Friday, June 8, 2012


Just a little something from my novel, Missing Since Tuesday. Enjoy! And happy weekend :)

Grief is never easy. Even when you’re warned, when it is only a case of when, not if. Even when they die of old age and everyone says it was their time – we can’t live forever. But you know that your world is never going to be the same without that person in your life and despite your resolve to love them and spend time with them when they are still alive, it is never enough when they are gone.
And so we nod and we say thank you and we accept the flowers and the cards, and we do all the things we are supposed to do. As adults, we understand death; it is a part of life. We can deal with grief. Or so our sympathizers are given to believe.
Had they access into our thoughts, they could not survive the tangled web; its gnarled fingers grabbing at our arms and twisting them behind our back, distracting us as more mangled digits tore at our shoe laces and a million voices ripped through the air, coming from every direction, bringing us to our knees shoeless, armless, and in a state of utter confusion.

For the third night in a row, Duncan lay awake in bed staring at the ceiling, knowing exactly what his alarm clock said: it’s late. Or early, depending on how he looked at it.
He had long since given up counting sheep, taking deep breaths and attempting to clear his mind and had resigned himself to counting the tiles. There were fifty-one.
Every time he closed his eyes, his grandfather’s face, in all its forms, haunted him. Memories of his childhood grandfather, who had a receeding hairline with gray streaks shot through black and ran around the park with Duncan and his sister, circled those of his adulthood grandfather, whose hair on top of his head had disappeared leaving white wisps behind his ears.
Every now and then, if he let it in, the image of Henry Grant lying helpless in a faded hospital gown came to him. The almost lifeless form struggling to breathe until at last his final breath left him and he lay still, as Duncan watched and waited for his chest to rise again. Tonight it came to the front of Duncan’s mind where it stayed until he finally found oblivion and the alarm clock glared 4.00am.


  1. I like the little insights into your mind's eye via extracts of your book. They seem to be situations I can see myself in and recognise.
    Thanks for sharing!