I’m in the final stages of my novel EggHead, a crime thriller focusing on a boy at the ages of twelve and nineteen.   The twelve-year-old gets into serious trouble when he faces up to bullying.  As a nineteen-year-old, he is struggling to rebuild his life in a remote village on the north east coast (England, UK).   

The atmosphere inside the pub is rising.  The mood is ugly.  Again, I sense the hostile stares, the silent accusations, the thirst for revenge against the monster who killed the missing lad. 

The locals think that I or one of the other men at the Halfway House played a role in whatever happened on Wednesday night.  Worse, I can’t account for my movements that night.  I don’t recall any of it, apart from coming to in a groggy state shortly after midnight in an unfamiliar squat less than a quarter of a mile from this pub on the promenade where the lad was last seen.  I stumbled back home.  Someone must have seen me approaching the Halfway House in the early hours of the morning and passed on the information to the teams of villagers patrolling the area.  That would explain why the teenage boys and men stopped outside the Halfway House in the middle of the night, lingering by the front wall, talking in quiet voices. 

Because they suspect me of foul play. 

They must know my background.  They will have lifted it from the internet.   The anonymity required by law wouldn’t stop people in my hometown identifying me

 Meanwhile, my debut novel – Secrets by Lawrence Estrey – is available on Amazon.    Reviews.

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4 thoughts on “EndGame

  1. Thats the joy of being a writer, ups and downs. One has to get perspective and it is not always clear initially but time does help oneself to get a different aspect, or to change ones way of thinking. Well done so far and lots of encouragement.

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