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Fiction |
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End Of The Line
(2/2)
By Nick Quantrill
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(1/2),
(2/2).
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This is what I drove around the city centre for. I slowed down as I felt the need to loosen off my trousers. I looked again in the rear-view mirror; she'd toppled over onto her side. I could see the shape of her body. The need was starting to rise again in me.
Getting caught was the last thing on my mind. It was an urge that I had to satisfy. Besides, they haven't caught me yet. I steal another glance in the mirror.
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I shuffled around in my seat to get a better view of cleavage...I start to think about where to take her.
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And then it happened...
I don't remember it too well. I heard the screech of brakes on tarmac; I heard the blast of the horn. I had only turned around to glance at her for a couple of seconds. It was enough time to drive across a junction and headfirst into another car. Lying here now, I can see the irony of the other car being a taxi.
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The urge had become too much for me to suppress, I'd allowed my concentration to drop. I couldn't afford to let it happen again. I opened my eyes and looked around the room. I was in a hospital.
The sanitised smell and uncomfortable bed linen confirmed this. As I started to adjust to my new surroundings, a man in his mid-thirties stood over me. He was wearing a suit that looked like it had seen better days and was impairing my line of vision. I gulped. He clearly wasn't a doctor.
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'Detective Sergeant Coleman,' he said, holding out a police identification card. 'We're going to need to have a serious chat. We've found the false number plates on your car and the taxi company has no record of you.' He lent in close to me, I could smell the coffee on his breath. 'Just be thankful that I've not let any of your victims' fathers come in here to sort you out. Believe me, they were very keen to meet you.'
He glanced around to check that we were alone. He covered my mouth and squeezed my broken fingers. 'I'm going to make sure you go to prison for a very long time,' he told me. I looked into his eyes. I believed him. I was terrified. It was all over...I'd reached the end of the line.
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Fiction - Another Brick In The Wall, Another Man In The Crowd By Steve Rudd
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'It doesn't look any different on this side,' the disembodied voice yelled over the void.
'I never said that it would look any different. But I bet it feels different,' ventured an old man's voice on the Eastern side of the wall.
'Not really,' the disembodied voice declared. 'At least not from where I'm standing.'
To some people, the momentous fall of the Berlin Wall signified freedom
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Fiction - Off To See The Wild West Show Part 2 Chapter 2 By Frank Beill
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It was too late in the day to visit Tweed Street school - the children and their teachers would be long gone by now. This left only the address I'd been given for George. Hessle Road was not a long walk from Princes Avenue but a tram ride was quicker or to be precise two tram rides were: one into the city centre and one back out again to get me to my destination.
All the old reactions
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Fiction - The Service By Joe Hakim
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I'm a professional. I get the job done.
It's already getting dark as I arrive at the station. I make my way past the perimeter fence and park my car in the shelter. So begins the process of shedding everything that makes me who I am, in order to become somebody else.
You can never tell what kind of night it's going to be, so even now after all this time the anticipatory adrenalin
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Fiction - The Emporium of Illusions By Andy Bilton
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I cannot decide which foam bath to put in to the tub. Mood, I feel, is an important player in a first date situation and I do not want to fold at the first hand by getting in to the wrong one before tonight's encounter.
So do I pour in some of the Marks & Spencers 'Tranquility' that has an unnerving resemblance to Rowntree's Lime Jelly and 'treat myself to an indulgent bathing
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Fiction - The Horrible Death of Tony Clare: Retribution and Revolt By Sean Davey
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Tony Clare, British Premier, bringer of war, pestilence, famine and social impotence, died today. Killed by an unknown man. A man driven not by his hatred for the Prime Minister, but by his own need to right the wrongs that Tony Clare's society was responsible for.
A society which neglected its own people, raped the land, taxed the workers and killed the innocent.
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Fiction - Dig Your Own Hole By Joe Hakim
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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.
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Fiction - Load the Cards By Sean Davey
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Loading up the cards and I start thinking. I think about casino's, and all that is.
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Fiction - Charity Begins in the Toilet By Shep
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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
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Fiction - Goths in Denim (I only dress like a Goth!) By Jason Ince
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'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.
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Fiction - Absinthe - A Cautionary Tale By Sean Davey
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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.
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Fiction - Punishment By Nick Quantrill
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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
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Fiction - Friday Feeling By Nick Quantrill
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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
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Fiction - The Morning After By Joe Hakim
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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
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Fiction - In A Room By Joe Hakim
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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
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Fiction - Buried In The Past By Joe Hakim
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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
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Fiction - Red Carpet Blues By Steve Rudd
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'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,
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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'
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Fiction - 'I Do' By Steve Rudd
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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
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Fiction - Two Sides : A Friday Night Out In Hull By Joe Hakim
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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
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Fiction - Complicity Part 6 By Nick Quantrill
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Complicity is the new crime-fiction novella set in Hull featuring
Detective Sergeant Coleman and Detective Constable Maynard.
The thisisull.com serialisation is accompanied by the stunning black and
white photography of Roland Standaert, which illustrates the story and takes a unique look at the city.
Complicity and other stories are available for free.
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