Prologue of new book

Just been working on a short prologue, a taster of my new book set in Northern Ireland and South Africa.

PROLOGUE

A hand trembles on a closed door. It is a simple barrier inside a small corridor sealed from the township.

"Duu-mehla, Laaa-feyla … "
"Duumu Laaaa'feyla"
"Duu-mehla, Laaa-feyla … "
"Duumu Laaaa'feyla"

I can hear no dogs, nor feel the familiar sting of the cooking fires. But for the aging female chorus, the township is silent.

"Everything is fine"
"Just have faith"
"Just have hope"
"Everything is fine."

Here are the women, marching in a line, gold teeth flashing, heavy chests swaying.

Matron, a formidable figure, the matriarch, but with a heart of gold. Tshidi, our deputy, who lost her husband but found a new life with the hospice. Then Mildred, faithful Mildred, who runs it all and whose mummy we buried not long ago. Patricia is here, the lead choirister – and competitive she is too! – before last-in-line the creche manager, holding one of her young charges as she sings.

"Duu-mehla, Laaa-feyla … "
"Duumu Laaaa'feyla"
"Duu-mehla, Laaa-feyla … "
"Duumu Laaaa'feyla"

Ah. It is the funeral lament. You might call it the township song.

"Everything is fine"
"Just have faith"
"Just have hope"
"Everything is fine."

The wind has whipped up. Ochre dust blows through the walls of the compound. Now I can taste the fires on the back of my throat. And something else.

Blood.

"Duu-mehla, Laaa-feyla …"

The undertaker is outside. The gurney is wheeled out. The door is open, the singing thunderous.

"Everything is fine … "

The shroud drops. A white hand slips.

Oh God.

Its certainly a strong opening

Is this the thing based on the Irish priest in the south african hospice then?

Vypra wrote:

Its certainly a strong opening

Is this the thing based on the Irish priest in the south african hospice then?

Yo. Progressing ... Back off to Belfast to meet him soon.

I don't have a fantasy/vampire/werewolf/sci-fi masterpiece available yet. Enough trouble writing one thing!

Btw, did I recommend 'Wolfsangel' by MD Lachlan? Supposed to be good.

Opathu wrote:

I don't have a fantasy/vampire/werewolf/sci-fi masterpiece available yet. Enough trouble writing one thing!

*sighs* can't get the staff these days...

Quote :

Btw, did I recommend 'Wolfsangel' by MD Lachlan? Supposed to be good.

I don't think so. will keep an eye out for that one

ooo ireland

This is where I reveal my Ian Paisley underpants

Be that Afrikaans?

Will the zombies in this book be slow like in the old Dawn of the Dead or will they be able to run like in the remake? Also, will killing a zombie go against the Irish blasphemy law since they are technically a product of the voodoo religion? If yes, will money still have a value during the zombie invasion or will the fee be paid with blood?



It was a zombie book right?

'ello my leetle chums,

This is only a zombie book if it sends you to sleep. If it does ... well, I've failed

Early draft of one of the scenes from the book (hasn't been tarted up yet).

'Lost in Dublin'

I was six years old. We spent a month in a house at the beach in County Wicklow. We stopped off in Dublin on our way home at the end of the holiday. My aunt Marian was working in Dublin as a beauty consultant in a big department store called Borders. We visited her for lunch, at her place, then she went back to work and we drove on into the city.

We stopped at a shop to get some groceries –I suppose because we'd had no groceries at home, so we'd have food when we arrived back – and I'd said to everybody: 'I'm going over there to get a back of crisps'. So I went over to where I could get this bag of crisps and by the time I came back, they'd moved. I ran up and down the isles of the shop; up and down the isles of the shop again; up and down the isles of the shop again...No-one was there.

So I went to one of the checkouts:

'Did you see a woman with loads of women and children come out here?'

'No, I didn't,' she replied.

So then I had to go out into the street to look for them: but they weren't there. So I walked up and down the streets of Dublin for a long time, to find the sign that said Boyers. A big sign that said 'B.' 'O.' 'Y.' 'E.' 'R.' 'S.' down the side of the building. And I found it. And I ran towards it, and ran into my aunt – who was working – and by that stage I was just devastated that my family had left me. I was going to have to spend the rest of my life in Dublin. And then my aunt got really very upset, too – 'coz I was upset, 'coz I was on my own – and this woman who'd lost her own child came over and said 'oh, I've lost my child, is he mine?' And she turned me round. I thought she was saying: 'Will he do?' or something like that! 'Waaagh!' That made me even worse!

Eventually aunt Marian calmed me down and got me to stand in the door of the shop. She says: 'They'll think of maybe coming back here.' So my father and my brother, Paul, they eventually came and got me, and found me there and brought me back to the car.

That affected me badly for many years. What if I'd never been found? It's funny now. Funny too because Paul and my daddy came after the shooting to get me. They were the first two family members on the scene when I was in intensive care in South Africa. I was pulled out of the operating theatre for two minutes to say goodbye. I was supposed to die. And Paul and my daddy, well, they got me back then too.