The Writer Awoke before Dawn – PART 2 (standard:humor, 2396 words) [2/2] show all parts
Author: Ian Hobson	Added: May 03 2004	Views/Reads: 2925/2093	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
The Sequel.

The Writer Awoke before Dawn – PART 2 

©2003 Ian Hobson 

‘So what do we know, Jim?' 

Detective inspector Jim Green referred to his notes.  ‘Well, Sir.  He's
male, probably aged between fifty and sixty-five.  He owns a cottage in 
the country, somewhere in England, but we don't know which county.  But 
we do know the cottage is located in a valley that runs east to west, 
and that he's a retired bank clerk... or possibly a retired postman, 
but we think more likely a bank clerk. 

‘Name?  Description?' 

‘No, Sir.  We did have a name, but when we checked it out we discovered
it was just a pseudonym.  And we've no description as such.  We just 
know that he's reasonably fit; goes walking and that sort of thing.' 

‘And you're sure it's the same man?' 

‘Oh yes, Sir.  Slight change of MO, but it's definitely him.  And you
know what that means, Sir?'  It was a rhetorical question.  ‘We have 
another serial-writer on our hands.' 

‘I see.  Well, keep me informed of developments, Jim.' 

‘Will do, Sir,' replied DI Green, as his superior left his office.  He
moved to the chair behind his desk and sat down, still studying his 
notes.  This was a tough case.  But DI Green had cut his teeth on tough 
cases.  That was why he had been handpicked to head the N.S.S.S. – the 
National Short Story Squad. 

‘I'll get you, you bastard,' he said out loud.  ‘You've been lucky so
far - writing short stories with dubious plots and abrupt endings – but 
one day soon you'll make a mistake, and then you'll be mine.' 

*** 

He reread his last short story, cursing as he realised that he had
forgotten to edit the second paragraph to include the walking stick.  
But it was too late now; almost a week had passed since he had finished 
the story and submitted it to nicestories.com. 

He'd arrived home from his walk that morning, soaking wet, almost
slipped on the dodgy back doorstep again, shrugged off his rucksack and 
wet cagoule, then headed straight for his computer; eager to get his 
thoughts down on paper.  The latter being a figure of speech, as he 
always saved his work on the computer's hard drive. 

Now, he switched off his computer, retrieved his newly printed shopping
list from his inkjet printer, not mentioning the manufacturer by name, 
as he was less than impressed with their Customer Services Department 
and didn't want give them a free advertisement.  ‘That reminds me,' he 
thought, as he reached for a pen and added another item to his shopping 
list ‘HP Sauce.' 

He walked through to the kitchen.  There were still muddy boot prints
across the tiled floor.  Cleaning had never been his strong point.  He 
wondered about editing the bit about coming home and shrugging off his 
rucksack and cagoule, to include taking his boots off as well, but 
decided against it, thinking that the rest of the floor could do with a 
clean anyway, especially with his sister coming to stay. 

His little sister, Josephine... No, he knew better than to use long
names that were a pain to spell.  His little sister, Janis - younger by 
fifteen years – lived in Harrogate.  Not quite the same as living out 
in the sticks, but still a very nice compromise between town and 
country, what with The Stray and all...  ‘The stray what?' a reader was 
bound to think... what with the wide open grassy areas, then...  No, 
that's cobblers...  His little sister, Janis - younger by fifteen years 
– lived in a suburb of Leeds.  Not quite the same as living out in the 
sticks, though nice enough.  But she would insist on coming to stay 
with him from time to time, though at least she didn't bring her 
workaholic husband with her. 


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