The Warehouse Part 3 FREE STORY

Have you been wondering what happened to those poor chaps we left handcuffed together in a warehouse? Read on for Part 3 of The Warehouse ... (or catch up with Part 1 and Part 2)

The Warehouse

Part 3

'Help or ... not help,' she wondered out loud. Just then she heard the screech of tyres as the car took a corner too fast.

'I'm going to go out on a limb and say "Not help."’

‘Right, well then, let’s…’ She pushed back against him and shuffled her feet beneath her. ‘Stand on three. One. Two…’ On three they stood, still back to back, and the cuffs pulled up her wrists. It was bad enough that she was handcuffed to her ex. That he was a good foot taller than her added another dimension to her pain.

‘We could try and run,’ he offered, hesitantly.

‘We could. We’d fall flat on our faces and likely be killed. But we could try.’

He snorted. ‘Right. And sarcasm’s got a much better chance of getting us out of here.’

The tyres screeched again, closer this time, and the heavy thrum of the engine told her they didn’t have time to waste.

‘We could hide,’ she suggested.

‘I don’t know about you but I can’t see a thing. We’ve got no idea where we could hide, what they’ll be able to see when they get here.’

‘Then we’ve got no choice. We have to face them.’

She kept her voice steady and hard as she said the words, as she acknowledged the truth of them, her heart sped slightly, and she felt a prickle of adrenaline under her skin. Behind her, his fingers twisted until they were touching hers, and she resisted the temptation to take comfort from that. She couldn’t go there, not again. If she could only get through this by relying on him, then she wasn’t sure that she wanted to.

He’d proved before that she couldn’t trust him; that the support and comfort he was offering now could – and likely would – be whipped away in an instant. The second it got hard, or scary, or awkward he’d be gone.

Again.

The Warehouse Part 2 FREE STORY

It's time for Part 2 of The Warehouse, this time coming to you direct from the pen of Miss Iona V Andrew!

Follow the link if you need to catch up with what happened in Part 1.

The Warehouse

Part 2

'I'm not sure it really matters at this point. We always knew they had resources. I guess we just didn't figure they'd be this good.' 

She tried to peer into the gloom of the warehouse, desperate for any indication of what was out there. She could see the bare concrete floor extend into the darkness, two more sets of girders either side of them about 20 metres away. Above them the roof was too far to make anything out. No windows either, all she could sense was the huge space around them. Empty except for her, and her companion. She'd been trying not to let the cold get to her but the shivering was becoming harder to stop. Under her bare feet the concrete floor sucked all the warmth out of her body.she let out another sigh and watched her breath form a cloud in front of her. The anger was starting to give way to fear. It didn't matter how they got there or whose fault it was. All that mattered was how they were going to get out, before they both froze to death. 

'I can't stand much more of this. I'm cold, and I don't think I'm going to be able to stay awake much longer.' her voice had lost all the heat of her earlier rage. She sounded scared. She felt him tug on the handcuffs, trying to turn to see her. 

'Just hang on, they can't mean to leave us here to die. They would have just killed us before.'
She scoffed at his attempts to comfort her, but no sooner did the sound of her short laugh disappear into the silence of the warehouse than it was replaced with the sound of a distant car engine. 

Distant, but getting closer.

Feeling chilly yet?! Look out for Part 3 - coming soon!
Ellie and Iona
xxx

Something a little bit different ... FREE STORY

A couple of months ago my best friend (the brilliant @ionavandrew) and I decided to see what would happen if we wrote a story together, passing a few hundred words at a time back and forth.

Iona writes gritty crime procedurals, I write people falling in love, so we handcuffed a couple together, chucked them into a warehouse and waited to see what happened!

Here's part 1 of 'The Warehouse' (from Ellie)...

The Warehouse

Part 1

She tugged against the cuffs and winced as the cold metal bit into her skin.

'Would you stop that?'

She directed an exasperated sigh at the voice behind her. 'And do you have a better idea for getting us out of here?'

A telling silence.

'No? Well good. Let's leave the ideas to me, shall we? Because the last brilliant thought you had got us here --' shackled back to back in an abandoned warehouse, with no food, no drink, and no hope of rescue. Bloody brilliant. She pulled harder at the cuffs, deliberately this time, pulling until they were tight against her skin.

'You've made your point.' This time the voice was thin, defeated. 'And I am sorry. I never imagined this would happen.' She leant her head back against the girder and let out a long sigh. How could he have imagined this. Before the moment that she was bundled into a van, a bag pulled over her head, her hands tied behind her back, she wouldn't have believed that this, that anything like this, actually happened in real life.

The rational part of her brain knew that it wasn't his fault. That the only people who really carried the blame for kidnapping her were the people who had kidnapped her. but she'd been angry with him for so long that it seemed more natural to be pissed at him than not.

'How do you think they found us?'

We'd love to know what you think! Part 2 (from Iona) will follow very soon :)

Ellie and Iona
x

Update: click here for Part 2

Free short story: Extraordinary Possibilities

So, here it is: my first ever short story. I hope that you like it. Please let me know what you think!

Extraordinary Possibilities

I arrive at work before the sun is up, convinced that if I can lock myself in my office for a few days, then everyone will forget. In a day or two there will be some new office gossip, and Rob and I will be yesterday’s news. 

Except there is no Rob and I. I know that other people do it: romances in the workplace, a relationship with the boss, but it doesn’t feel right for me. 

I forgot this last night. 

At the end of the evening, when the lights in the bar came up, I was shocked. I had no idea that so much time had passed. Slowly, as the buzz of conversation and the sour smell of too many bodies invaded my senses, it became clear that we had attracted more than a little attention from our colleagues. Panic prickled my skin: I had to get out of there. 

Rob offered to walk me to a taxi. I refused, knowing that it would only add fuel to the fire, but he followed me out anyway. I didn’t argue; I just wanted to get away. The whispers I could hear in our wake confirmed my fears. The crowd in the bar didn’t even try to hide their interest, and I was certain that the rumour mill was already working overtime.

*** 

 I think back to the first time that Rob walked into my office. I hadn’t a clue who he was. All I knew when I looked up from my tired, emotional, groggy funk, was that some sort of god with Disney-hero looks – all muscly arms, perfect teeth, and hair begging to be touched – was standing in front of my desk holding out a hand. 

‘Rob Harris,’ he introduced himself confidently. ‘Your new executive assistant…’ he continued when my blank stare made it clear that I was incapable of speech. Fortunately, I’d been able to blame my lack of composure on the fact that I was only just back from sick leave, rather than being turned into a drooling, dribbling, adolescent mess at the sight of him. And so I settled into a routine of sitting, every day, ten feet away from a man about whom I had sticky, sweaty, Technicolor fantasies every night, but who was strictly off limits.

 ***

Another flashback to the bar makes me grimace. The pressure of Rob’s hand on the small of my back as we leave, wishing I could lean back into it, but forcing myself to move away. You weren’t doing anything wrong, I remind myself for the thousandth time. Nothing happened. The whole department was in the bar. It was an innocent after-work drink. You were just talking. Except ‘just talking’ didn’t seem the right word to describe the three hours we’d spent, to the exclusion of all others, huddled in a quiet corner. I remember the way he looked at me when my foot brushed against his under the table. The way that he moved closer, as I tried to move away. 

‘You’re still here,’ he says. 

‘I don’t know what you mean.’ 

‘I mean, how long have we worked together. A few months now?’ 

I agree, wondering where this is going. 

‘Well, for months now, whenever the conversation has threatened to move away from anything strictly work related, you’ve decided it’s time you were going home. Or time that I was. I mean, we’ve never sat like this before. Just talking.’ 

I nod slowly. He’s right. For the past three months I’ve tried my hardest to maintain my professionalism – not easy when I was developing the mother of all crushes. I’ve done everything that I can to shut him out. I’ve left the room rather than face up to my feelings more times than I can remember. And that’s what I should be doing now, I think. But there have been times tonight when the attraction between us has felt so strong that I could reach out and almost touch it.
 After we leave the pub, I start walking up to the top of the road, hoping that I can hail a cab. I can hear Rob following close behind me. He catches up to me and I swing round at the feel of his hand at my elbow, trying to pull myself away. I stumble on the jagged edge of a paving slab and feel my face heading inevitably towards the ground. I brace myself for the impact, waiting for the crunch of skin and bone against concrete. 

Rob catches me. 

He pulls me up against him, and as I catch my breath I can feel the intensity of his gaze on my face. I can’t bring myself to look up and meet his eye, even when his hand brushes back the hair that has been thrown across my face and tucks it behind my ear. A curl of desire starts in the pit of my stomach and spirals downwards.

*** 

I sit back in my chair, remembering the feeling of his fingers against the sensitive skin of my neck, and my reaction to it.  It was unlike anything I’d felt before: more intense, more overwhelming, more frightening. It was the first time I’d had ever felt that, and I’d walked away without saying a word. 

But now, suddenly, there’s something I’m more afraid of. What if I never feel it again? What if I run from Rob forever? What if this is my one chance, and if I blow it now, that’s it. 

This isn’t some fleeting crush. I’ve not been able to get him out of my head for months. And now I am determined to do whatever it takes to at least be able to speak to him about how I feel. My heart quickens at the possibilities opening in front of me. I don’t want to bury my head in the sand any longer. I don’t want to hide, or avoid him. The only thing that was going to help was doing something. I could talk to my manager; I could tell HR; I would do anything other than spend another minute sitting alone, in my office or in my bed, wishing that things could be different. 

As I race to the door and reach for the handle, it opens inwards, and I collide with Rob’s broad, solid chest. 

‘I need to talk to you.’ 

His tone is serious, and I’m instantly on edge. This isn’t right. We can’t have this conversation yet. But the shock of his presence, on top of my sudden epiphany, throws me, and I let him shut the door and lead me over towards my desk. 

I perch on the corner, and that’s when I see the envelope in his hand. My heart sinks. 

‘Rob, what’s going on?’ 

‘I’m leaving,’ he tells me matter-of-factly. ‘Please consider this official notice of my resignation.’ 

I’m horrified. He obviously doesn’t feel the same, and now I’d made him so uncomfortable that he needs to leave. 

‘Rob, you don’t have to do this. If something has … happened, to make you feel that you can’t stay, then I’m sure that something can be sorted out. Perhaps you would be happier if you were working in another part of the company, or if I was …’ 

‘No. I want to leave.’ My heart breaks at the certainty in his voice. 

He reaches for my hand, and holds it gently in his. I’m still so shocked by his announcement that I can barely register this additional surprise. ‘I’m sorry,’ he starts, and I want him to be quiet. I want to be able to sit in silence and concentrate on the feeling of his skin, warm and soft and smooth. Because he’s leaving, and I know that in the days and weeks and months to come, I’m going to think of this moment often. 

He continues anyway: ‘Please, let me explain. It’s impossible to stay here.’ I’m desperate to say something. It’s not fair that he should have to leave, just because I can’t keep my feelings to myself. But, again, the words don’t come. 

‘I can’t work for you anymore,’ he says slowly, with a hint of nerves making his voice waver. ‘Because of how I feel about you. Because until you read that letter, I can’t kiss you.’ 

Realisation hits, and for a moment, I can only gape at him. He wants to kiss me. He’s leaving. The two thoughts battle for space in my head, and I still can’t shake the feeling that this is wrong, that I’m forcing him out of a job. I stand, take my hand from where he still holds it, and open the envelope. 

‘Like I say in my letter …’ A hand on my waist gently pulls me towards him. ‘… I’ve been offered an excellent opportunity …’ The hand creeps around to my back and holds me firmly against his chest. ‘… With extraordinary possibilities …’ I hold my breath and tilt my face up to his, waiting for the feel of his lips on mine. ‘…That I just can’t walk away from.’
  

Sneak preview

I mentioned in my last post that I've been working on a short story, and I'm very excited to say it will be appearing here soon. But I couldn't wait to share just a little bit of it with you, so here are the first few paragraphs:

I arrive at work before the sun is up, convinced that if I can lock myself in my office for a few days, then everyone will forget. In a day or two there will be some new office gossip, and we will be yesterday’s news.
      I know that other people do it: romances in the workplace, a relationship with the boss, but it doesn’t feel right for me.
      I forgot this last night.

As always, let me know what you think! More to come soon...

Ellie

x

The Waiting Game

Once that all-important first draft is completed, writing is a bit of a waiting game. Especially if you're hoping to publish, you will probably want lots of people to read the manuscript: crit partners, beta readers, and eventually, agents and editors. I know from experience that the waiting is a strange time. After months and months of writing every day, making sacrifices to find the time to work on your book, all of a sudden it's gone. 

So, what to do while you're waiting? The first, and most obvious, option is to sit in front of your email inbox, hitting 'Refresh' on a regular basis. I'm not saying that this isn't a valid life choice - it's certainly one I've indulged in from time to time - but if, like me, you have decided to step away from the inbox, here are a few things that I've tried:

1. Try a different style of writing. Explore different aspects of the writing craft by trying something completely new. Recently, I've started short story writing, and found that it's really helping me to develop my skills - the restricted word count means that I think harder and longer about every word, making sure that each line packs in as much intensity as possible. One of my favourite things so far is the freedom it gives you to make fundamental changes in style and POV. How would this read in the first person, I think to myself. To change a whole novel would take hours, if not days, but with a short story, twenty minutes later I can see for myself! If short stories don't appeal, what about poetry, haiku, feature articles, a blog? 
2. Visit old friends. I have two NaNoWriMo novels stashed away that, on the relevant December 1st, I swore would never again see the light of day. But the characters from the first one pop into my head on a regular basis, and I know that one of these days I'm going to have to  write them a proper story. If you don't think you could revive a whole manuscript, is there a character, a location or a plot twist that you can use elsewhere? Or, on a related note, you could: 
3. Plot your next NaNoWriMo novel. If you've not NaNo'd before - I can highly recommend it. But let's face it, writing a novel in a month is hard. It is a lot easier, however, if you have elements of plot, characterization, setting, etc. clear in your head and down on paper before you start. That way, if you start to enter a slump (for me, always after the half-way point), or the words start to fly, you don't have to stop writing to work out what happens next.
4. Watch TV. And go to the cinema, read books - especially outside your usual genre, go for walks, overhear things in Starbucks. Load up your author notebook with so many brilliant story ideas that you can't wait to get back to your computer/notebook and start on the next project.
5. Start your next novel. You knew this was coming, right? Because now you know you can write a novel, why wouldn't you want to do it again? You've lived through the ups and the downs, the moments of genius and absolute idiocy (maybe that last one's just me). You've found time to write on days when it seemed impossible. And even though, when you were somewhere around the middle, you thought you might just give up now, YOU DIDN'T! 

So, there you have it. Five things to try. Any other suggestions?

Ellie
x

It's a mystery

Last night, when I was trying to get to sleep, a scene idea popped into my head, and no matter what I tried, I couldn’t get it out again. Good girlfriend that I am, I didn’t want to switch on the light and write it down there and then, instead I resolved to remember it and write it down this morning. Of course, when I woke up I could only remember the bare bones of the thing, and all of the words I’d spent hours agonising over had deserted me. But over the course of the day I think I’ve managed to reconstruct most of it, and improve it in places.

As I’m still working on the edits for Hollywood, have another manuscript in progress and ideas for several others on the go, for the moment I’m going to leave this as a micro short story – but I’m sure I’ll revisit these two characters in the future. I have no idea who they are, and not much more of an idea of what they’re up to. Mostly I just sense the enormous attraction between them, and their desire to be together. I hope that this comes across in the story.

‘Tell me you don’t love me,’ he insisted, taking a step forwards and pressing her back against the wall. 

‘You know that I cannot.’ She tried to avoid looking him in the eye, but the lightest of touches from his fingers tilted her face upwards.

‘Then marry me,’ he demanded again. Willing her to agree. Unable to stop himself moving closer.

‘It’s impossible. My husband…’

His hand caressed a line from her cheek, down to her jaw and around to the nape of her neck. Slowly, he pulled her face towards his own until he could feel her breath on his lips. ‘Your husband is gone.’

He heard her gasp and saw hope in her eyes, but still a trace of doubt remained. 

‘Truly?’ 

‘Truly.’ And at last he let his lips brush against hers, knowing that nothing, and no one, could come between them now.

So, who are these two, what is going on and what has happened to the husband? Answers on a postcard please, or alternatively in the comments box below…

Ellie x