I found this on my drawing board this morning!

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I found this on my drawing board this morning!

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This is not the pamper destination that was in the brochure.  I thought I going to be whisked into a fuzzy glow in the hands of real professionals.

I knew something was not quite right when I was dropped off at the dead of night near the mouth of a cave. There was a handwritten sign, ‘Thermal Therapy Rooms.’ So I reckoned, sure I’m here, I may as well have a look-see.

What was I THINKING!

Wandering down cave tunnels in the pitch dark.

There’s a gurgling; a strange slurping sound dead ahead.

A faint whiff of marmite lingers in the air.

Am I wading though grated cheese or crusty toenail clippings?

Large bloodshot eyes blink at me.

If this is a thermal therapy room, then these are the weirdest looking therapists I have ever seen.

This is not what I had in mind for my mid-week break.

Beeeee Jeeeeepers!

THE UNSPEAKABLE HORROR!

A Trapped by Monsters story

With art by David Melling

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

“No way!” I breathed in amazement.

This was getting weird.  Ten minutes ago, I was teetering on the brink of certain death and now, here I was, face to face with three new authors.

“Russian Hopscotch?” demanded Chae Strathie.  “What’s that?”

I gasped.  This new bloke could read my mind!  How could he possibly know that my jailer – Spengler the Jaded – forced me to play what could only be described as one of the most dangerous games the monsters had ever invented at this time every week?  Perhaps he’d heard my screams as the dice rolled and I was given no choice but to hop from square to square?  Perhaps he’d peeked into my cell as I prayed not to land on the patch of quicksand hidden beneath one of the numbers?

Or perhaps he wasn’t really an author at all… Perhaps he was one of the monsters in disguise, luring us into a false sense of security as we dared to believe that we could finally escape from this madness.  Yes, that was it!  Chae Strathie was definitely a shape-shifting beastie, here to taunt us with thoughts of freedom while he sharpened his vile-

“Your t-shirt says ‘Russian Hopscotch’,” continued Chae.  “What is that?”

I glanced down at the ceremonial costume I was made to wear for each round of the deadly game and smoothed down the frills of my potato sack skirt.  “Oh,” I croaked.  “It’s, er… just something my jailer likes to play from time to time…”

Sam glanced furtively up and down the tunnel.  “That’s a point,” he said.  “Where is Spengler?  How did you get out?”

I shuddered as I thought back to the moment my captor had landed on what looked like an ordinary cracked paving slap with the number 5 chalked on – only to discover it was a patch of pungent, lethal quicksand.  The monster had screamed as he was dragged beneath the ground, the gloopy mud that was to become his tomb racing to plug every orifice of his pock-marked body.

He’d gurgled a cry for help as the wet, sucking earth flooded his lungs and – for a moment – I’d considered trying to help him.  But I was too scared of being sucked beneath the floor of the damp cell myself – and there was no point creasing up my Hopscotch costume now I’d ironed it.

Eventually, Spengler had fallen silent, his wide, staring eyes the only part of his body that remained visible.  I knew this was my chance to escape. I just had to get the keys I knew my jailer kept clipped to what I had originally thought was his belt, but eventually turned out to be an external lower intestine wrapped around his waist.

Lying flat on the ground, I’d plunged my fist into the quicksand that surrounded my now dead guard.  Trying not to look into his lifeless face, I’d fumbled around in the gloop for the keys, first pulling free a spare eyeball before finally finding what I was after.  I had unlocked the cell door with trembling fingers and then, checking the corridor was clear, I’d run as fast as my ceremonial Hopscotch flip flops would let me.

“We found Tommy racing for the exit to the caves,” Andy explained to the new authors.

“I was not!” I scoffed.  “I was, er… coming to free you guys!”

“But our cells are in the opposite direction,” said Ali.

“Are… are they really?” I squeaked, scuffing the toe of my right flip flop back and forth in the dirt.

“You know they are,” replied Mark.  “You made us all tattoo a map of the caves on the back of our hands not long after we were captured.  You were definitely heading for the-”

“That’s not important now!” I interrupted quickly.  “Never mind who was coming to rescue who!

“Who wasn’t coming to rescue who, more like,” muttered Barry.

“You can keep quiet, marmite breath!” I scolded.  “What is important is that we’ve made three new friends…”

“Six new friends!” announced an Irish accent from the shadows at the back of the cave.  We spun round in surprise.

“I’m Niamh Sharkey,” said the tear-streaked author, stepping out of the darkness.

“Jon Mayhew,” added one of the two figures behind her.

“David Gatward,” announced the third.  “And we want to know what’s going on, right now!”

Click here for Episode Seven, by A Monster

Pocket Jeunesse have done marvellous covers for my Dragon Orb books. This is the final one, released on 3 June. I glanced at the amazon.fr rating for it the other day and was delighted to see it was inside the top 500 (477 to be precise, not that I’m obsessive or anything!) which is a first for me, I think. My books have never really troubled the amazon bestseller lists to date, but I live in hope that I’ll get into the top 100 one day.

THE UNSPEAKABLE HORROR!

A Trapped by Monsters story

With art by David Melling

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

As soon as I heard the scuffling outside the door, I knew this was my chance.  Monsters don’t scuffle.  They thump, stomp and squelch, but they never scuffle.  The siren hadn’t let up in several minutes.  The monsters appeared to be having trouble locating the escapee.

I eyed Blusterfart the Unsteady, my jailer.  He appeared uneasy, teetering around on one leg near the door.  It’s true that this isn’t unusual for Blusterfart, given that he only has one leg, but don’t be fooled into thinking he’s not dangerous.  You should see him hop when he’s angry!  I gathered my courage and made my move.

Launching into a run, I leapt into a flying front kick that caught Blusterfart full in the face.  With his balance less than perfect to begin with, the single kick toppled him and I landed in fixed stance, wondering why I’d never tried this before.  My jailer floundered on the floor of the cave like an upturned beetle and farted a wind crescendo that made the London Philharmonic brass section look like a bunch of amateurs.  The stench that he loosed was worse than anything he’d let rip with before.  I gagged, holding my arm across my mouth and nose to try to filter out the smell.

For a moment I felt sorry for him.  Blusterfart was so distressed that he had dropped his most prized possession, a stuffed goldfish called Sniffles, which skittered away into a corner.  The door creaked open and to my amazement I discovered not one, but four of my fellow captives crouched outside.

'Sniffles'

‘Quick!  This way!’ hissed Ali, pointing along the passageway to the right.  She was wearing a cracked pair of glasses that were glowing with an eerie light.

‘Are you sure?’ I asked, confused.  ‘That’s not the way the monsters take me when I’m allowed out to events.’

‘Ali found a map,’ Sam explained excitedly.  ‘We think we’ve found an obscure exit.  We might actually have a REAL chance of getting away this time.  I’m very, very, VERY excited.  Hee, hee, hee!’  He was hopping from one foot to the other and his grin looked almost maniacal in the strange glow.

‘And the other three?’

‘They’re being held together in one large cell,’ Andy explained.  ‘It was marked on the map.  It’s not far from here.’

‘Really?  Strange that Tommy didn’t mention being with the others when I saw him last week.’

A glance back into the cell revealed Blusterfart crawling towards Sniffles and blubbering something about making him a special pocket with a toy castle and bubbles.  It was a horrible sight.  I closed the door behind me and stumbled after the others. They were already moving on into the labyrinth in search of the remaining authors.  Two minutes later Ali stopped by a wooden door.

‘I think this is it,’ she whispered.

‘Any sign of guards?’ Baz asked.  He sounded nervous and stank of marmite.  I decided better of asking why.

‘No.’

‘The door doesn’t look that strong,’ Sam said.  ‘If we all charge it together, it might break.’

‘Why not try the handle first?’ I suggested.

‘Good idea,’ Ali agreed.  ‘Trust a pilot to think of that!’

She grabbed the handle and sure enough the door opened. A hair-raising squeal of metal on metal from the rusty hinges set my teeth on edge, as the glow of Ali’s strange glasses provided a spooky glimpse into the darkness beyond.

‘No internal handle,’ she confirmed, peering around the door.

Three pairs of eyes reflected the dim light and the bodies they belonged to began to shuffle forwards towards us.

‘Hang on a minute!’ I hissed, tensing as I realised what I was looking at.  ‘That’s not them!  I’d know Tommy’s shape anywhere.  Unless he’s been stretched, or mutilated, we’re in the wrong room.’  I stared in horror at the shambling figures approaching.  One of them moaned.  Were they zombies?  ‘Stop right there!’ I ordered.  ‘Who are you?’

‘We’re authors,’ one of them croaked.  ‘We’ve been kidnapped by monsters.  I’m Alexander Gordon Smith and these two are William Hussey and Chae Strathie.’

‘Oh, Lord, no!’ Ali breathed.  ‘It’s worse than we thought.’

Click here for Episode Six, by Tommy Donbavand

I find my mind once again turning towards all things goblin as I start thinking about Book 6 in the Goblin series. Not sure where it will take me or what I’ll find where I get there but, by way of inspiration, I flicked back through my goblin sketchbook and found this cheery idiot among the early pages. I post it for not other reason than, um…why not?

By the way, we can only dream at this level of personal hygiene here in the cave.

Via the seemingly inexhaustible fountain of wonders that is Boing Boing here’s a link to some beautifully illustrated pages from a Russian edition of JRR Tolkien’s The Hobbit. I particularly love this version of Gollum…

…But watch out for the spiders of Mirkwood, which/who are pretty damn stunning, too.

Sam

Those of you who read my first Invisible Fiends book, Mr Mumbles, will possibly have read the sneak preview from book 2 which is tucked away at the back.

Book 2 is called Raggy Maggie, and sees Kyle pitted against… um… a five-year-old girl with a dolly. But the girl, Caddie, is no ordinary five-year-old, and the doll, Raggy Maggie, is certainly no ordinary toy. Together they’re a deadly pair, who think nothing of torturing and killing anyone who doesn’t join in their twisted games.

The German cover of the book has just been revealed – complete with a different title, Caddie’s Game – so I thought I’d let you see both covers here, plus my first ever piece of fan art, which also depicts Caddie and Raggy Maggie in all their horrifying glory.

Here’s the version of the cover you’ll see in the UK, Canada and Australia.

And here’s what you’ll see if you live in Germany.

Which one do you prefer? Leave a comment and let me know.

And now for that fan art I mentioned. It comes from Tom Roberts, who came along to my recent event at Birmingham Central Library. I love it, and am going to frame it and stick it on the wall above my computer, in the hope Caddie’s creepy stare scares me into staying away from ebay and actually doing some work now and again.

Oh, and for those of you who found Mr Mumbles scary, I should probably warn you that Raggy Maggie is much, much more terrifying. You’ll never look at porcelain dolls in quite the same way again…

I woke up a few days ago with this image floating around some of the more surreal corners of my mind. Try as I might the dream that had preceded this visual peek eluded me. Yes, there were sheep, plenty of them. And yes the weather was um, challenging. But as I lay there trying to snatch at a series of improbable images I knew the dream was lost to me. Sure enough, by the time I was munching my museli and wiping the puddles of milk from the kitchen floor left by my helpful offspring, this curious picture of snowing sheep was all that was left.

Actually, this sort of thing happens to me quite a lot. What sort of thing, I hear you ask? Well, I’ll tell you. I have a habit of drawing any old nonsense that comes to mind whilst sitting in front of the Tv. The best part about this is the fact I’m not really concentrating so it is often a surprise to me when I finally register what I have drawn. For some reason I have been drawing sheep recently and, no doubt, after an evening of sketching the silly things I took them with me to bed, so to speak. It’s all a bit bewildering, really. But, of course, it  is part of the answer to that familiar question ‘where do you get your ideas from?” Sometimes, it requires little thought, just a bit of mind doodling, be it written or drawn.

What any of it really means, quite frankly, I shudder to think. I will not be trying to analyse the signifcnace of such imagery. Somethings are better left well alone. Let sleeping sheep lie, I reckon.

If you are trying to write something why not try a bit of mindless doodling yourself. It could be anything you like. A list of words, a sentence, a paragraph (they really don’t have to make sense next to each other – just write anything down for, say 2 minutes, without stopping). Or try drawing – anything. Doodle shapes: leaves, twigs, whatever is at hand. Anything to get you started. You’ll be surprised how quickly your mind will wander and start making up it’s own shapes. You never know, it might just spark an idea. Forgive me if I have already mentioned this on a previous post but it is something a say quite often. Story ideas, for me,  is a bit like making a jigsaw puzzle. The joining together of often unrelated pieces that, when put together, form a bigger picture.