she knew she was tired however what she had just noticed made no logical sense at all.

For the past two weeks she had been focussed on her final photography project for her portfolio. She had a love/hate relationship with the camera but, after a lengthy lecture from her tutor, had conceded that she had no choice but to submit some photographic images as part of her overall degree portfolio. In an attempt to make things easier for herself, she had elected to centre the theme of her coursework on the stone statues that she walked past every day on her way to college.

Her daily route took her across a small square in the city centre, slightly off the beaten track, but filled with stone statues. It had caught her attention in her first year and she had done some research at that time into its history. All the sandstone buildings around the perimeter of the square had been designed by a Victorian architect who was renowned for adding Gothic touches to his work. He had met up with an aspiring French sculptor and together they had collaborated on the architecture of the square. Every building had at least one carved stone image on display, some having several. There were gargoyles leering down from every angle. In the centre of the quadrangle there was a small public garden containing more samples of the sculptor’s work.Her research had come to an abrupt halt. Both the architect and the sculptor had mysteriously disappeared shortly before the last house was completed, leaving one home with an empty plinth within the archway above the front entrance. As the sculptor hadn’t left any instructions or partially finished pieces, no one knew which statue had been destined to fill the space.

The following day she had scoured the area and finally found the house with the missing statue. It may have been her imagination but the air temperature had seemed to drop  a few degrees as she stood gazing up at the empty arch.

Now almost three years later she used these statues as  the models for her photography project. They had proved to be the perfect subjects. Always still. Facial expressions fixed. No risk of them twitching and ruining the shot. She had photographed them over several days, taking hundreds of shots from every conceivable angle. In different light they looked subtly altered so she repeated her photographic session by the light of the dawn and by the light of the moon. The variable Scottish weather had aided her project too, allowing her the opportunity to capture images of the stone figures bathed in bright sunshine and lashed by driving rain.

As she had edited the photographs she had felt pleased with the results. Her camera had captured the texture of the stone, the emotions carved into the faces and she had even picked out a few smaller carvings that she previously missed.

Now though, as she sat preparing the final images for printing off in college in the morning, she couldn’t make sense of the scenes before her.

Crazy as it sounded, the statues weren’t always in the same location.

Scrutinising   the hundreds of photographs she concentrated on four statues who appeared to move about the most. Within the four folders she had saved out she had photographic proof that she had shot them in at least half a dozen different locations around the square. One, a tall slender striking male had even managed to appear in the park on a short column instead of his usual position beside the door of number seven. The statue of a young woman with long tumbling curls also moved from house to house. In one image she was crouching down above a doorway, almost as if she were trying to squeeze into a space too small for her, instead of standing on a wide base in a corner of the gardens.

A cold chill ran down her spine as she copied the pictures onto a flash drive. She would take them into college and show her tutor what she had uncovered.

With the images saved and the flash drive removed, she shut down the laptop and headed for bed.

Outside on the window sill, a tall slender male was crouched down watching her. He had been there all evening, as he had every other evening for a week. In the moonlight his alabaster white skin glistened.

He had repeatedly warned the others to take more care. Cautioned them against their reckless behaviour. Now, from what he had just witnessed, he knew they were all at risk. The art student had discovered their secret…or at least she thought she had. Little did she truly know.