Tag: humour

‘Grey Nomad’ – early eBook release!

The paperback version of my sci-fi novel ‘Grey Nomad’ is due for release in early 2023, but you don’t have to wait that long — the publisher has released the eBook version ahead of schedule!

Here’s a taster….

‘There, turn left,’ she shouted. ‘Left!’

The caravan hit the side of the road in a grinding flurry of gravel, and grit strafed the windscreen. Bruce wrestled with the steering wheel to stop them rolling. With a jolt, Joyce’s head hit the rest as the car stopped. Dust swirled and only the clatter of her knitting needles falling to the floor rattled the sudden silence.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing, shouting at me like that?’ he roared. ‘I don’t know what’s got into you lately.’

‘You missed the turn, that’s what,’ Joyce said tersely. ‘The sign was huge—“Viridian Spaceship” in letters as high as a house. How did you miss it?’

Even if you don’t usually read science fiction, I think you’ll enjoy reading this story of Joyce, a stalwart member of the Country Women’s Association, who at seventy years of age gets abducted by aliens and thrust into the middle of an intragalactic war that threatens Earth. You may have heard of the genre of ‘cosy crime’ – well, I think I may just have written a ‘cosy sci-fi’ book. Alternatively, my editor jokes that ‘Grey Nomad’ is a coming-of-age story!

Anyhow, I’d love you to read my novel – if you like it, then it would be really great if you wrote a review for it on Goodreads, and/or on the site from which you downloaded the book (Apple books, Booktopia, Google Play, Kindle, or Kobo).

Alison

Covid Corpse*

‘And another death at Sea Vista Nursing Home,’ Inspector Bill Taylor said, reaching for the hand sanitiser as he finished up the morning briefing.

Sarah Ryan and her fellow officers began to rise from their scattered seats, giving a perfunctory groan. In these days of COVID-19, one more death in a nursing home — even one that had been so hard hit as Sea Vista — wasn’t news. And besides, thought Sarah, it was just another old person.

‘Sergeant Ryan,’ the Inspector beckoned her over. ‘This one needs a quick look-see.’

Sarah approached only as far as the mandated 1.5 metre mark. She knew how germ-phobic the Inspector was at the best of times. The betting pool was growing that he’d be wearing a full hazmat suit to work by the month’s end.

‘The one at Sea Vista? Why me?’ Sarah tried to make her question sound less of a whine. It wasn’t the risk of catching the virus. It was the smell. ‘I mean, Jack’s free.’ She gestured futilely in the direction of her colleague as he made a speedy exit.

‘As are you,’ said Inspector Bill Taylor,  ‘And besides, you need the experience. You haven’t done a possible homicide yet, have you? They’ve got themselves a body in the library. The bloke’s heart probably just gave out. I wouldn’t be bothered usually, let alone now with them all going down like nine-pins,’ the Inspector said, continuing to work the sanitiser into his chafed hands.

At the mention of homicide, Sarah’s rising rebellion stuck somewhere in the region of her throat. She took a deep breath. Her heart was pounding uncomfortably as if her ribs were closing in. Stop being ridiculous, she told herself. It’s just the smell. Come on, it’s not as if you haven’t smelled worse.

It didn’t help.

It wasn’t just the smell. The cold chicken flesh of the hand gripping hers.

 ‘But the Superintendent’s fielding complaints from some nutter whose mother’s in there,’ he continued. ‘Keeps threatening to go to the press about a serial mercy killer on the loose. But look, don’t go getting ideas, just focus on the body in the library. Take some statements, do the report and keep the media off our backs. You’re good with the oldies. Wasn’t that grandmother of yours in a home?’

The words hung uncomfortably in the air between them.

The fug of soiled sheets. Windows grimed with years of stale air. The rasping laboured rattle of death.

Sarah turned on her heel to go. There was no point in arguing. She’d go in, talk to the manager, have a quick look and be out of there before the day’s end. No need to talk to anyone of the old people. They’d likely all be demented anyway.

‘Oh, one more thing,’ said the Inspector. ‘There’s a no visitor rule. COVID safety and all that. If you need more than a day, then you’ll be there overnight. Pack a bag.’

* (I’m very pleased to announce that this story of mine won first prize in the Wyong Writers pandemic short story competition, December 2020)