The Man Behind The Curtain

The Man Behind The Curtain (published at A Twist Of Noir 059, 29 March 2009)

Stamp Of A Vamp

Stamp Of A Vamp (Published at Powder Burn Flash #169, 25 March 2009)

Sins Of The Father

Sins Of The Father(published at A Twist Of Noir 058,22 March 2009)

Swamplands

Swamplands (published at Flashshots 18 March 2009)

Elvis awoke in a cold, dank sweat, hungover from bourbon and bad dreams. The nightmare had consisted of him being hunted through a swamp by the murderous spectre of his stillborn twin and his pounding heartbeat seemed to echo through the mansion.

He stumbled into the bathroom , splashed cold water on his face and looked in the mirror to face his own ashen reflection and that of his grinning doppelganger.

Aaron tightly wrapped the umbilical cord around Elvis’ throat and pulled it until his brother breathed no more.

The king is dead, long live the king, he muttered.

E-zines/Sites for stories.

Over on the right I have a few links for places where you can find some top stories. Check 'em out and let me know any that I've missed;

Five fab blogs!

I was given this award by David Cranmer:
Here are the rules:
You must include the person that gave you the award, and link it back to them.
You must list 5 of your Fabulous Addictions in the post. You must copy and paste these rules in the post.

1.bad booze
2.bad broads
3.bad tv
4. bad jokes
5. bad ideas
and the blogs:
Pulp Serenade http://pulpserenade.blogspot.com/
The always honest Geoff ‘mafia wars’ Eighinger http://easternstandardcrime.blogspot.com/
The Educated Pulp Writer David Cranmer http://davidcranmer.blogspot.com/
The Oracle Sandra Seamans: http://sandraseamans.blogspot.com/
It’s Cormac’s world. We just live in it...http://cormacwrites.blogspot.com

Castles In The Air

Castles In The Air(Published at Powder Burn Flash #163, 9 March 2009)

Castles In The Air
by Paul Brazill

Whenever I see a castle -perhaps a picture in a travel magazine or in one of those Universal horror films from the 1930’s -for some reason I have one of those Proustian flashbacks to when I was a young child and I went with my sister to visit my brother-in-law in Durham prison.

I fade in on a silhouette of the prison; perched on a hill, looming over the city like a great black bat and I taste the cold, metallic morning air. This then imperceptibly segues into my brother-in-law’s spidery black quiff, the tattoos on his hands and face and the brown blanket- looking prison uniform that made me feel itchy.

Then, I fade out and fade back in on a pool of vomit, which I’m sure is mine, on the floor of the rattling gray train and then I fade to black. Now, all that remains is the song that corkscrewed through my thoughts like a mantra as I went to visit, what I believed was, the Pink Panther’s home town.

Dur-ham Dur-ham, Dur-ham Dur-ham Dur-ham, Dur-ham Dur-haaaam, Dur-ham Dur-ham.

The end.

The Magic Hour

The Magic Hour(Published at A Twist Of Noir, 8 March 2009)

Swamplands

Swamplands(Published at Flashshots 18 March 2009)