It has been a while. Okay. Quick update for you wonderful people. Where to begin…

A good place to start would be to talk about schedules. From here on out I will be posting an article every Wednesday to this website. I will be posting an article to my gaming focused website: Pixel Fang Gaming every Friday too. Oh, and I am attempting to stream on Twitch Tuesdays and Thursdays at 9pm UK time (search for FireWolfFred).

On more general terms, I have a lot of plans floating around at the moment that I hope I can speak of soon as things come together. We will just have to wait and see. I can say though that I am in the final stages of editing In Death’s Shadow (hopefully!) and will be sending it off to agents as soon as I am fully happy with it. It has been a long time coming and I’m growing increasingly nervous and self-conscious the closer it gets.

Also, since I feel that a basic update isn’t enough, I am adding a short introduction to a story that I started to write in a local workshop. It was organised by the people at Hive and gave young writers an opportunity to speak with published authors Simon Bestwick and KT Davis. It is written in the old gothic style of Lovecraft’s work. It isn’t much so far but I enjoyed writing it. I hope you also enjoy reading it.

I knew not the history of the place, nor did I really care. Back then it was a simple playground, a secret hideaway where we could indulge in our childhood fantasies of adventure and wondrous imagination.

The old building was impossible to see until you stumbled out from the tangle of thorns that surrounded it. It sat in untamed woodland in a large divot where the earth had sunken down at some point. Judging by the state of the house, it had been present during this geographical shift.

I remember my first encounter with the place vividly even now. Despite all that I know, it still stirs fondness within me. I had found it while wandering the woods shortly after my move to the Hindhelby area. It had been my tenth birthday yet my parents had been preoccupied by pressing matters and I had yet to form any bonds of friendship with the children of the new town.

There had been a sound, a queer confusion of songlike wind that drew me deeper. Then there had been a bird, a raven by my guess, cursed with albino pigmentation yet seemingly thriving among the overgrown woods. Its cawing was softer and sweeter than most and it instantly fascinated me. A keen intelligence seemed to lie beyond its crimson eyes. I had offered it a berry that the bird took without hesitation. It did not eat it though. Instead, it hopped through the undergrowth, occasionally twisting back its head as though urging me to follow. So, of course, I did follow it.


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