Thursday, April 18, 2019


imagination is sparked by an Ethrick Brown Novel. Book with images exploding from it

Read Scottish thrillers with great plots and laugh out loud humour


This weeks prompt was "the hiding place".  My efforts this week were a bit graphic and grotesque and bordering on horror writing. My creative writing advisor thought the central character would make a great anti hero in a novel. I agree I could probably do a lot more with this.


No hiding Place -  

It wasn’t the hiding place that got me it was the sentinel. The watching, weeping, all seeing eye had left me with a vision of misery that I just wanted to forget. Everything else I had been trained for and whilst nothing had gone to plan, the violence, death, tragedy, treachery and trauma were all stuff you could reasonably expect in what was essentially a war. Shit happened and the hiding place was just another literal example but that weeping, seeping, pus-like eye that hovered above the hiding place was one guardian that had messed with my head.

At least I was still alive unlike the heartless bastard who had tried to bludgeon me to death and was now lying in front of me.  His chest had been cleaved open and the vital organ that should have kept him alive just didn’t work anymore. I wasn’t entirely sure if it ever had but the current diagnosis indicated it was completely useless. Most of the life blood that had pumped through it was splattered over me now. The assassin who had stuck the fatal blow was also dead, He was lying stone cold, somewhere with his head hanging half off. As gruesome and futile as the headless assassin’s death had been it didn’t bother me. If you’ve seen one hacked and mutilated body you’ve seen them all but a few things about the heartless bastard’s condition were playing on my psyche. I’d have to be a strong, heartless bastard myself to lock away what was really haunting me now. I had to admit a couple of things about this death bothered me but truthfully I didn’t give a shit about him. He was a horrible bastard who had made a lot of people’s lives a misery and quite frankly he deserved to die.

My Reverie was disturbed. “I’m sorry about the pre-transfusion blood sample. We had no time” said the Doctor. “An immediate transfusion was necessary if we were going to have any chance of saving him.”

‘Another fuck up’” I Thought. We hadn’t saved him which meant the only evidential blood samples we could get from the body would now be contaminated by all the plasma pumped into him in the hospital to try and keep his pulse but the Doctor’s efforts couldn’t be faulted. His commitment in trying to save the lowlife scumbag was unquestionable. I don’t think he could have done anymore if it had been one of his own on the operating table. The tired doctor was now running me through the deceased’s injuries and he wanted my help to roll the body over. “Shit That would bring back the vision that was haunting me.” I didn’t want the chest cavity with the useless heart to disappear. The heart that I had temporarily revived and pumped back to life because I was first on the scene of the carnage and the bastard hadn’t been considerate enough stay dead on my arrival. I sought to hang on to the vision of the cold organ that had spewed all sorts of junkie body fluid all over my clothing as I tried my hardest to keep it beating before we got him to the good doctor. None of that shit would get to me. The heartless bastard wasn’t the first one to die after my resuscitation attempts and I’d seen more butchered bodies than most. You just filed all that garbage away in the deepest dark recesses of your mind and hoped it all stayed locked up but the Sentinel that watched over the hiding place was about to return and I was defenceless.

It wasn’t even an obscure hiding place. In this line of work, it was almost the norm but admittedly it was usually the last place we looked. Two weeks ago, he had been a trusted enforcer in the underworld and when we took him out he hadn’t come quietly. I had to fight for my life to stop him caving in my head with his stookie encased forearm but again that was just part of the Job. Fishing a condom full of class, A drugs with a street value of over 20K from some smack head’s anal canal wasn’t a pleasant task either but I’d seen more cracks than an iced pond in the thaw and it was just another part of the job you had to forget. It was the sentinel that disturbed me, I hadn’t expected that. When we breached the drug enforcer’s hiding place, it had raised serious questions on his side about his reputation and in the end the loss of 20 grand of merchandise had cost our dealer his life. Getting released from us, had thrown more doubt on his integrity and two weeks later the headless assassin had been sent to reclaim the debt. No doubt, getting his head hacked half off in the process probably hadn’t been part of the hitman’s script. We now had a ruined drugs operation, a double murder, albeit probably solved and no pre-transfusion evidential blood sample unless you counted the stuff soaked into my clothes. It was a complete cluster fuck. Questions would be asked but that was what answers were for.

 They weren’t my immediate concern. I could cope with all that shit but I wasn’t sure I could handle the all-seeing eye of the sentinel again. Now the good doctor wanted to finish his job and because it was a police matter I had to record, amongst other things, details of the seeping, puss filled skin ulcer which had eaten away a hole the size of a fifty pence piece right at the base of our heartless bastard’s spine, two inches above his rectum. Caused by venous insufficiency the tissue around the wound had disintegrated and was pooled with perforated mucus that resembled some hideous, horror creatures eye socket seeping slimy tears. When I had searched our heartless bastard following his initial arrest I was prepared for the unpleasantness of an intimate body search but I wasn’t ready for the nightmare image of the sentinels oozing eye which, even two weeks later, still gave me the hebee-jeebee’s because I just hadn’t expected to see it in such an unexpected place. If it had been on his leg or his foot that would have been a normal drug user’s affliction but two inches above, his hiding place was so unexpected and unsightly that it unsettled me. In our job, you were trained to deal with the unexpected but the eye of the renal guardian had spooked me and even though I was ready for it this time, I knew as I rolled the body over that the damage had already been done and in the future, there would be no escape from the haunting loathsome, vile, flesh eating, disease ridden, nightmarish vision of the weeping watching eye that had been implanted in my memory.

As I rolled over the body, I just knew that no matter how deep, in the darkest recesses of my mind I tried to bury the eye of sentinel, there would be no hiding place in my dreams when it came looking for me.