Hello all,

I hope you don't mind me do this, this is the first draft of the first page of a new short story I am working on. I hope you enjoy it.

The Faery of Earth and Water

From the Diary of Obadiah Morticaine 24^th June 1880

It had been a troublesome day. I was bone weary and cold. I had come from the old St Mary's Chapel on the bridge and had been given my fill of edging my way through a building that had had little maintenance in three hundred years. It was a sorry medieval pile in the midst of modern soot covered brick monsters.

But it was up Duke Street in the depths of night that I found my feet leading me. They carried me over the cobbles, over the rails pitted within them, that linked the dirty, high walls. Within their confines, the dark satanic Yggdrasils still trickled black smoke into the sky, where in the day, men toiled to stoke them to bursting point, obscuring the light with sickly darkness from high windows that I could see peeking at me. They watched me along my route like some overgrown bespectacled pervert that was too afraid to move lest he give away his devious intent.

I heard the tap tap tap of my boot soles on the cobbles. I wanted any distraction from the factories that closed in around me.

I pushed on. My footsteps kept my mind focused. Much louder were they than the wind through the chimneys, than the ticking noises from machinery and engines winding down for the night, than the night-watchman doing his rounds. They were louder than the call of the owl and the ethereal whoosh of its wings. But that, I did not mind. That, I found an immense reassurance, a reminder of the days that had extended into pre-history, an eternity before these terracotta blocks that surrounded me, accumulating and pumping out filth.

I knew I had to get away from the chapel, where my business had led me into contact with a confrontation with souls willing to abuse the energy residue left by the Padley Martyrs. I know I needed to get some fresh air, to walk of the troubles that my day had given me. But why my feet had led me along this route, I had no idea. It was niggling at me, gnawing at my soul. There must be some purpose for this.

Hello all,

A bit more of an update on things. Today I had a bit of a chat with a Viking re-enactors, which was really fun and it was really nice to make such a bond over common ground. They have their own Viking history blog called Northworthy Sagas and Stories and they're based in Derbyshire. They are telling Viking myths and folklore, as well as history and fighting techniques. There is so much that they have planned.

Also, on another note, my short story that I've tentatively named the Mystics and the Maid - see my last post for a sample of this story - is coming along nicely. A new scene developed today that was totally unexpected and I hope it'll be as much a joy to read as it will be to write. It's a Penny Dreadful style ghost story set at the Old Bell in Derby. Watch out for the ghost of a maligned veteran of The Battle of Culloden.

Hello all,

Yes, I've sort of had a few ups and downs with my writing recently and I just really wanted to share this. Its the introductory part of a short story I've been working on recently. I will point out that it is a first draft, so this won't be near the point I'll feel comfortable sending out, so cue the occasional spelling mistake or cliche, but I felt that I should share something with you, so here it is, the opening part of a penny dreadful ghost story with a Gothic flavour called The Maid and The Mystics:

The Maid and the Mystics

I slumped over the dark wood bar in the Tudor Room, reached the jug down and levered a couple of gobbets of beer into it. I'm sure it would settle by the time that we were ready to drink it. We could always go back for more anyway. We'd a long standing agreement with the landlord. We'd provided a service for him many moons ago and now he had graciously provided us with a safe haven for our little monthly meetings. An undisturbed room, no staff or customers to overhear us and permission to help ourselves to drink. As long as we kept the spirits away from the spirits.

I climbed down, being careful not to slosh the beer everywhere and straightened my shirt front as I returned to our usual table beneath a faux-antique tapestry depicting a medieval hunting scene. Bragi Cartwright had his pocket watch in his stoat fist and stared intently at it through wire rimmed lenses.

“Madame Claire Smythe's late once more,” he stated and dropped the watch back into the unbuttoned scarlet waistcoat to relieve pressure from his huge stomach. “She always does this. Five minutes here. Half an hour there.” His finger started wagging at me like an irate woodpecker as I stood beside him, jug still in hand. “It's not on, I tell you. She'll only give us excuses again and it really cuts into the club meeting's itinerary.”

Bragi's once hyperactive hand reached out and clenched the corner of the dark wood table top just in time for the heavy oak door on the opposite side of the room to creak open and the mourning-dressed figure of a middle aged woman entered. She swept casually passed the maze of tightly packed chairs and tables and delicately eased herself onto the maroon cushioned pew lining one side of our table.

“Ah, I see that everyone's arrived. Once we're all sat comfortably, we can begin,” Madame Smythe said as Bragi gave me a knowing look that Smythe was oblivious to. “A port and lemon for me please Obadiah.”

I placed the jug on the table and as I passed Bragi to the 'staff only' door for access behind the bar, I rolled my eyes. He patted me on one elbow in sympathy.

Behind the bar, I struggled to find the port bottle in such a tight space, but in a handful of moments, I was splashing a dollop into the bottom of the nearest wine glass I could lay my hands on. A few more moments of searching, I found the lemon and a knife and was carving off a slice to drop into the deep liquid that matched the room's wood furnishings and panelling.

I returned to the table, placed the glass down before Madame Smythe and lowered myself into a chair opposite her. She'd raised her veil while I was pouring her drink. She looked at it, grimaced and then looked at me.

“You really must try wearing something other than that tired old black suit, my dear,” she stated. “You look like an undertaker's long deceased assistant. Now look at that.” She pointed at my elbow. “The jacket's completely worn through at the elbows, and my, I daren't even think what that dark stain on the front might be!”

“And the grey shirt front, and the fraying shirt sleeves…” I nodded my head along with each point. “You mentioned those the last time we met, and the time before that. In fact, you've mentioned them every time we've met up over the last three years. They come with my trade. They're the downside of the practical work I'm employed to do.”

Taken aback, Madame Smythe opened her mouth to berate me once more.

“Stop this nonsense at once!” Bragi's voice rumbled about the room. “The pair of you, You both go through this rigmarole every time we meet and I'm sick of it. Now, to business. Or would you both care to provide me with enough refreshments to withstand you're verbal boxing?”

Madame Smythe gulped. “You're right of course Master Cartwright.” Her breath audibly hissed as she let out a calming breath as she backed down from the argument. “We're here to cover any points of outstanding business from last month.”

Hello all,

I'm quite excited. Last night I found that the Blakiana website had had a revamp and a handful of Sexton Blake stories of old had been put up for visitor's perusal. It can be visited here.

Sexton Blake cover

There is even a twitter account that you can follow at @BLAKIANA.

There are many pages on this site regarding Sexton Blake and his adventures since 1893 as well as there being a look into Blake's adversaries and companions, his writers and all the different types of media that have documented his endeavours.

This site has been maintained for many a year by the brilliant Mark Hodder who I admire immensely and I have greatly enjoyed his two Burton and Swinburne trilogies that bring historical depth to the steampunk genre. His site can be found here.

The Strange Affair of Spring Heeled Jack by Mark Hodder

Mark Hodder has even written a Sexton Blake novel called Sexton Blake: The Silent Thunder Caper which is an excellent barn stormer of a book that I hope you will enjoy. I certainly did.

I hope that the Blakiana website will encourage you to be as big a Sexton Blake fan as I am and support the site. Sexton Blake is a partially forgotten franchise of detective stories that follow in the vein of Sherlock Holmes and I've marvelled at how Sexton Blake hasn't received the same applause despite the stories being continuously publish from 1893 to 1969.

Under Secret Orders, a Sexton Blake story

From my own potted history of Sexton Blake, follow the link here.

I hope you enjoy what you read. It would be great to see Sexton Blake's popularity rise once again. Blakiana has a Patreon page and with support, more and more original Sexton Blake stories will be able to be uploaded and with a rise in interest in Blake.

Hello,

A couple of things for you today that I wanted to share with you. The first is the first draft of a short story that I'm about to start typing up as a second draft which I'm excited about. This is the one that'll be sent out to magazines in the hope that it'll be published. If it isn't, I'll rework it and try again. Otherwise, it can always go towards an anthology. It's for an Indiana Jones pulp fiction background where German had invaded Britain after Dunkirk and where the supernatural and super science exist. It's been called The Wolf Hunter's Ride. Can you guess what supernatural gribbly beastie is on a rampage?

The Wolf Hunter's Ride, short story

Next up is the start of a novel, a fast paced military sci-fi novel, set on a volcanic world filled with underground forge shops that has been invaded by an army of degenerating alien clones who require human stem cells and DNA for their species' survival as it's key to their inadequate cloning techniques. Cue a regiment of pissed off army vets returning home, the secret police and bio-engineered super soldiers.

Finally, this one is going to perhaps be a longer writing project as its going to be especially close to my heart. It is going to be inspired by the works of M R James and Arthur Machen, as well as by Celtic fairy tales. It'll be set in a county that spans the Material World as well as the Other Realm and will be heavily influenced by hermeticism, gnosticism and alchemy and will incorporate some things from meditation and other similar things. The writing of this novel will pretty much be a spiritual excercise for me as it'll also be helping me to get my head around a few things.

This also brings me to another point. I have started a new blog. One that I will be using as a sort of spiritual diary. If you are interested in mystical things and would like to keep abreast of my thoughts on that kind of thing, you can find the link here, or on my About Thadeus Morticaine page of this very site. I will say though, that I have only recently started the blog, but there'll be plenty of things on the way.

Hello all,

I know I haven't written much up on here recently, despite my intentions to. But here's a little update. After life got in the way a touch, I have written two first drafts for short stories. One, a warning against using a cursed ancient tarot deck that one would sacrifice one's whole life to obtain; and the second, a pulp fiction style, World War Two set story about a commando that gets kidnapped for sport by a group of werewolf led brigands in the English countryside. Both will soon go through the editing stage and will be sent off to magazines with an eye towards them being published.

With that in mind, I have started writing the novel mentioned last post inspired by my love of Celtic myths and the stories of both MR James and Arthur Machen. It's taken quite a bit to research it and there'll be much more work needed on that front, but I'm sure it'll be a wondrous journey through an English county straddling the borders between our material world and the Netherworld, filled with many an eccentric character.

But, there is another novel in the pipeline as well. This will be a rip roaring sci-fi adventure storming across a frozen industrial planet, eager to repel its deformed alien clone invaders.

I have even in talks with a heavy metal band called Malleus to produce a short story or two to accompany their up and coming new album.

I am also in talks about doing some editing work for an RPG game as well.

All in all, I'll stay in touch.