|
|
 |
Fiction |
|
 |
|
Coleman drove back to the station, barely passing another vehicle on the almost deserted A63. He wished he had his newly purchased mp3 player with him, though he hadn't found the time to load much music on to it. The Major Incident Room was quiet, little to be done until the following morning's briefing, the mechanical noise of the fax machines and computers conspicuous by their absence. DC Kelly Hargreaves was the only officer in the room.
'Nobody else in?' he asked her.
She shook her head. 'Not at the minute.'
'Looking forward to going home?'
'Too right.'
|
|
|
He made them both a cup of coffee before logging on to his computer. The whiteboard in front of him chronicled the investigation, though it contained little tangible information. So far, they had no serious suspects and few leads. Suspicion was it was an out of town gang, but little had come of inquiries made to neighbouring forces.
|
|
The map pinned to the wall highlighted where the previous attacks had taken place. The A63 had seen three attacks, which wasn't surprising with it being the major route in and out of the city, but there had also been attacks on the A1079 York to Hull road, intercepting the lorries as they made their way towards the motorway to Hull.
The attacks had occurred at different times, only the method staying the same. It was proving to be deeply frustrating for the team. Checking his watch, he still had time before he needed to be at the hospital. Dawson had promised to ring his mobile to let him know they'd arrive.
|
'Any luck?' she said, turning towards Coleman, sipping the hot drink.
It took a moment for the question to register - the lorry jacking. He shook his head. 'The driver's taken quite a beating.'
'How bad?'
'Unconscious.'
'Ouch.'
'Quite.' Coleman continued quietly working on the computer, searching for the information he needed.
|
PC Dawson guided Donna Mitchell into a private waiting room. He quickly, and as subtly as he could manage, covered the bereavement leaflets over with a magazine.
'Can I see him?' she asked, still visibly upset.
'It's in hand, Mrs Mitchell.' He glanced at Jim Wilson, owner of the haulage company. 'Thanks for coming over so quickly.'
Wilson nodded. 'It's such a terrible shock. I can't believe it's happened.' He lent forward. 'It's like bandit country in these parts at the moment, isn't it?'
'I think this is the fifth attack we've had.'
|
|
'Unbelievable.'
'We're doing everything we can.'
'I'm sure you are' he apologised. 'I didn't mean to insinuate you weren't taken it seriously. It's just upsetting. Gary's a valuable employee, as well as a good friend.'
Mrs Mitchell blew her nose and smiled at Wilson, appreciating the support.
|
|
Fiction - Dig Your Own Hole By Joe Hakim
|
|
Things were going well. We were on schedule and under budget, Chris Chambers, so my boss was chuffed to bits. "It's going to be a good year," he said slapping me on the back, a huge shit-eating grin plastered across his face. As he looked around the building site, he tipped back his hard-hat and his chest expanded like a proud father watching at his children running around.
Read more...
|
|
|
Fiction - Load the Cards By Sean Davey
|
|
Loading up the cards and I start thinking. I think about casino's, and all that is.
Imagine a building dear reader, where degenerate, and often eccentric behaviour is not only the norm. its positively encouraged. Heavy drinking and gambling is as much a part of the punters mind as work, or going for a meal. Its just what they do to get their kicks.
Read more...
|
|
|
Fiction - Charity Begins in the Toilet By Shep
|
|
Like most stories this one starts at the beginning with a middle aged man kissing a middle aged woman on the middle of the lips. I'm not sure where the middle starts or ends but I'm fairly sure its centre is an equal distance from these two extremes.
The man's head jacks back and forth like a mother bird trying to vomit out some nourishment to her
Read more...
|
|
|
Fiction - Goths in Denim (I only dress like a Goth!) By Jason Ince
|
|
'That can't be the time!' I scream, staring at the clock-slash-radio-slash-CD player. This is the last time I try a DVD marathon within one day, I'll kill Stanny for suggesting it to me. The phone starts to vibrate before the ringtone kicks in. It's Clark's tone...again, 'damn you, Clark!'
I charge across the room and leap over the chair and snatch the mobile.
Read more...
|
|
|
Fiction - Absinthe - A Cautionary Tale By Sean Davey
|
|
In pursuit of the perfect high, man invented absinthe, and I among others regularly enjoy its powerful effects. But on some days, store-bought brands are far too timid for the task at hand. On these days we need the homemade stuff.
Created in garages and lofts, jam packed with wormwood and all those other alpha-terpenes to get the brain synapses into full gear.
Read more...
|
|
|
Fiction - Punishment By Nick Quantrill
|
|
Punishment by local crime-fiction writer and thisisull.com contributor,
Nick Quantrill, has won a nationwide short-story competition run by HarperCollins.
Entrants were invited to submit a story of no more than 1,000 words in the
crime-fiction/thriller genre.
Here's what the judges had to say about Punishment :
'We were impressed with the use of
Read more...
|
|
|
Fiction - Friday Feeling By Nick Quantrill
|
|
Friday 3pm
It was building up to being another busy Friday afternoon shift. It was probably no busier than any other shift, but the extra tiredness that Detective Constable Maynard felt by this point made them feel that much longer. He had been sent to Young's general store in East Hull straight after attending a suspicious death over on the other side of the city.
It was
Read more...
|
|
|
Fiction - The Morning After By Joe Hakim
|
|
They'll be here soon.
There's nothing much to do other than wait, so I make another strong cup of coffee and light
up another cigarette. Even these seemingly arbitrary actions are cast into a new focus now.
This patch of time I'm occupying is a bridge - a bridge that spans the space between
the way my life used to be and the way it's going to be. I look around my living room
Read more...
|
|
|
Fiction - In A Room By Joe Hakim
|
|
I wish there were bars so I could hold them, wrap my fingers around the cold steel and press my face in between them, but it's just a room, I'm in a dark room with no windows and no features, so I just sit and think and think and think.
I am a captive, a hostage in a foreign country. I'm apart from my family and friends and I don't know if I'll ever see them again.
Every so
Read more...
|
|
|
Fiction - Off To See The Wild West Show Part 2: Prologue (June 1904: Hull, Yorkshire) By Frank Beill
|
|
From the outside the two-storey building looked even more forbidding now than the first time I saw it. Eighteen more years of Hull soot had turned bricks from red to dark brown. The dank smell of Grandmother's skirt returned to me. I caught my breath. So many emotions stirred inside me. Doors in my mind that I'd kept closed for so long were opening again but this time
Read more...
|
|
|
Fiction - Buried In The Past By Joe Hakim
|
|
Arriving back in Hull, the first thing that hits me is just how much hasn't changed.
As I walk down Princes Ave, I look at all the café bars that have sprang up to replace
the odd little shops and businesses that used to line it, but it still feels the
same somehow. There's a kind of progress, I suppose - even if progress means it's
starting to resemble everywhere else in Britain -
Read more...
|
|
|
Fiction - Off To See The Wild West Show Part 21 (1886: Hull, Yorkshire) By Frank Beill
|
|
The extra twenty-four hour wait only made me more desperate than ever to discover what had become of my old friends. It didn't feel right to be back and not be with them. They were Hull to me. I needed to see them and for them to see me. Would they believe little Sammy could have grown so much? Would I be as tall as George now?
My friends were all I wanted
Read more...
|
|
|
Fiction - Red Carpet Blues By Steve Rudd
|
|
'One more word out of you, and it'll be your last - I promise.'
The ice-cold gun nudging Ellie's temple was motivation enough for her to keep her mouth shut, as she trembled with fear. She daren't even sob in case her captor construed that any form of noise was reason enough to blow her brains out without further ado.
So much for being a superstar in her own right,
Read more...
|
|
|
Fiction - Off To See The Wild West Show Part 20 (1886: Hull, Yorkshire) By Frank Beill
|
|
The deck rose and fell beneath my feet. My moccasins were meant for the solid earth of the Dakotas, not a slippery wooden deck in an Atlantic storm. I continued focusing on the infant pony and repeated all the psalms and hymns I could recall. Words that were drilled into me. I never thought they'd ever be of any use, other than to avoid Jolly Rodgers'
Read more...
|
|
|
Fiction - 'I Do' By Steve Rudd
|
|
Nobody told me marriage would be like this. I thought it would be bliss, day in and day out,
but problems soon surfaced, after our hastily arranged elopement in good old Gretna - that bizarre little settlement that straddles the border between England and Scotland as though it can't quite decide where it stands; where it belongs; which side of the metaphorical fence it is
Read more...
|
|
|
Fiction - Two Sides : A Friday Night Out In Hull By Joe Hakim
|
|
I'm just finishing off at work, watching the clock and loading the pot-wash with plates and cups,
waiting for Sarah to start her shift so I can go home.
It's been a really busy day, so I'll be glad to see the back of the fuckin' place.
I've been working at Sparks cafè bar on Newland Ave for over a year, but it's only been in
the past couple of months it's got really busy.
Fridays are
Read more...
|
|
|
Fiction - Off To See The Wild West Show Part 19 (1886: Hull, Yorkshire) By Frank Beill
|
|
Was it my imagination or were dark clouds hanging over the Persian Monarch the next morning?
I feared the worst. Heavy feet climbed the wooden steps to my hero's saloon.
As before Red Shirt, Dog That Stands and Laughing Waters were there in support of my case.
We entered the cabin and my spirits rose. Nate Salsbury wasn't there and Miss Arta was
Read more...
|
|
|
|
|
| What's Happening? |
|
|
|
| Chill Out |
|
|
|
| About Us |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|