lomax61

For almost an hour, I sat awake with the light on, berating myself for pushing too hard, fighting off sleep in the hope that he might return. But what could I do differently if he did? He clearly loved Patrick and felt responsible for him. And I had to wonder what had happened to his friend. Perhaps if I had pushed more gently, Alfie might have confided in me more. Had I handled the exchange poorly? I could almost hear my mother saying in her typically insensitive way that passed for humour that

That night, I stayed awake past midnight, waiting for Alfie. As strange as it seemed, I felt more anxious that he might not return. I knew I would be heavily disappointed because I had enjoyed our short conversation and wanted to know more about him. But I also felt the need to do so gently and not alarm him. To pass the time, I pulled one of the hardback books from my rucksack and sat cross-legged on the bed, flicking through the pages. An hour later, as the words on the pages had begun to beco

I have always slept fitfully. A couple of hours of undreaming sleep followed by the same period wide awake. But I slept through that night. The following morning, I woke unusually refreshed but confounded, not only at the unfamiliar surroundings but by the memory of a nighttime encounter. Warm beneath the bedcovers, I didn’t want to move, my nose already numb with cold. But after checking the time on my phone—six-thirty—my waking body insisted that I use the bathroom. Even in thick socks, the fl

I can always rely on you @drpaladin to come up with an alternative explanation. But maybe not so this time.

Yes, there is more to this story. Thank you for reading

Hello @Jacques. Quebecer or not (I am guessing, as an uneducated Brit, that means your native tongue is a variation of French), I very much appreciate your comments.

Thank you so much. Your words are very kind.

I have no idea how long I'd dozed off when a soft sound woke me. Despite the solid darkness, I sensed someone else in the room and smelled the muddy odour again. I reached a hand for the chain hanging from the wall lamp and switched on the light. Once again, the young man stood there. "Où est Patrick?" Something struck me as odd then, something that had not registered before but had been apparent. This young man pronounced French almost as dreadfully as me and with a regional Engl

With the rucksack dangling heavily from my shoulder, I alternated between walking briskly and trotting to keep up with the surprisingly agile spectre. I followed him through the town centre and out the other side into a lane of solid darkness. Stars twinkled sporadically between the silhouetted branches of tall and elegant trees, like cypresses, but more likely poplars, difficult to determine by night. A good ten minutes later, he halted outside the blanched stone archway to a walled courtyard f

Hi @shifterslover. Thank you, and yes, I need to post the next chapter of Scorched Kingdom. Let me get this short tale out there first of all.

Thank you so much, @Freemantleman.

Thanks, Gary. Been away a while, but I've kept writing. Hope you're keeping well.

On his way to Lausanne, Switzerland, for a reunion with old university friends, Robert Farrell is hoping, perhaps foolishly, to run into his ex. However, during the journey, when the coach stops in a small village in the northeast of France, Robert feels compelled to disembark and remain behind. Finding lodgings in a remote farmhouse, he encounters Alfie, the ghost of a young English soldier from the Great War, who repeatedly appears in his room at night. Neither of them understands why until Robert begins to do some research. And he soon discovers that their destinies are linked, and only they can help to reconcile each other’s futures.

Ghostly presence. I had never seriously considered the meaning of the expression. Not until my encounter in the French village of Ripont. Which was nothing like those crass but ever-popular horror films. You know, like the deathly face appearing in the bathroom mirror, or dusty standing lamps flickering inexplicably around the suddenly ice-cold living room, a quilt being drawn from the bed by an invisible hand, or the ominous shadow passing across the window of a long deserted home. Tr

I am in complete agreement with the comments above. I did think this was going to be a long, drawn-out courtroom drama but during this chapter the case comes to a satisfying end. I’m glad you’re carrying on with the story and we’re finding out more about some of the people you've introduced including Roger, Samantha and, hopefully, the ADA, Radcliffe.