This page and its companion feature snippets from a selection of the works in progress and draft stories currently in my writing folder. They form a snapshot of what I have going at this moment in time (late 2022). Some of them may be posted soon; others may never be finished. The snippets on this page belong to one of my existing universes, as marked.
A story featuring Jim’s Uncle James and set in the 1920s.
“I think you’ll find everything in order,” Tom answered.
A silence followed.
“If I find out that you’ve set foot in Luxor…”
“No, no!” Tom’s voice sounded nervous. “I doubt I’ll ever go near Luxor again in my life. I didn’t like the place, at all.”
“If I hear differently…”
“You won’t. You have my word.”
The other man laughed. “As if that’s worth anything.”
“It is worth something, Mr. Jones,” Thomas answered, with dignity. “Please believe me when I say that wild horses couldn’t drag me back to Luxor. You could say that I had a very bad experience there.”
“You’ll have a worse one if you go back on this word of yours.” A pause. “I’ll see myself out. Good day.”
The next story in the timeline (September 1998).
“I’m relying on you, you know,” Mart answered, only half-joking. “Someone’s got to keep Trixie out of trouble and I’m going to be way too far away to do it myself.”
Jim nodded. “I’m very well aware of that. I’m also very well aware that keeping Trixie out of trouble is not within my power.”
Mart’s expression turned wry. “Point taken.” He shook his head. “I didn’t notice quite how much I missed her until I saw her. I always kind of assumed that we’d always be close.”
Jim looked over at his wife. “Physically, you’ll be far apart, but I think the two of you will always be close. And you know that you’re welcome to visit us any time.”
“In that teeny, tiny house of yours,” Mart commented, with a grin. “When we have half a dozen kids each. Sounds like fun.”
“I don’t think Trixie and I are intending to have quite that many.” Jim cleared his throat. “But you do what you think is a good idea.”
Mart shook his head. “I was exaggerating, for effect.”
“Well, trust me when I say that if your sister and I somehow end up with a large family, our house will also get an extension.”
“It had better,” Mart quipped.
A future story, set in 2001.
“Jim!”
He did not respond, so Trixie poked him in the ribs.
“Wake up!”
“Hmm?”
“Listen.”
At last, he opened his eyes. “A car?”
“It’s been out there with the engine running for a couple of minutes now.”
Grunting with the effort, Jim heaved his weary body out of the bed, shrugged into his robe and plodded over to the window.
“I can only see the headlights.”
Trixie rolled her eyes even as she jumped out of bed. “What did you expect to see? And I didn’t want you to look; I wanted you to listen. That’s Dan’s car.”
A future story, sequel to Winter’s Approach, set in 2005.
Honey scrambled to her feet. “I have to call Dan. He has to know about this.”
“Hon! Slow down a minute,” Trixie called, following her friend. “I need to do this in order. First, we need to check what [name redacted] just told me against what we found out the last time. Then, if it matches reasonably well, we can call Dan. Not before. Okay? You have to trust me on this. It’s too important to get wrong.”
“He has to know that we have a lead,” Honey whispered. “He needs to know.”
“It’ll only be for an hour or two,” Trixie wheedled. “We can keep it a secret that long, can’t we? An hour won’t hurt.”
Honey looked like she would argue further, then broke into rueful laughter. “Looks like we’ve reversed roles for once.”
Trixie nodded. “You have to trust me, Hon. I need to tread really carefully here and not make a mistake. If I get this wrong, it could really hurt Dan. You don’t want to risk that, do you?”
“Okay,” Honey conceded.
A story of the more distant future, set in roughly 2017.
“What’s wrong, Trixie?’ her mother asked, once Alicia had left the room.
Trixie began to arrange some of the documents. “I don’t know if I should tell her,” she whispered. “Just look.”
Helen examined the three certificates, taking care to note the information that Trixie pointed to. She gasped.
“But that can’t be right!”
“Shh!” Trixie urged. “I don’t want her to come in here and see this. If she’s going to know, someone should break it to her gently.”
“But, Trixie, how can this be true?”
A sequel to the existing story, set shortly afterwards (i.e. 2006).
“How is the most beautiful woman in the world today?” Mart asked, kissing her cheek.
Di let out another sigh. “Tired. Lonely. Frustrated. I never seem to get anything done at all, no matter how much I work at it.”
“And I’m not really helping all that much, am I?” he asked, a guilty look on his face. “What do you need me to do? I guess I could tidy the bedroom before lunch…”
“Don’t you dare,” she replied, tears welling in her eyes. “You’re staying right here with me. Right now, I don’t care if the mess in the bedroom piles up to the ceiling, so long as I don’t have to be alone.”
The door swung open in a rather violent fashion just then to admit Trixie. She slammed it behind her, before making her way across to the pair on the sofa.
“I just saw the strangest thing on the way home from work today,” she told them, dropping heavily beside them.
A parallel story to the Dark Places universe.
“Honey.” Her fiancé’s voice sounded weary and just a trifle stressed. “Is this a bad time?”
“We’re in the middle of a movie, but it’s okay,” she answered, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Bad day?”
“What? No, no.”
A male voice in the background asked, “Is that her? Is it okay?”
“Is someone there with you?” Honey wondered.
“He’s talking to someone else. Listen, I don’t have much time, but I wanted to make sure that we’re still on for dinner with your parents tomorrow evening. There’s something I really need to discuss with your father.”
“Of course we’re still on. Why wouldn’t we be?”
“I just really need to talk to him,” he answered. His voice dropped to a rough whisper. “And I want to see you. I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too. Love you.”
“Love you, too. See you tomorrow.”
The tone sounded in her ear. She gazed at the phone for a moment. Something about that conversation gave her an uneasy feeling. After only a moment’s thought she came to the conclusion that it was the voice in the background – and [his] dismissal of her concerns. Whatever he had told her, she was sure that the man had been talking about her.
Another parallel story to the Dark Places universe, sequel to the above.
“I know you’re there,” she told him, in a low voice, barely more than a whisper.
She saw him shift, but he did not answer.
“There are things we need to know; things we want to say to you.”
“I don’t want to talk to you,” he answered, his voice low and harsh.
“Well, what are you going to do? Run away like a little girl?”
His face turned aside and he made a noise that might have been a laugh.
“We’re not the enemy,” she went on.
“I know that. But it’s not that simple.”
Trixie rolled her eyes. “I’m not saying it is. I only want the chance to talk things through. You can’t keep running away from me like this.”
“I wouldn’t need to if you stopped chasing me.”
An unfinished sequel to Fractured.
“Ugh! What is it this time?” Trixie demanded, without opening her eyes. “Don’t you know I’ve only just gotten to sleep?”
“At six-thirty in the morning?”
Trixie’s eyes opened wide and she sat up in alarm. “Six-thirty!”
“Hey! Keep it down. It’s one in the morning, don’t you know. You don’t want to wake your family.”
“Dan!” She thumped back down onto the pillow. “Go away. You can come back when it’s actually six-thirty. But not into my actual bedroom, which I would find really difficult to explain to my actual mother.”
“Then you don’t want to know about the mystery?”
“You’re just saying that to try to make me stay awake.”
“I wish I was, but no.”
The second story in this mini-universe.
“Who else is going to be at this picnic?” Win asked, some time later.
Jim glanced at him in surprise. “She didn’t say. Does it matter?”
“It matters if I’m there as the only older person among a bunch of teenagers.”
“I’m twenty!”
“That’s near enough as makes no difference.”
“No, it isn’t.” Jim let out an exasperated sigh. “But I’ll find out, if it’s so important to you.”
The third story in this mini-universe.
“Callista,” he greeted, trying to appear regretful. “I was just leaving. What a pity you’ve arrived just now. I hope you haven’t come far out of your way.”
“I was actually hoping to see Jim,” that young man’s ex-girlfriend replied, unperturbed. “If you would like to go and get him…”
She cast a look of distaste at the exterior of the house and Win knew that she would not wish to enter. Her immaculate clothes, so fresh from the boutique that he would not be surprised to see the swing tags still attached, were not at all suited to the dingy, dirty old house. No, I would not like to get him, he thought, but I’m not going to lie to her, either. Reluctantly, he reopened the door and went looking for his son. He found Jim in the living room.
“You have a visitor, Jim.” He considered a moment before adding his own opinion. “Though, if I were you, I’d sneak out the back door while she’s not looking.”
A future story in this mini-universe.
“You were in very late last night, Dad,” Jim noted mildly at breakfast the following morning. “Did you have a good time?”
For a moment, Win wondered how his son had ever put up with those sorts of questions the morning after a first date. Heard from the other side, it seemed an unbearable intrusion, despite the minimal interest that Jim was actually showing.
“It’s a very nice restaurant,” he replied vaguely.
