Different Roads
Different Roads is my first collection of short stories.
I am currently proof reading, editing and hunting down smelling pistakes. Once these tasks are completed, the book will be available from this site and from Amazon.co.uk
I anticipate that this will happen sometime in February 2010
If you would like to be informed when the book is available, please contact me at Keith@RoadsideTales.com and I will send you an email letting you know the publication date (and allowing you to pre-order the book, so that you are first in the queue.)
The following are details of the short stories that go to make up my first collection – Different Roads.
Death at the Crossroads
Death sat on his bike and waited for me at the crossroads.
I pulled up next to him, close but not too close, and killed the engine. I would miss the bike; she and I had done lots of good miles together; but then, there were lots of things that I would miss. – Read this story in its entirety… Death at the Crossroads
The Prodigal Son
I parked the bike in the drive and walked slowly up the path to the front door. I knocked and waited. Eventually the door opened and I was silently ushered through the hall and into the kitchen. – Read this story in its entirety… The Prodigal Son
Eating Babies
We saw the bike long before we heard it. The snow that lay thick on the frozen ground muffled most far off sounds and so we had scouts posted; two hours on and then two hours off. That was all that they could take in the cold. – Read this story in its entirety… Eating Babies
The Waiting Room
Joe sat alone in the bar and waited.
Far off, in the distance, he could hear a car approaching; its un-muffled pipes singing a song of hell. There was still time left though, time left but nothing left to do. – Read this story in its entirety… The Waiting Room
The Window Seat
This is my special place. This seat, by the window, in the prison cell that I now call home, is where I come to think. And it’s where I come to be alone. And, sometimes, if I try very hard, as I look out of the window, I can see a different view – something that isn’t really there.
This Story will be published in Different Roads in February 2010.
Hell Hath No Fury
In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.
Over the next few days, he filled the sky with stars, raised mountains so that there would be high places and filled the low places with oceans and lakes.
This Story will be published in Different Roads in February 2010.
The Wrong Right Turn
I woke up aching and tired with the sort of tiredness that comes from too much thinking and too many miles.
I’d had a difficult few weeks. My mother had died and I’d missed her funeral. I’d returned to England and my father and I had spoken. Good words but words we’d almost left too late. We’d parted friends though, for the first time in our lives.
This Story will be published in Different Roads in February 2010.
The Bloodstone
The meteorite had come from far away. During the thousands of years that it had spent ricocheting across the endless void of space, it has seen much and knew almost all the history of the universe.
This Story will be published in Different Roads in February 2010.
Homecoming
It was raining when they let him out, and cold as well. Somehow he had been expecting this. He pulled his jacket closer around him and paused as he heard them slam the doors.
Five years. Five long years wasted. But now it was over, he’d done his time.
This Story will be published in Different Roads in February 2010.
The Night Shift
He had been working on the night shift for three weeks. It hadn’t been as difficult as he had expected and he soon got used to grabbing a few hours sleep every morning and spending his afternoons working on the bike.
This Story will be published in Different Roads in February 2010.
Best Served Cold
When my marriage broke up I hit the road. I thought I was crazy – maybe I was but it seemed like the right thing to do.
Maybe I’m still crazy, who knows?
This Story will be published in Different Roads in February 2010.
A Summer’s Tale
I met her on the road back from Les Sables. She’d been there for the fireworks party and mega celebrations that always followed the end of the Round the World yacht race.
She later told me that she wasn’t so interested in yachting, although she admitted that she found most yachtsmen, particularly the round the world ones, sexy as hell.
This Story will be published in Different Roads in February 2010.
The Uninvited Corpse
When, at the age of fifty eight, Henry Kirby died of eminently natural causes, he was mourned for a seemingly interminable length of time.
For his funeral his friends, relatives and acquaintances came from far and wide to pay their respects. Henry Kirby had been a very respected man.
This Story will be published in Different Roads in February 2010.
Winter Kills
I was in the basement with Carla when the bombs exploded. Or, should I say, one of the bombs.
I don’t think anyone knows how many bombs were detonated that day.
I don’t think that anyone expected that the five hour war would totally change the way the world worked.
This Story will be published in Different Roads in February 2010.
The Storm
The West Cornwall moors are a dangerous place to be when the mists come down and the storm clouds gather.
The narrow lanes disappear into the murky darkness, leaving the lone traveller lost and alone.
There are no people here when the mists come down, there is no life when the storm clouds brew. Just the mist and the hint of rain on the slowly gusting wind.
This Story will be published in Different Roads in February 2010.
The Last Run
The early morning mist rose slowly off the winter ground as the sun tried to warm the frozen road.
There were twelve of us here – all that remained of the original club.
This Story will be published in Different Roads in February 2010.
The Collector
There was an evil chill in the air and the old man felt it deep in his bones as he stood and watched the big, black bike charge down the hill.
In the damp evening air he could hear the muted rumble of the bike’s exhaust echoing mournfully across the empty farmland. “An alien sound,” he though. “Strange in this lonely, desolate place.”
This Story will be published in Different Roads in February 2010.
End of Story
I stood high on the hill overlooking the cemetary and watch as the mourners made their way back to the waiting cars.
Martin’s parents led the procession, walking side by side but apart – as if each blamed the other for their son’s death.
This Story will be published in Different Roads in February 2010.
Different Roads
The twisty lane threaded its way through the woods and then straightened up as it ran alongside the river. The marshy fields that bordered the river seemed to glow slightly in the shadow of the dying sun.
Every now and again I’d pass something that I recognised; a cottage, a farm gate, a road sign that I’d seen before. I was back in Cornwall; there were memories here.
The last time that I’d been down this road was many years before. Then, it had been summer and Christine had been on the back. The bike had been my old Honda.
Now, I was travelling all alone and the bike was a Suzuki. It was the time of the year when Autumn turns to Winter and it was raining. I hadn’t stopped since St. Austell and the pain in my backside indicated that it was about time for a rest.
I had just about had enough when I saw the pub. I hadn’t known that it would be there. I hadn’t even remembered that it was on this road but, as I pulled into the car park, it was as if I had never left.
This Story will be published in Different Roads in February 2010.
All the best
