<— Previous ~~~~~ They were moving again. They’d returned to the Tube. “Cute.” Graham muttered. “They own an illegal print-job for the intrinsic flaw that it’s been Auteured. That it isn’t an auto-correcting text. That bound’s only ever been valuable to them for once having been ‘right.’ That it’s become a part of their own […]
August 29, 2011 by Paul McLaughlan
<— Previous ~~~~~ “How do you know, Man’?” Graham figured looking at the little guy was the thing to do: the other two men had turned to him. “Because they’ve logged in to the damn club under one of my own pseudonyms!” He turned his mobile around for them all to see. There was no […]
August 22, 2011 by Paul McLaughlan
<— Previous ~~~~~ Inside the club it was DnB. Drums at a hundred and eighty-five BPM / and the sub-bass at a slower, iambic ninety. Some of the dancers raved inhumanly at the slower pentameter, holding their water bottles high into the laser light. The agitated bubbles foaming their drinks like molten silver. Graham would […]
August 19, 2011 by Paul McLaughlan
And here’s some more of the Miracle. While I gave you a piece from later in the novel last time (as a better stand alone scene), this is from the very beginning. The chapter is a little longer than the last, so I thought I’d serialise it, as per Bibliotek. If you have thoughts, comments, […]
August 15, 2011 by Paul McLaughlan
Out on the street from the pub, there were ‘no-go’ zones around the hit, marked by push notifications: ‘Street closed. Follow prompts to detour.’ The notes buzzed the mobiles in their pockets, tingling like a mild electric fence.
August 8, 2011 by Paul McLaughlan
The Wild Kids jeered as Christian ground his suspension boot into the other teen’s ribs. “I told you not to collaborate on our turf, Gav.” Gavin replied by sign, twisting in agony—and if anyone there had been fluent in pain, they may have appreciated his poetry.
August 5, 2011 by Paul McLaughlan
“Wait. Graham. I need you. People died to get me that last bound, it was developed under an anonymous patronage, and it’s had a terribly high cost.” “Shit, Emlen.” Graham rounded on him. “Are you dealing with Ransoms? Tell me. I’m already on the run from the ninjas—hunters—whatever—and you’re wanting to get me involved with that? Forget ale, I need a gin.” Graham feared that word. But he didn’t really know what a Ransom was.
August 1, 2011 by Paul McLaughlan
“I was released after hours of questioning; but never actually cleared. It had been a pathetic, scattershot kind of accusation. They had nothing.
July 29, 2011 by Paul McLaughlan
Why am I doing this? I’m asking myself this question… why put my entire work out for free, and even be considering self-epublishing? That isn’t something that many writers who want to be ‘taken seriously’ do. There are, of course, a number of high profile authors who have been doing just this, but too often […]
July 25, 2011 by Paul McLaughlan
<— Previous ~~~~~ Chapter Two “I seem to have misplaced a bound, you see.” The two of them squeezed through the hole, newly torn in the ‘crete of the vault wall, its steel joists raw as bare bond, and jagged as if a screen artifact of hi-res fire. Then they fell into the blank alleyway […]
September 6, 2011 by Paul McLaughlan
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