Category Archives: Blog

Mahjong Dragon – Book Downloads

Result of Free e-book downloads.

So far there has been 200 reads over the weekend, for me I am honoured.

Thank you to everyone, and I trust you have enjoyed the read.

Russell Holmes Glasgow 002

The Mahjong Dragons

Let me know how you got on and if you feel inclined post some wild comments on Amazon or even Goodreads; or just a few comments here. I am not looking for praise, (well, I am really). However, your honest opinions on the stories and writing are very welcome.

Many thanks.

 

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Free eBook from Friday to Tuesday

My book is FREE on Amazon from tomorrow Friday 20th July.
Until Tuesday 24th July Midnight – Midnight? -it’s the way amazon does this.

“A brisk walk in the Botanic Gardens before breakfast stimulates the mind for a good murder.’

This is not Sherlock Holmes, but I challenge you to not think about him as you read the stories.
Read the reviews on Amazon and Goodreads. I am biased when I say these stories are great entertainment – please let me know how you get on.

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The Case of The Mahjong Dragon 

The Paperback is available for loan through the British Library.

 

The Trappist Zone

Friday Fictioneers

dawn-in-montreal

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

The Trappist Zone

George, the transporter is landing.
Will I miss this place?
We did our best George, we must start over, a new beginning.
I feel a failure; all the destruction and greed.
Oh, George, remember the woolly mammoth.
Downhill since then. Where did we go wrong?
We gave them dreams and intelligence. Our experiment had potential.
Yes, we did very well, but should we just abandon them?
It’s too late, they are out of control; a self-consuming infestation.
George, the bag?
Yes, all human goodness, fully packed.
Think of our next creation; “Mensch”.
A perfect ideal; the Trappist Zone is ready.

Nightmare in the City

Friday Fictioneers

caged-liz

PHOTO PROMPT © Liz Young

Nightmare in the City.

I am not sleeping, who does?
Robotically, I am on the train at six am, and transfer to the tube. I stop at Costa’s, the girl who serves is an Android on a vocal loop.
I sit at my station at exactly nine am.
Nothing happens.
At twelve pm the Android serves reconstituted Panini.
Nothing happens.
At five pm I catch the tube then, I am on the train again at six am.
I’m not asleep; the rat catcher won’t trap me.
The race is on and the Costa Android winks. She feeds dirty rats in the city.
Nothing happens.

Invisible

Friday Fictioneers

leg-up-jhc

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

Invisible.

Do you appreciate how I enhance your life? Providing miracles as if done by magical hands, as an unsung hero I work to deliver your dreams and sooth away the mayhem of your hopeless stress.

I’d laugh with joy and happiness as you open my gifts, and even sit up with you through the nights to nurse away your fever and flu. Do you notice?

The explosion took my leg during the marathon, but now all you see is the prosthetic and sigh with pity.

Yet, I have not changed and remain the same; your loving, unappreciated invisible man.

 

 

 

Endangered Species

Friday Fictioneers

meep-by-the-window

PHOTO PROMPT © Jean L. Hays

Endangered Species

It was hot and stuffy hiding in the cellar and after days of waiting Marcie saw one.
It sauntered past, composed, confident and majestic in a fine metallic plumage.
Marcie and Mary shuddered, the trap was set.
The Pheasant paced back and forth guarding the building, it had alerted Species Control about the find. Hurry, it had reported, before the humans attempt an escape.
Mary gripped Marcie’s hand, to stop her shaking. Why did these giant Pheasants find female flesh such an addictive delicacy?
Worse; why had they volunteered to bait them?
A man’s idea! The last women on Earth.

 

Unrequited Love

Friday Fictioneers

 

dadsshoes

PHOTO PROMPT submitted by Courtney Wright. © Photographer prefers to remain anonymous.Friday Fictioneers

Unrequited Love
Oh Janice, why are you here? I’ll let you rest, I’ll let you be.
Let me massage your weary feet, as you tell me where you have been.
You slept in ditches beneath hedgerows and counted stars to help you sleep.
You’ve travel through forests and barren deserts, while dreaming of my warmth.
You swam the Zambezi? – No! – I didn’t abandon you, look you are here now.
You cannot live without me and have travelled the world for my love.
Here let me make you chicken soup and then a soapy bath.
What now? Sorry, Janice, I never loved you.

Psycho Creek

Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Friday Fictioneers

k-rawson

PHOTO PROMPT © Karen Rawson

Psycho Creek

Where ‘re you going Norman.
Mother, I’m getting firewood, it’s cold.
Norman! don’t be going into the creek, to them hussy girls.
Mother! There ain’t no girls. Not since —
I’m just saying Norman, they did no good.
Why can’t I Mother, why can’t I . . . just once, Mother?
I don’t want hussys in our house Norman. Don’t you love me?
Yes Mother. Here’s your steak, as we like it.
Three plates? Norman you’ve got a hussy I want her out! out!
She’s gone, Mother, she’s in the creek.
Good boy, Norman.
Mother, I’ll fetch us the steak knife.

Silicon Valley

 

Friday Fictioneers

mt-lemmon-with-tree-1

PHOTO PROMPT © Jan Wayne Fields

Silicon Valley

What a fantastic view, Holmes

Look Watson! the original tree of life and knowledge.

Too late, Holmes, it has withered and died.

Nonsense, we will transport it anew into the valley.

I wonder if the Tequila and Mexican stink-weed has sent Holmes deep into lunacy.

Can’t you see, Holmes, the land is dry, nothing grows.

Silicon ,Watson, from which man will build our future. This tree is the inspiration for generations to build my time machine, bit by bit.

It’s the heat, Holmes, have some water.

From Silicon Valley through the ‘Gates of Time’, I will find the elusive Doctor.

The Return

News Flash – My short story Lilly-Anne has just been published on literally Stories a world wide short story site. Your views and comments are appreciated.

Lilly Anne – by James McEwan

*****

Friday Fictioneers   (slightly late this week, enjoy)

photoa

PHOTO PROMPT © Yarnspinnerr

The Return.

Shrouded in monsoon mist along the Chakkar Road, Jazlaan viewed the ruined and dilapidated house. Seventy years ago, Partition had driven her family away. 

Still, in the kitchen, she smelled the warmth of cardamom and cinnamon sizzling in ghee and heard echoes of children lamenting in Urdu. Dust, like Chapatti flour, covered over the floors.

Mould consumed damp walls, the moths her gowns. What wealth and chattels she saved were left to grandchildren now, or burned on her pyre. The silver blacken mirror on the wall reflected her joy as she brushed her gossamer hair. 

Her spirit was home.