I finished the first draft of my second novel EggHead, a crime thriller set both in Manchester and the North East coast and I am relatively happy with the first half of the story but not the second. In EggHead, central character Wayne (17) is forced to rebuild his life in a remote village off the coastal after taking drastic measures to deal with a bullying situation.
The following takes place towards the end of the novel:
The car starts to slow its pace, weaving down a trail with bumps in the ground and turns, twisting and scraping against hedges and bushes while sleet and rain splatter outside and the night wind wails like a banshee caught up in a cycle of distress. I remain perched on the floor in the back, body racked with discomfort, but I don’t see a thing. I only sense the trail, a deserted path in the middle of nowhere, hidden by trees, a path leading to nowhere. For a minute or two, the vehicle seems to hover. The Ghost sits in silence, his gun fixed on me. The blokes in the front light cigarettes and flick ash out of the windows, letting in freezing night air.
The engine dies. ‘Time to go,’ The Ghost says.
Meanwhile, my debut novel – Secrets by Lawrence Estrey – is available on Amazon. Reviews