Would it be Nice

It would be nice to feel the sand under my feet

it would be nice to watch the clouds in the sky

and it would be nice if we could meet

and maybe not to spend any time to cry


would it be nice

or would it be wrong

if we could skate on ice

or just accept that we belong


it would be nice to see everything

perhaps never seeing anything

or just let it breeze away like nothing

at all had existed in my heart these days


would it be nice I used to ask

all I had to ask for, would it be.

Burgers are Sluts

She sits opposite me in this leather booth. The restaurant is fairly busy, waiters and waitresses flock from table to table, taking orders, delivering drinks and food and gossiping about social media nonsense. I daren’t reveal to this brunette bombshell that I am vegan, after she took the leap to tell me on the way here. “I’m vegan,” she had said. I didn’t want to share my intimate life details or let her feel some connection, because honestly, the whole date was a big set up. I’d agreed to this after being paired with this lady by a friend. Yeah, she was okay, she chatted a lot about family and decided to tell me about her recently holiday with her ‘girlfriends.’ Not that I was bothered though.

But… the waiter came over and I knew there was no way for me to hide my diet preference, and that was all it was, a way to stay slim and healthy. I don’t care about animal activism. I’d rather let her do all the talking, but I have to throw in the occasional question to sound interested. “Been there before?” She’s forgotten her own holiday already, and she talked about it for like 20 minutes. The waiter hovers over our table, pen on his pad. After viewing the menu, seeing the little choice there was for vegans, I decided to brave it.

“Yeah loads of times,” she finally responds, blushing and batting her eyelids. Damn, this woman is really into me and we’ve known each other for about an hour or two. Essentially a blind date. I give her the silent credit, she is busty, slim and tall. Her wit is questionable, after telling me I look like Colin Farrell. I look nothing like him and was born in Brighton to a mother who worked in a factory and alcoholic father who beat me as a child after his drunken nights out. Maybe being a Colin lookalike was the career change I needed. She glances to the menu and looks to the waiter, he’s young, probably early twenties and for some reason looking down her bra. Kid, take the order and **** off.

“I’ll have the vegan burger,” she says.

“Fries or onion rings?” he asks, smiling. Little jerk is jerking me around, can he not see she is on a date? I with hold my frustration and give him some leeway, as he probably hasn’t even reached puberty yet. “Okay great. An you sir?”

All can be forgiven, he’s addressed me by my master title, sir. Maybe I should correct him, to for the laughs. “Actually, it’s madam,” I say. The waiters face drops and he blushes. The young woman chuckles, and I get a leg up.

“Excuse me, madam.” So far so good, obedient waiter. “What would you like to order?” Oh dear the shame is built up, and I have to look at the menu, but cannot contain myself and splutter, laughing my ass off, she laughs again, and grabs my hand.

“Stop it,” she laughs. Her skin is smooth, her eyes magnetic blue. “What are you eating?”

I really was tempted to push it and order a portion of crisps, I didn’t have the mental energy now. “I’ll have the exact same, thank you.” The waiter takes the order and leaves without another word.

“So are you vegan then?” She smells of rose perfume and has that peaky, coloured tone in her cheeks. Do I confess my intimate details to a stranger? It wouldn’t go anywhere anyway.

“No, but I thought I’d try it.”

“You should be, it’s great.” Oh no, que the long animals abuse rant. I cut her off as she goes to speak.

“Do you want to know a fun fact about burgers?” She draws closer, smiling, her pearly whites glisten under the dim light.

“I’d love to.”

“Well,” I say, hesitating. “Burgers are sluts.” She pulls away, flushed. “They told me they like to be eaten out.” I expect her to laugh, but oh well, there she goes, from the table and out the door. I enjoy the moment and thank God I didn’t have to dump her.


Final Cover

I decided to go and use the new font for the cover which I prefer. The title is in a shade of yellow, to reflect the tone of the sand on the beach. The cover stands in stark contrast to the story; it is calm and tranquil whilst the survivors are learning how to stay alive some months into the zombie apocalypse which has ravaged the town. Of course the island is now overrun and there is no way out since the bridge to the adjacent island and city is blown!

At the end of Beach Town: Hope we see the rescue team evacuate some of the survivors to the city (if you haven’t read the story then please go and grab a copy) however to those who did read, we know that did not work out so well at all. Not to mention the city is completely swamped with undead… but that is for another novel, which may be the 3rd, but everything is top secret. You will have to enjoy the Survivors stories in between the novels. I think it is a great way to show you some of the horrific things that have been happening in town since the outbreak.

The change in font and style was due to the other looking too ‘good.’ It is the zombie apocalypse and the new font I believe has a worn down feel, and kind of looks like someone painted it. Do you agree? Almost as if the survivors themselves painted it before they ran off into a horde of the undead… I am also looking for people to review this once it is ready to publish.

You can see the new font, and the use of a shade of yellow on the title. I like the glow as it stands out, it also looks like a painted sign almost.

Fist Fighting the Undead (Cont.) III

… “Look out!” I cry and the brunette slumps to the side and I dart upwards and out of the tent onto the wet grass. The creature comes snarling at me with blood coated fangs and blood shot eyes, dressed in torn night gown she is lurching for my throat. My hands my only weapon I make the conscious risky choice to jump to my feet and pound away. Punch, wham, smack! My fists beat the undead woman’s face and blood flicks onto my jumper, her skull cracks and her nose snaps off into the bloodied grass.

“Behind you,” she warns and I spin. A group of four are mumbling rotten groans and gargling guts. But my attacker keeps coming and her mashed in face is not stopping her. But the woman comes to my aid to my surprise and grabs the beast by the neck and snaps it in one twist. “Die.” I snake left and struggle to see anything as moonlight is now obscured by clouds. Whatever is coming is hungry and the hissing and growls grow until I smell the rotting meat in my face.

My fists show no sign of slowing, they react instinctively and I punch away… left, right, left, right, left, the skull begins to soften and I go to finish it off with an almighty whack. She jumps in again literally flying past my head and drop kicks the corpse. I hear the bones snapping, and I feel the decomposed flesh around my fists. “Let’s go.”


Thanks for reading. Be sure to check out part 1 on my Medium. https://medium.com/@thomas_maxwellharrison/fist-fighting-the-undead-4f63b257b79

Fist Fighting the Undead (Cont.)

Welcome to this short story post. I decided to start a story on Medium to give me something to write on that platform. It really will be a short story. I don’t usually write in first person but oh well. I am also letting you go to read the first part by clicking the link at the end of this post. Hope you enjoy. This is an ongoing story.

The foul stench of death breezes under my nose and the woman cradles my torso. Lingering fear slips beneath my shallow breath and tickles my throat. “We fight to the death,” I add. She sits up and slumps her head on her hand and gazes into my eyes. I feel the doubt creep into my mind. We should fight, and we must. But the nameless wanderer like me, had that pale look of desperation and weakness.

“I can’t fight, I’m too weak,” she says, her thick European accent is hard to figure out, could be French. I was not in the mood to ponder such thoughts so I just glared back hoping she’d go to sleep. But sleep was not easy, wolves howled, seemingly closer than before, and seemingly in larger numbers.

“Don’t worry, we will be okay.” She lays back down and huffs. I know I can’t keep myself from worrying and have to open the tent netting. The fresh cool air brushes my face and the smell of mildew is already filling the fields. There is nothing to see and nothing to do but wait. Sunrise was many hours away, and they’d have to endure the isolation just a little longer. But no, through the thick black and slivers of moonlight I see not one but several corpses sway toward us. I go to move, and the stench creeps around the tent and claws inside…


Read the first part on Medium now ๐Ÿ‘‡ All feedback is welcomed. Criticism is welcomed.

https://medium.com/@thomas_maxwellharrison/fist-fighting-the-undead-4f63b257b79?source=friends_link&sk=ac5ef2189a1655f3fb046b983ea83e49

Find the back cover and blurb for the upcoming novella – Beach Town: Survivors – due for release over the summer period (aiming for August latest).

Flash Fiction Saturday ๐Ÿ’–๐Ÿ˜˜๐Ÿ˜‰๐ŸŒŸ

Welcome to Flash Fiction Saturday! This weeks challenge is to write a 50 word flash fiction story, and the theme is anything! I hope you don’t mind me putting this on this site, because my author website hasn’t got any traffic so seems like posting there is a waste of time.

Ice

Breezy wind whipped across my face, I lurked beside the brim of the snow coated lake. Shimmers of moonlight rippled off the edge of the water, the land expanded for miles. What is that? The howling wind, gushes of ice as it scrapes against the cabin wood. Am I alone?

50 words

Why don’t you have a go? I’m happy to continue this on psychedelicwizard.org because it has more followers and gets more traffic.

It’s not about garnering likes or comments so please have a go in the comments, because I’d love to see your flash fiction. But if you did like this then why not like and comment and share? Drop links below to your own short stories. โค

https://www.wattpad.com/story/308318436-zombie-outbreaks-apocalypse-on-easy-street

Free Writing Software {alternatives to word!]

Everyone is familiar with Microsoft Word. It is a well known, worldwide document writing software on computers. A lot of computers used to come with it pre-installed and you would then have to pay to activate it.

However, despite using it to write stories, my subscription expired in April and I have not renewed it. To be precise my office package expired including email. In the past I’ve used programs like Open Word, which I had pre-installed on my last laptop. I haven’t really looked into free software but it is a lot better, it is free and most of them do the same as Word. I have also changed how I view Microsoft, I don’t value it. I never liked the company.

Now you can use Microsoft 365 online for free, but this post is about alternatives, because I am not recommending the company for anything. Please consider doing some research into their history, their aspirations, and oh yeah, take a look at how Bill Gates has hijacked the healthcare system in the USA.

1) Google Documents – allows you to work anywhere. It is functional offline too.

2) Zoho Documents

3) Libre Office – I use this now, and it really is fantastic, you can even edit PDF using this software for free without buying Adobe!

4) Abiword

5) WPS Office Writer

6) Apache Open Office – great software, although I still prefer Libre. This is a good basic alternative.

Of course all computers usually come with software called WordPad which is basic, but allows you to write and create document without issues. Formatting is limited. Going even simpler, Notepad is available, and to the barebones, Sticky Notes.

Now that covers some alternatives. I think people are scared to venture from Word since it is the go to software for many. I want you to know that choosing another software does not make you inferior! No! It makes you better!

Morning Sunshine Saturday

Good morning to all you wonderful souls out there reading this post. I hope the sunrise is as beautiful there are it is here. The sun is out, the birds are chirping and the day has a glow of elegant expression.

Today I will be writing, and focused on that in its entirety. My goal is get some work added to the Wattpad story Apocalypse on Easy Street, which so far has 5 parts. I’m listening to classical music on Classic FM which is a relaxing and mindful station for anyone looking for a radio to work to. For breakfast a wrap of chili kidney beans and full caffeinated coffee.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, why?”

“You never drink caffeinated coffee!”

That is true, but since I don’t have decaffeinated and I don’t want tea, I’ll drink as I please. Besides, life is too short. Maybe one day you’ll wake up and smell the coffee. Anyway back to the writing. Aside from the Wattpad zombie story, which is more of a fun thing on the side, I’ll also be adding to my work in progress zombie novel set in the English countryside. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t bore you with too many details. I’m not exactly famous so it is not like anyone really cares, you know?

I want to add a ‘grateful’ section to this post, listing what I am grateful for this morning. Here I go, be free to add your own in the comments:

1) The sunrise 2) the birdsong 3) the food I am about to receive 4) the computer I am using 5) my ability to work on the computer 6) the fresh air 7) My imagination 8) music 9) to be able to sit on my sofa without fear of being attacked 10) God

I hope you have enjoyed this morning post. Sorry to keep the poem till last. You know me by now.

Having the morning breakfast proper

loaded up for the day

to write

to have fun

my life is going the right way... for once.