Hey guys!

Having left it a while since my last post (mainly because I’ve been doing very little), I decided that the best way for me to get back into the swing of things is to post something a little different. This is something that I had prepared earlier.

Trying NOT to sound like a Blue Peter reject, of course

As you guys will – no doubt – be aware, the new Discworld novel is released in the UK tomorrow. In anticipation of heading to the book store and picking up my pre-ordered copy of ‘Snuff’ (book #39 in the Discworld series), I’ve decided to post up an old, short (and entirely un-started to say the least) story of mine.

I can’t say where, specifically, I got the inspiration for the setting or the characters; but I will say this: it’s not very good. I tried for a Noir-esque feel, and I don’t think it comes across very well.

Mostly because I don’t think it’s written very well

Either way, I present you with a piece of fiction written by me:


The summer of 1932 had been a hot one; the smog hadn’t helped either. The whole state seemed to come to a stand still – a sweaty stand still. Pretty much all of L.A gathered together with a common goal that year: to sweat and complain about it. The drought didn’t help much either. People were already desperate enough as it was, then the state governor decided that the best course of action – after he’d started rationing the water supply – was to bring in prohibition. At least we used to be able to have a drink – a col beer on a hot day went down so well – but now, we didn’t even have that pleasure. The papers ran wild with headlines like “Governor Squeezing L.A Dry” and “’Water! Water’ Was his death call”

If you asked me back then why I moved to L.A I’d tell you that I wanted to be in show business. If you asked me now why I moved, I’d tell you that it must have been God or Fate that dragged me there, I really don’t know why. I suppose my reason was really to get out of nowhere. I was born and raised on a farm. When most kids where spending their time learning math and reading books, I was rearing cows, and looking after pigs, and plucking chickens. I still got an education, in fact I’d say that I learnt more on the farm than any city kid had done at school. But my life took a downward turn into boredom when my Father died.

After that, I wanted to do something more with my life. It was a difficult time for me, I didn’t want to upset my Dad, but I needed to get away from the farm. I spent a week in contemplation at the church, thinking and talking with God. After that week I had two clear thoughts: I could never rely on anyone but me, and I was going to sell the farm. So, I did. I sold the farm to a family business, then moved to L.A in search of excitement.


I remember the day like it was yesterday, Tuesday 15th of August, I’d just bought a new electric desk fan. It was working, too. Only, not as well as it should have done. My office was too big for it have an affect on anything but me. That wasn’t so bad, but for some reason it’d shut off after a minute or so. I climbed out of my chair – that was no mean feat, as it was a leather chair and I was real sweaty – and made my way over to the wall socket. I got onto my knees and yanked that sucker right out. That’s when she walked in.

“Praying aint gonna help” A soft, sweet voice, with a hint of North Carolina in it.

That’s when I looked at her. Talk about your Bette Davis’ and your Clara Bow’s all you want, this girl didn’t hold a candle to either of them. If you put an hour glass next to her, the hour glass would be jealous. She had a frame that could stop traffic. Under the floral print dress was the body a goddess would want as a 16th birthday present just to get the attention of everyone else. This, I didn’t know yet, though, as her dress was made of cotton, and wasn’t form hugging – which kept her suitably cool and mostly sweat free.

Under her hat was hair the colour of night. No, it was darker than night – it was as if her hair was a dark, flowing shadow running from the top of her head, and down her back. It seemed to wave around sumptuously of it’s own accord, yet responded to her every movement.

Her eye’s were the biggest and bluest that I’d ever seen. They where the colour of a fresh stream running through a meadow. The kind where you’d be able to catch the biggest fish you’d ever seen. Just looking into her eyes made me home sick. They had a hypnotic feature, I couldn’t stop staring into her eyes. I’d never believed any of that “Your eyes are so deep…” stuff, but that all changed pretty quickly.

Her lips were a deep shade of red, and gleaming. I could swear that she was wearing lipstick, but there was something about her lips that told me she wasn’t. I’d never met a girl who had lips this colour naturally, but she did. It was the kind of red you get on a freshly ripened apple. I didn’t want to bite her, but I did wanted a taste of her lips.

She made her way across the room, hips moving from side to side, hypnotising me the whole time. I could have walked out of there clucking like a chicken if she’d have wanted. I couldn’t hear her steps, although I could see she was wearing high heels. 

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Categories: CreativityLiterature


Jamie is a .NET developer specialising in ASP.NET MVC websites and services, with a background in WinForms and Games Development. When not programming using .NET, he is either learning about .NET Core (and usually building something cross platform with it), speaking Japanese to anyone who'll listen, learning about languages, writing for this blog, or writing for a blog about Retro Gaming (which he runs with his brother)