|Adrian in the village featured in his boook|
Please welcome Adrian Martin to my blog with an unusual tale for you...
What is Ideals?
No breeze blows in this dank room. Time stands as still as the air. Stagnant. I am no longer permitted to be part of the population and my own fellow. Trapped by a misery of grey and steel. The forever lingering stench of freedom wafts along the corridor on the other side of the door. You see, I do not conform to their ideals, but only my own. To whom did I give the right to infer what rules I must obey? I gave no permission, yet I am judged for it.
My boggle eyes find what my internal organs require to prevent the ache from crippling this aging bag of bones. Only a dim glare overhead gives any acknowledgement of my existence, and the lingering chill affects me so. A bed. A blanket. A danger. I am permitted nothing, for the body now withers, as does my once sharp mind. I have friends, of course, as do we all, but they are no longer permitted to come for dinner. Reasoning of those in exalted places is that I am incapable of behaving in a manner that is conducive and acceptable within their social structure. A drunk? No. A wife beater? No. An offender of children? Most certainly not. I abhor such repulsive crimes and believe those particular perpetrators should be erased from existence.
A brave little thing. It wonders innocently across my floor. It has asked no permission, yet it mocks me, doing as it pleases. I leap to the floor and snap ambush. It pays me little attention as I poke it with a stubby finger. Still it ignores me. Has it not seen my name on the door outside? Of course not, it cannot read, but still, I am here and bigger, stronger and once upon a time I would have been faster. It continues on its mission, whatever that is. Does it not get furious each time I force it off course? Perhaps, but it’s fun. I cannot hear it cursing me for my intrusion into its day. But it has intruded upon mine also, and yet I hear it offering me no apologies. My stomach begins to twist in anger at this mockery. ‘This cell is mine, and I am not permitted to mix with others,’ I warn it. But it does not know me, what I am capable of and why I am segregated. My stomach groans, its bellows foreshadowing this poor creature’s future. I grip the cockroach between forefinger and thumb, and for a moment there is a mutual understanding as we make eye contact. The crunch, the explosion of warm slime in my mouth is exquisite. Dining for one can be perfection when the taste can be savoured. This is why I am not permitted to be a friend of society, nor company within this cell. The cockroach, however, is no substitute for human flesh.
|Illustrating the setting for the book|
About the book... What should have been a fresh start for Katie Tremain and her twin twelve year old daughter’s, (Sarah and Tegan) in the heart of the Cornish countryside, quickly turns to tragedy when, Sarah goes missing in the bleak and snowy surroundings of Bodmin Moor. There are no footprints surrounding the house from where she has gone missing, and no evidence of the girl.
Before the police arrive, delayed by the unpredicted snowfall, a stranger arrives claiming he wants to help find, Sarah. Katie has never seen this man before, yet there seems something familiar about him, and Tegan appears to have a connection with him. He has one stipulation – No police. Why, what are his true motives?
A missing girl, a broken mother, a lonely sister and a stranger. Together they look for the missing girl, and Katie is shocked when the stranger’s true identity is revealed, and sickened when she finds out who has her daughter.
This supernatural horror takes a mother to face her worst nightmare.
You can find his book on Amazon
I will be reviewing Adrian's book on the live Bookit! programme on Sinefm on Saturday October 29th, 10.00am UK time