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Friday, 27 December 2013

Guest Author - HH Durrant - Excerpt - Handy Man

I've decidedd to post a short teaser from HH Durrant's new novel ' Handy Man'  -  so here goes - enjoy!  If you enjoy this small taster and want more then the links to enable you to buy the ebook on on the previous post.


He was cold–bone numbingly cold, and he couldn’t work out why.  There was pain too, lots of it.  Sharp, stabbing pain that shot up and down his arm and had somehow managed to turn off the feeling in his fingers.

He turned his head, just a little, in an attempt to focus his eyes, trying to register what had happened to him.  It wasn’t good.  He was standing naked and bound to something cold and hard against a wall.  He yanked his arms against whatever was holding him, and tried to scream.  That didn’t work either, his mouth was too dry.

He rested his chin for a few seconds on his chest, desperate to make sense of it all.  His head was spinning.  He inhaled deeply, and turned to look again at the source of the pain.  This time it was easier – he could see with perfect clarity what had been done to him.  He squinted in disbelief then screamed silently into the gloom.

All the fingers of his right hand were gone.

The man dressed in white paper overalls saw the movements and looked up, momentarily distracted.  He was stood in the centre of the cellar scouring the local paper – again.  But there was still nothing.  They were useless.  In a show of disgust he threw it to the floor, and watched as the greedy newsprint soaked up the stale urine gathered in a foetid puddle under the young man’s feet. 

All his efforts had achieved nothing and they wouldn’t unless he changed tactics.  He knew that now.  Closing his eyes, he tried to reassure himself that it would be okay.   But would it?  He’d never done this sort of thing before so he was bound to make mistakes.  As far as killing went, he was a rank amateur.  He had to try harder.  He had to get it right.

“Be quiet, Ian,” he screeched at the limp, struggling figure.  “I need to think.”

He was livid with the press.  They couldn’t ignore this, he wouldn’t let them.  And as for the families, incredible as it seemed, no one had missed them yet.  Not even the thin lipped, dyed blonde who called herself Ian’s mother.

Surely someone out there must wonder what had happen to them.  Wondered why they weren’t lurking in the estate alleyways causing mayhem and dealing dope anymore.  

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.  He’d expected publicity; bags of it.  Surely the local rag should be asking questions by now?  People didn’t go missing every day, not even in this God forsaken community.  So where the hell were the headlines? 

He regarded the pathetic, naked shape in front of him.  He wanted to lash out.  After all he was to blame.  It was entirely Ian’s fault that no one had bothered to look for him.

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