Saddle the Wind.

  The spooky storm held a dark secret. Few people imagined the thunderstorm that wrought havoc to an isolated church on an ancient road could stretch across three hundred and sixty-two -years. Resolving a terrible injustice restoring balance to a divided community. The unforgettable date is Sunday, October 21, 1638. The church. Widecombe’s St Pancras. That night the storm struck, thunder, lightning, tears at the roof. A fireball blasts open a window, rebounds through the church. Outside, the vicar George Lyde’s horse is sucked up and disappears into the night. Its scorched Saddle ripped off, tumbling through the night, eventually crashing into Buckfast Abbey’s roof. Another stallion at the church pinnacles gallops off with two mounted...

Bomb Alley to Hellfire Corner.

1940; WW2. The skies are full of British pilots battling foreign warplanes. In Kent’s “Bomb Alley,” 5-year-old Ron Shears and his gang of “ragamuffin” friends laugh and play, oblivious as to the significance of the excitement in the skies. In this autobiographical account, Ron reminisces about the adventures and the horrors experienced during the era. Join the boys searching for war souvenirs; as they set off unexploded bullets; fashion D.I.Y. slingshots; play with fuses; get stuck exploring toppling house remains. Innocence and mischief...

Book Covers

 ...

Hut 42 at Yaya, female Siberian Gulag WW2.

Short Stories HUT 42 WW2 Gulag, Siberia. Yaya – 442 miles south of The Arctic Circle. The needle on the Richter scale of misery is about to set new records. True story condensed from, Where the Devil says Goodnight Nominated in the United States for a US Cultural and Heritage Award WWII spun into top gear for this European aristocrat after she is accused of spying and sentenced to 10-years. Days before the 23rd birthday, she falls from a block of ice covered slatted cattle wagon into the crisp, freezing Siberian snow. The buzz-word in the Gulag is surviving.  Five thousand five hundred mostly innocent ladies subsist in the brutal, cold conditions. Some have been here since the 1911 Revolution. The needle on the Richter scale of misery has set new records....

Cell 27 and the Match. Short story (from Where the Devil says Goodnignt.

True story Suz, the young scrounger, rolled a single cigarette in the stained thick ragged-edged newspaper and took the only match in the cell. Displaying it like a gold medal, she waved her fingers. “No one breath,” she ordered, as she rubbed the door hinge to dry the edge, placed the match against it and pulled gently down. It buzzed, flickered and went out. She stared at the reduced head, wondering if there was enough left. Yaga stepped forward and rubbed the metal hinge. “Fingers crossed ladies,” she whispered. Failure was surely the only result. Nevertheless, forty-one women prayed like never before. Turning the head – or what remained of it – to face the metal, Suz cupped her right hand and pulled again, but not as strongly or quickly. It smoked...