Thursday 21 January 2021

Well, it's been a while...

 Hello, lovely readers,


It has been quite sometime since this blog had any of my attention; I have gone through a divorce, been single for a year, entered a relationship and had a second child since last posting. 

Oh, how much can change.

I also have released a novella called Do You Remember? The Complete Dark Evoke Series has made its way to amazon, and I'm currently working on my sixth novel, Ouroboros, which I am hoping for a mid 2021 release - I'll keep you posted on that one.


My hope is to give this blog a new lease of life and post once a week...that's the plan anyway.


So, to kick off the new era, and as a sorry for not posting for so long, I'm posting the first two chapters of Do You Remember? Which you can find below. (Do You Remember? And The Complete Dark Evoke Series can be found on amazon for only 77p/99c).


So with that, I hope you enjoy Haven and Wyatt's story and I'll check in again soon.


Chapter One

The Dark Knight…


I feel like I’m spinning down a never-ending chasm, when I think of everything that I want to say to you – a chasm so vast, and bursting with boundless memories that I don’t even know where to begin. 

So, I thought I would write everything down and just alter it afterwards.

You know how I am with words. I can’t just say them, writing them down helps it flow better for me.

Do you remember the day we first met?

I do…

                                     ***

There was a stampede of students making their way from second to third period down the hallways of Emory High, Los Angeles. The greater part of two thousand, five hundred students roamed the corridors and grounds at the exact same time like ants in a maze. Contained by the barren white walls of the building, people were finding themselves either getting knocked from left to right by the commotion of sweaty teens getting stuff from their lockers, or gathering by them to have their important gossip.

I was twisting the combination lock when Billy Jackson knocked my books out of my hand, sending them to their paving stoned fate for the remaining stampeding, over-hormonal teens.

“Fuck off, Billy, you stupid asshole!”

“Oooo,” he mocked. “Watch out lads; Haven Monroe is on her monthly.” His cronies laughed and pointed before playfully jabbing each other in the arms. They’d be fuck all without their ringleader. Sheeple, all of them.

He took steps closer towards me until my back was pressing against the cold steel of my locker, which was filled with nothing less than photographs of the sheer perfection of a certain Matt Bomer. “You bite me, baby, I’ll bite you right back.” His warm breath bathed my face as he murmured his words in a proximity which was far too intrusive by anyone’s standards. His eyes drifted over me like a predator appraising his meal, or an alcoholic eyeing up a fifth of whiskey.

“You really think you’re God’s gift to women, don’t you?”

“I don’t think, baby, I know. All it takes is for you to say yes and you know I’d take Haven to Heaven…” He opened his arms like he was ascending as some ‘sex-god’, to another earthly plane.

Typical of Billy Jackson. I was sure he’d bedded the entire junior year already, and just prayed he wouldn’t decide to feast off the sophomores when he had his fill. The way his beady eyes leered over me and the smug curl of his upper lip… it made the blood which warmed my veins solidify and turned my body just as rigid.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Fisting his soccer shirt, I pulled him down to me so I could whisper in his ear. He chuckled, obviously thinking he was getting lucky. “I am not interested in you.”

“Every girl is interested in me, baby.”

“That’s the difference, Billy. They’re girls; they crave that attention. I’m a woman who is comfortable in her own skin and was lucky enough to have been taught the value of her self-worth.” Billy may not have realized it, but the creases that formed on his forehead and the flesh which crinkled together between his bushy eyebrows revealed his confusion. “Do you know what that means, Billy? It means that I have self-respect and I don’t crave the idea of contracting genital herpes from you.”

The confusion he carried with my words dissolved and I immediately found myself studying his eyes as they went from hazel to black within a matter of seconds. His pupils dilated, and his breathing increased, not to mention the tightening of his jaw as his puppets jeered and ridiculed from beyond the shoulder of their master.

Still, I held my head high and continued smiling at my verbal triumph. When his hand lifted, and he slammed the locker to the left of my head, I jolted, sending my smile fading along with my confidence.

A voice calling, “Hey,” grasped at my attention. As you appeared over Billy’s right shoulder, it was you that promptly held the heart of my rapt attention. Your near jet black hair was styled wildly, your silver jewelry shining in the light which streamed in from the glass double doors at the end of the hallway. I’m not going to lie; the Nirvana rocker shirt and insanely loose, black denim pants you wore did nothing for you. In fact, my first impressions screamed that you would be the class of 2005 recluse. “You okay?” you asked me, ignoring the arm that was acting as a barricade between us.

“She’s fine!”

“I didn’t ask you.” Melting the icy glare which seemingly halted his menacing tracks, you turned your focus from Billy to me and asked again.

I remember the look you gave Jackson just after I nodded. Inwardly, I couldn’t stop giggling. It was one of those, ‘You can’t afford to be late, so you better fuck off to class’ kind of looks. Deep down Billy must have known how true that unspoken statement was because, with a degree of resignation, he lowered his arm, turned on his heel, then headed to class with his followers, playfully placing one into a testosterone-fueled headlock as they did so.

“You sure you’re okay?”

I took a deep breath and tried so hard to make my mouth form one simple word, but your eyes… you looked at me with that one piercing blue eye, the other bright golden, and I knew right then and there that I would always be your willing slave. Feeling that draw that they had on me for the first time… well, you know how they affect me…

When my mind and mouth still refused to communicate, you lifted your hand, set it on my shoulder then flashed a smile that I could only describe as breathtakingly innocent yet secretly roguish.

“I’ll be okay. Thank you, umm…”

“Wyatt, Wyatt Epson.”

“Haven Monroe.” I began walking down the less bustling corridor with you at my side, your hands resting loosely in your overly large pockets. “I haven’t seen you around before…”

“I’ve just transferred in from Chicago. We move around a lot what with my dad and brother being in the military.”

My eyes widened. “Wow, I have big respect for all the servicemen fighting for our country.”

I’d known you for less than five minutes, but I saw it right then, that flicker in your eye, the pride in your smile. “Thanks,” you nodded as we continued to dawdle to third period.

“So, Chicago? I love that movie.” I mentally kicked myself and rolled my eyes the moment those words left my lips.

What was I thinking?

Then I heard that deep and raspy chuckle you made, and for some reason, it created a feeling that was alien to me. It was like a kaleidoscope of butterflies deep in the pit of my gut. When I looked up at you, your tongue caressed the titanium hoop of your lowbret piercing as that breathtaking smile gave way for an almost timid, clandestine gaze. “I can’t say I’ve seen it myself. I’m more of a hopeless romantic type of guy, but don’t tell anyone. I may have to kill you if you do…”

                                       ***

“Haven? Haven, are you in there?”

“Why can’t people just leave me alone?” I muttered to myself on a lengthy sigh. “Yes, Mom, where else would I be?” From the mirrored dressing table, I watched the reflection of the door being slowly pushed open.

“I brought you some tea.”

“I don’t want tea. I don’t want coffee. The only thing I want is to be left alone, so I can concentrate,” I snapped, the paper covered in a less than perfect italic script receiving the brunt end of my frustration, in the form of harsh flicks issued by the tip of my pen.

My mother made her way to my side, tucked her bobbed brown hair behind her ear and studied the words from behind me with immense concentration. A small sigh followed when her focus upon the blue ink was broken, and setting her hand on my shoulder; she kissed my head. “Whatever you write, you know he will love it. Just let it come from the heart, angel.”

“I know. Thank you.”

With a gradual force, my shoulder was squeezed and then released as she turned to the door, her heels clicking on the hardwood flooring. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me,” were her parting words.

The last thing I saw was the white, artex ceiling as I tipped my head back, sucked in a deep, stable breath then closed my eyes. One blue and one golden iris materialized in my mind’s eye. And under my breastbone, my heart pounded fiercely with a burning heat at its core as I witnessed your magnificent smile grow in my mind’s eye into one bursting with shyness.

I remembered the first time I saw the expression which never failed to wrap me around your little finger…

With a smile, I picked up the pen again…

Chapter Two

Dying of Embarrassment…


“Morning, class. Settle down please and open your text books to page three hundred and forty-two…”

I was flipping through my textbook to the correct page when a note was handed to me from my right. Confused, I frowned at you, barely acknowledging one of the cheerleaders squealing from the front of class.

“Oh, my God… that rat is disgusting. I can’t be looking at that.”

“Get used to it, Lou-Lou, this semester we’ll be studying The Black Death…”

Over the girlish hysteria and student banter in the room, you mouthed the words, “Open it.”

From between my icy fingertips, which never successfully warmed before third period, I unfolded the white lined sheet and silently read the words that were staring back at me.

I need to ask you something.

Expecting to read something a little broader in topic from one of the most intelligent people I knew, I flipped the paper over. With no trace of anything further on the paper, I tossed you a look and removed the tip of my pen from my teeth.

Okay. Shoot…

I was focusing on Ms. Calendar resting against her oak desk with the history textbook in her hands when I heard your throat clear. Opting for nonchalance, I glanced down, taking the note again.

I’m really nervous, though…

Licking my lips, I shook my head and rolled my eyes. Men.

And we’re going to get into so much shit if we get caught not taking actual notes on these killer rats… Just ask me…

You snorted, then a few seconds later handed the paper back.

It was the fleas, not the rats…

It was when I peeked over at you with a faux scowl as you smirked at my lack of historical knowledge when our game was up. We were finally caught…

“Mr. Epson.”

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath, intently watching Ms. Calendar staring unabashed and unamused in our direction. And she wasn’t the only one. The twenty-something other students were also casting their prying eyes on us. I felt like the main attraction at some circus sideshow. If there was one thing that I hated, it was being the center of attention.

“I’m sure you don’t find the death of fifty million people amusing?”

“No, Ma’am…”

“Good. Now considering you weren’t listening to the only person in this room with a greater understanding of the historic world than you, you can read the first three paragraphs. Aloud.”

You had taken a deep breath and lifted those sexy black- framed glasses onto your face, then began to read. The Plague was horrific, and some of the details in those three paragraphs alone were just as horrifying. But your voice… it was simple… Wyatt Epson, in my opinion, you could make anything sound sexy with that deep, husky voice of yours. I made a mental note to hand you a candy wrapper and simply read out the ingredients for me. Sheer voice porn, that’s what it was.

Ms. Calendar nodded her approval as you finished, then continued teaching the class as we continued with our clandestine conversation.

Tomato, tomatoe…

What do you want to ask me?

Blindly and inconspicuously handing the note to my right, I jolted as the paper was snatched from out of my fingertips. When I risked a glance behind me, I was met by the smug- looking football player. The immature bastard. “Billy, give that back,” I hissed.

However, he refused to listen. I guess with being the center field for Emery; he had some form of status to uphold for all those who cared about trivial outlooks such as high school socialites. I guess with his prowess, deserved or undeserved, on the football field, he figured he could do what he wanted. Seeing me flustered and wrestling over the desk for the note simply egged him on.

“Ms. Calendar, Wyatt and Haven have been passing notes to each other.”

For fuck sake… When did we get transported back to kindergarten?

Seemingly embarrassed, I dropped my head and wished that a hole would materialize out of space and time to swallow me up and save me the humiliation which was gnawing on me like a Pitbull with a bone.

“Really?” she questioned. The sound of the heavy book slamming shut ricocheted around the class. “Well,”–she folded her arms and crossed her ankles– “what’s more important than my class?”

“Nothing.”

“Apparently, Wyatt wants to ask her something,” the frustratingly haughty voice spoke from behind me again. Had I not possessed a greater level of poise, I would have climbed over that desk and gladly rammed his face into it.

“Go ahead, Mr Epson. I’ve stopped my class especially for you and Miss Monroe. Ask away; we’re all dying to know.”

Fleeting moments passed with the room falling into a deathly silence. It was when the chattering and heckling ensued soon after, that I glanced over and watched as you slipped your glasses from the bridge of your nose. Your hand fisted through your insanely attractive deep brown hair. So deep it was practically jet black. The silver, gothic chain which hung from the belt loop of your black pants, and trailed into the overly large, knee pocket jangled as you turned in your seat. My focal point was drawn to high- set cheekbones and a sturdy, enticing jawline, while the glinting, purple hoop of your piercing was a contrast against your pale complexion and the reddishness of your lower lip.

Our fellow classmates’ tiresome heckling sounded muffled, almost inaudible, as I once again found myself being torn from reality, and lead astray into the mystery which lay beyond the depths of your eyes.

“We’re waiting…”

I suddenly felt like I was the only girl in that class the way I happened to be the main point of your attention. No, not the class; you made me feel like I was the only girl in the world and that filled my heart with both pleasure and fear.

Flashing a shy, boyish smile, you tugged lightly on the metal resting on your lip before leaning further over the walkway separating the single person desks, and grabbing my hand. “Haven, I’m sorry. I don’t want to embarrass you, and I certainly don’t want to embarrass myself.”

“What is it, Wyatt?”

“I was wondering if I could take you out sometime… on a…” you blushed fifty shades of red then lifted your shoulders and squinted your eyes as though you were in the boxing ring waiting for a knockout blow. “Date?”

A collective of laughter, catcalls and whistles erupted in the room. Yet, I was so enthralled by you. By the way, my hand felt protected in the warmth of your own, the way I once again, for the millionth time, managed to get lost in your eyes. That the room disintegrated around us, taking not only the magnolia painted walls and turning them to rubble, but taking the students and turning them to ashes around us.

“Say something, Haven…”

I remember gradually caving into a smile because what you didn’t know was that for months my head was screaming those exact words at you, I just couldn’t muster the courage to risk rejection or ruining a friendship which came but only once in a lifetime. “I’d like that,” I finally muttered on a nervous breath. “I’d like that a lot.”

It was strange the feeling which I succumbed to when you mumbled that it was a date. It bubbled inside of me, tiny bubbles filling up with a warmth I had only ever heard described in romance novels. I don’t know what it was, but it was addictive.

Taking possession of the textbook from behind her, Ms. Calendar stated something about getting back to 1348 while Billy whining about ‘the weirdo’s always getting the hot chicks’ antagonized me somewhat.

Nevertheless, seeing that expression on your face – it looked like you’d just won the lottery– was enough to rid me of any lingering anger at Billy.

                                       ***

Recalling those memories, my hand frantically slithered across the lined parchment, sending tiny tingles through the underside of my palm. I dropped the pen and, like second nature clicked my knuckles.

“I’m sorry…” I smiled at your ‘what do you think you’re doing?’ look which you were burning into me from the mirrored frame on the dresser ahead. You weren’t the type of guy to get squeamish easily; that I knew from experience. But one crunch or pop from my knuckles and your fingers would be in your ears, your random tones of distraction hummed like a six-year-old child feigning disinterest.

I giggled lightheartedly, pressing my back against the padded seat whilst I attempted to roll the stiffness from my neck.

Licking my lips, I caved to a sigh.

Do you remember our first date, Wyatt? I remember… parts anyway…

On the chair, I inched to the edge and recovered the pen…