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I am a writer of novels, plays and film scripts. I live in Manchester England with my partner Andy and our teenage son Jack. Andy and I started my Newsletter Raw Meat and began publishing with Rawprintz in 1999 to showcase my work. Some of you may be confused by my continual references to Ziggy, that’s my wheelchair! Both Andy and I are writers. I’ve recently lost my sight – hence the continual reference to my being confused! Thanks for visiting.

My Comrades...


Writer's Island The Key

Here follows my offering in response to the Writer's Island theme of ' The Key'.
The tiny figure of Alice stared up at the glass table towering way over her head, and frowned.
So what the hell do I do now? she said to herself. All around her the darkness of the gloom of the underground tunnel yawned and smothered... the feint rustling of leaves shifting on the ground was just audible, though only just - it might easily have been her imagination. Behind her she was aware of the secret door in the wall of the tunnel... the secret door she was longing to open. It shone with a strange unreal brightness which seemed to come from nowhere Alice could see, and the brightness became golden, golden as a summer's afternoon. Still she frowned up at the key outlined, enticingly through the glass of the table as it was. That key must open the door... but how am I meant to reach it? thought Alice to herself, wondering over to the leg of the table. She looked at its slippery surface and touched the cold glass of it, weighing up the possibility of climbing up. She stood back and ran at it, jumping as high as she could and trying to cling to the glass legs, desperately clawing and trying to grip, but it was no good. She kept on slipping back down again and again, until finally she sat back on the ground, wiping the sweat from her face and feeling the long strand of her fair hair clinging to her forehead. Finally she laid down, staring up at the key, unreachable as it was.
So what now? Alice thought to herself as she lay back and watched the key. Well... if I can't reach it physically, why not try a little mind control? I've often heard my father talk about such things... so why not give it a try now?
So she stared at the key and stared and stared, willing it to move ... to move just a little, just a little... the golden key, to the golden door. She could make it move, slowly but surely it inched across the glass table towards the edge. At last the key was directly above her - she stared at it, not believing what she had just done. The powers of mind control! She lay on her back raising her arms to receive the gift from above... the golden key. For now it was hanging half over the edge of the glass table, and was swaying on the exact point of balance... still Alice stared up at it, feeling slightly proud.
What do I do when it hits me? It'll kill me!
Alice thought to herself. But could not move, as she watched numbly the key tipped and began to fall slowly towards her.

If you'd like to read more of my work, I'm currently serialising my novel The Spark on this Weblog and would welcome your comments on it.


  1. Hi Nic, nicely written - don't you just love Alice?

  2. Great story well written I could do with some mind control myself.

  3. This is spot on, Nic - concise enough to read and appreciate, and leaving us wanting more...
    Great stuff.

  4. loved this Alice story. I hope she got out of the way!

  5. Not a cliffhanger but a keyhanger! Fingers crossed that Alice has the presence of mind to move herself!

  6. keyhanger your site...will foow it...thanks for sharing...take care


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