I am told I am an excellent storyteller/writer.
Many people, other than my friends have told me they think I am an excellent writer; this goes back to the years when I was on the German site, Bookrix, though these actions did cause arguments with others who kept telling people otherwise; jealousy is not pleasant.
If you know me, you know I rarely, if ever, sing my praises as I see self-praise as no praise; if you wish to read what other people say about my work, you can read their reactions on my review page www.alsdominion.co.uk/reviews.html.
I have several stories on file that I could take a long way if I thought the readers were interested in reading them.
Some of these stories could have lasted beyond October when I will close the site for lack of funds to keep the site open.
In some ways, I am sad to see the end of the blog, but sales from my e-books are the key to me being able to continue my writing; the sales would have given me the belief that my writing has value.
Each day I sit at my laptop thinking about continuing with some of my unfinished stories - www.alsdominion.co.uk/home/alan-places-unwritten-stories -, but I keep coming back to the burning question - who cares - www.alsdominion.co.uk/home/who-cares?
It will cost me over $100 to keep writing this blog next year, with the cost of the blog and editing software I use, and for this, I see no income.
What lies ahead?
When I stop writing in a few months, I have several TV series from various countries that I can watch, to pass the time, if not keep my mind active.
I won't deny that I don't find Angela Kovacs (Irene Huss) and Helena Bergstrom (on the left of the middle photo) attractive, but what draws me more to their acting is that they portray ladies with a strong personality.
I also actresses such as Benedikte Hansen, Anna Bjelkerud, and Lene Maria Christensen attractive.
Before you ask, no, I do not find Sofia Helin attractive, there is something about her that I find unattractive.
That will be me.
Most of us have probably seen, or know, the old person who sits in the park most days feeding the birds and squirrels to pass the time; that is how I see myself in the future.
With no money to go anywhere, and ill-health preventing me from going on long walks I can foresee myself sitting in the park at the end of our road feeding the wildlife and reading my 100-year old Bible - www.alsdominion.co.uk/the-reading-room/the-100-year-old-bible.
The award-winning book.
The man stood at the gates, his mind whirling with thoughts of past deeds he'd done and those he wished he hadn't. "Ain't no time to question what I've done," he said as he approached the rust gates, "What's done is done, and now I need to pay!"
He viewed the area beyond the gate and thought, "I am to blame, nobody else."
. The wind howled but not a branch moved on the dead trees, and no there was no sign of life. "Sure looks like Hell to me," he muttered as he took a step through the gate.
The old mansion overlooked a dead land; life had gone from the area in times that were so far lost that nobody can recall the last time that anything moved across the ground, or flew in the air. Even the air he breathed seemed to be deathly, as he sighed, he saw a flicker in a room in the house, and a cracked voice called out "Welcome friend, this is your worst nightmare."
With a laugh, Mark Johnson yelled back, "Ye, though I walk through the valley of death, I shall fear no evil. For I am the meanest son of a bitch in the valley, and this place comes nowhere close to my worst nightmare - you haven't read my award-winning book Chronicles of Mark Johnson www.amazon.com/dp/B008BEDMSO. If you had read the book, you would know I can be the meanest, badass son of a bitch you have come across, and I don't need my swords, so bring it on, and see me take all you can give and give back three times as much. I've been to places in my mind that even I was scared to visit. I left my friends, my soul and any semblance of normality when I crossed over to fight the witch, and guess who is here now? Yeah, kickass Mark!"
Many people are blaming the Conservative party for the austerity the UK is going through, but it is not surprising after the mess the Tony Blair led Labour party left the country in after 12 years of borrowing, but not paying back the money they borrowed.
Under Blair, our gold reserves were sold off at rock bottom prices to fleece the pockets of his friends if we borrow from people at some time they WILL expect to get paid back.
Bristol City Council (Labour) has again wasted millions off tax-payers money. Two years ago they implemented a system to regulate the payments of benefits and caused a horrendous backlog of work that has not got cleared, and now they have installed another method to do the same job, and this has had the effect of duplicating their problems, only on a much larger scale.
My final short story selection.
What would I consider giving me some peace of mind?
I could finish off some of my short stories, two or three are close to where I could call it a day; especially The Reunion. Others like The Lodge I could continue as I am getting well into what could turn out to be a long, if not my longest, story.
Others such as Baal could get extended, but I am finding writing the story of Archie Grimley hard to get into; this is a shame as I was thinking of adding some raunchy romance scenes a little later on in the story.
What am I worried about, nobody cares?
A short story from my past.
Like many of my stories, this one has an interesting, and to me funny, background.
The title (Author goes missing) referred to me at the time; I was feeling low and unwanted - nothing new there - so, I wrote this story to see what if any reaction my disappearance would have.
The funny part is that a writer from the US thought I was writing about him as he'd not been heard of online for several months, boy was he embarrassed when he replied on the Dutch online magazine (Angie's Diary) I used to write for that he was online, then found out the story is about me.
Author goes missing
The motorboat chugged slowly into the quay, towing behind it the lost boat of local writer, Alex Marquis.
The dock was silent as Jackie Rees and Davie Callaghan pulled the boat in, there was no doubt that the boat belonged to Alex Marquis - it has been in the family as long as anyone could recall - but there was no sign of Alex.
Johnny Cooper called to Davie, "Is there any indication of a struggle?"
Davie didn't need to think how to answer, on the journey back the question had plagued him, "No, there was no sign of a struggle or an accident. I can think of only one action that covers what Jackie and I found, and I'd rather not consider the option I have in mind."
Jackie called up to the group at the dock, "We know Alex is a good swimmer, so we went further out than most searches would have covered on the off chance that he did swim out. But there is no indication of where or when he left the boat or why?"
Johnny glanced at the dark clouds threatening another harsh winter's night, with tears in his eyes, he said, "Alex never knew how much he was liked, or how his work as a writer brought happiness to readers. His demons were worse than those he thought he needed to conquer to be accepted. How can you convince somebody they are worthwhile when they can't convince themselves? I hope wherever he is, Alex is at peace with himself, he doesn't know how much he will be missed, and that is the saddest part of the story."
The ending of this story may come true in October, as I won't be blogging after then because I can't afford the running costs of the editing software from Grammarly, and the cost of my Weebly blog.
I thought my time had come.
It had been a long day out on the seas fighting the cold, but John and Dave considered their catch worth their time.
John glanced at their haul and said, "Men like us won't be around for much longer, Dave."
Dave sighed and replied, "That's true, John, with all the factory ships scooping up whatever they can scoop with sonar, there are very few real fishermen left; men who can tell you what to catch and when to catch it, so there is a catch in the coming season to keep our jobs."
"Yes, all they need now is the knowledge to read the radar screen, they don't care about the fish or the jobs, all that matters is their quota and getting home as soon as possible,"
"On the subject of getting home, I think it's time we headed back as there appears to be a storm coming our way if we start now we might be able to outrun the worst of the weather."
"Okay, turn us around as we'll take what we have and head for home, Dave; I ache so much tonight, I wish I could take a few days off, but we need all the work we can get before we get closed down by big business."
Dave tried to turn the boat but the swells were getting too big, and the tiny ship struggled to come about; the more the wind blew, the slower they turned.
John called over the winds, "I'll go below and see if I can get the engine turning over, you keep trying to steer us to shore."
Dave replied, "If we don't get the engine going soon, there won't be any point in us trying as the storm is gathering speed as she comes our way."
Tired as he was, John went below, his body ached from hours of hauling the nets in, but he had to get the engine running at all costs; in the wheelhouse, through eyes straining from hours in the dark, Dave tried to work out a route to the nearest port.
John strained at the crank handle as he tried to turn the engine over and get the motor running, but his cold hands couldn't grip, and the water made his fingers slip on the handle. He prayed, "Please, Lord, give me the strength to get the engine running, so we have the opportunity to get to shore."
Trying to maintain a steady course, Dave trained at the wheel as the waves and the winds bashed the vessel, and flung her about like a bath toy. He called John, "Any luck with the engine?"
As John entered the wheelhouse, he shrugged and commented, "None, f we're going to get out of this storm, we'll need divine help. I know you are not a believer, but when all else is lost who can save us?"
Dave shrugged, then replied, "You aren't the only who's been praying tonight. While you were below, I prayed that the Lord might help us. I think HE is our only hope of seeing this storm through, here she comes, hang onto something and pray for all you're worth!"
The storm lasted for hours. Then as if by a miracle in the middle of the worst blow, calm returned and the engine came into action. The men looked at each other in amazement; then at the clear sky and said, "Thank you, Lord, for saving us this day."
Two tired and scared men pulled their boat into the dock a few hours later, still shaking from their ordeal, they were met by their wives Debbie and Janet.
Debbie hugged John and said, "We all thought we'd lost you when we saw the storm, love."
Janet ran to Dave, and through tears of joy, she said, "We were all praying for you to come home, love."
Dave hugged his wife and commented, "If I wasn't a believer, I am now."
Jan asked, "What do you mean?"
"We were in the worst of the storm, we had no engine and were at the mercy of nature when all of a sudden there was calm, and the engine began to run. If the motor had kicked in sooner, we'd have got smashed to bits trying to outrun the storm. All I can think is that it is divine intervention the engine came on when it did."
It is your choice.
As I'll be ending soon, I thought I'd give you the opportunity to vote for your favorite story to be my final e-book.
Other than those shown there are -
Or I could re-write and extend some of my earlier stories that I have on file and unfinished www.alsdominion.co.uk/home/alan-places-unwritten-stories; the choice is yours.
if you find me on Twitter there are excerpts from my short story selection to choose from.
I will close the blog in October as I can't afford my software renewal, more importantly is the lack of e-book sales shows the readers have no belief in me as a writer. I have several stories that I was getting into that could have run for months but there is no interest in them.
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