Colin Alcock

It's not just the books.

SHORT STORIES • POETRY & RHYME • FLASH FICTION • PHOTOS • VIDEOS • LINKS TO NOVELS

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JUST ME

Jack of all trades, master of some. That's my own assessment of a life where I've tried many things, done well in a few, failed in a few, but generally kept my head above water in this fast flowing river of life.

Now, I'm in calmer waters, having joined that band of retirees who can choose when to get up in the morning. Most days, anyway.

This website showcases some of my writing and some of my images and is a fluid selection, changed at the occasional whim to provide new works or older, but previously unseen material.

So, more may be added, a few items may disappear and maybe the style will change as it grows organically; for that's the serendipitous way I tend to do things.

I hope you enjoy what you find.

As for my background, click the button below for a brief resumé.

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Paul Hewitt believed he had found the perfect partner in Giules Franciotti, unaware of the missions that she and her feisty sister, Maria, kept secret from him - until he, too, was drawn into one, with a disastrous result.

As a consequence, all three lives are threatened before a disastrous finale exposes the truth.

A dark plot, but a light read.
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When Anne Grant invited her son to a Christmas Lunch at Arden Ash, without telling Edna Gray, all she had intended was to show an independence of spirit and less need for the constant guidance offered by her self-appointed mentor.

She didn’t expect the kind of interest his introduction would arouse – or that a train of events among her new acquaintances would lead to such tragic consequences.

For those who like a good page-turner.
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Some see the dandelion as an evil weed, others recall the beauty of a wildflower spread across a sunlit field.

Whichever your point of view, this compilation provides a varied collection of prose, poetry and rhyme to match many a mood.

A book that you can dip into at random.
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The thought of killing his own mother abhorred him.
The desire to overwhelmed him.
How was he to exorcise his demons?

A novel that explores
the dilemma of a driven man,
a missing teenager
and the frustrated attempts
of a detective trying to find her.

The Schooling Chair

Now Available
as Paperback
and Kindle eBook

The Schooling Chair is the place where dreams are made, futures born and the world opens up its treasures. This compilation of short stories and flash fiction does much the same, reaching to every corner of emotion, spanning time and place; even taking you to the far reaches of the universe; and beyond earthly knowledge.

The Schooling Chair Anthology
The Schooling Chair is the place where dreams are made, futures born and the world opens up its treasures. This compilation of short stories and flash fiction does much the same, reaching to every corner of emotion, spanning time and place; even taking you to the far reaches of the universe; and beyond earthly knowledge.

Whatever genre you favour, you will most likely find a story in here to swell your soul, but read on beyond that and you will find that there is so much more to discover, conveyed to your imagination through brief encounters with other lives, other views; some to make you smile, some a little sad, some to make you think awhile.



Selected stories by
the author of the novels
Tuna on Tuesdays
A Darkness of Voices
The Spider Man

and the miscellany
Dandelion Days.


All at
Amazon

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Click image for more information

A
good book
speaks volumes

What's new this month?

Just launched!

The
Schooling
Chair


A new medley of short stories
and flash fiction

Available from Amazon
as Paperback
& Kindle eBook


••• 
Plus website featured flash fiction
"Do I Know You?"
and slightly longer
"Llandegley Diversion"
••• 

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Post Box at Branscombe, Devon

There was a time when we relied on the Postman and it sometimes took quite a while to get messages back and forth. Even in the time when we had two deliveries each weekday.

Now the post comes and goes erratically, but it's still good to receive something written by hand.

And long before the smartphone, folk did communicate more urgently, when out, thanks to the beloved Red Phone Box.
Red Phone Box at Rosevine near Posrtscatho in Cornwall
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This rather less loved Red Phone Box is at Rosevine, near Portscatho, Cornwall.
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Not everything is email.
Post box at Branscombe, Devon.
Sometimes you don't need to hurry!

Do I know you?


Do I know you?

You should. I’ve been around you a long time. You just seem to have forgotten me.

I don’t seem to recognise you.

You used to. You used to rely on me a lot. You gave great thought to how I would react in any situation. And you went by my word.
Then, one day, you cast me aside. You hid from me and chose your own path. I niggled at you, at first, but got nowhere. Your attention was diverted to hedonistic spoils. You thought you knew yourself, could be yourself, but, in truth, followed only the path of others. The excitement, the dreams, the money, the flash lifestyle, until it all fell apart and you dropped into the gutter.

You know about those days? When I had everything? Then when I had nothing? Not even my pride?

And when you found the gun. And you turned another corner. Yes. I know all your days. You just chose not to know me.

You know that I killed a man, then. Just to get money. Money I gambled away. Then the woman I loved, because when the money was gone she found someone else. Someone much older and much, much richer. I didn’t kill him, though, did I? She did that, by causing him so much pain, his heart gave out. She died for what she did to both of us: the cheating and the lying. She deserved it.

And you had the right to decide? The one who killed for gain, the one who stole another man’s wealth? The one who threw away everything good you had, just to buy affection, to put yourself on a pedestal and then see it crumble beneath you. Only now, is your life stable. Incarcerated at Her Majesty’s Pleasure. But do you show remorse?

Remorse? What is life but for the taking? What about those who took it away from me? I have no remorse for them. And the man I shot for money: he was no better than me. His money was from drugs. It was his kind that dragged me down.

But only after your own greed: the betrayal of your true friends – and your family.

Just who are you, then?

I’m your conscience.

~~~

EXPLORE AND ENJOY
 For flash fiction, short stories, poetry and more, click or tap your way through the website.