A Sneak Peak

by Callum B. Downes

I’m excited to announce that I’ve begun composing my first novel and with all things considered, I hope to unveil my story in late 2018.

I look forward to sharing this journey with all of you! In the meanwhile, here is a little taster to tantalise your brain buds. Any feedback would be much appreciated.

An excerpt from chapter 1:

The approach to Detention Centre 12 invites such jovial denial in order to distract oneself from its sheer desolation. It is a grim blemish of humanity that squanders any shard of light protruding from one’s soul. None smile here. For here exists a betrayal of benevolence so conspicuous that ears prick at the blood-curdling pleas well beyond its barb wired borders. To suggest a fellow may arrive here and triumph above the sludge of impurity is naive. And to guess a man can leave here with a functional psyche is an empty bet.  But clarity of thought is a commodity less sought after than the slave, and so a visit to its chambers is well worth a few chips. Besides, with a decent poker face, one can return with medication a plenty. A bounty of those more servant hearted, who are inclined to put your mind at ease. There’s no doubt of this journey’s worth. Just ensure personal security is prioritised, as their chains and muzzles often falter beneath the weight of loss, leading to a bloodbath unprecedented to the average cobber. Shudder you may, but she’ll be right. Oh, and don’t forget an overcoat. Yeah it’s bloody hot, but the stench of death is palpable and the smog will fix up your lungs good and proper, with all the black gold those bastards burn by the heap. Flies greet each man’s arrival and opening the mouth is ill advised. It’s a shit of a place, but that’s the game we’re in, mate.

Chester fastened his overcoat above the lip and stepped out from the Bentley onto the cracked earth, crushing a partially melted Barbie doll with the weight of his boot. Sweat begins accumulating upon his brow, as the Taipan of heat strikes its prey. He squints toward the blackened ocean, glimpsing cargo liners keeling over the horizon and the familiar sight of children being thrown overboard in the desperate hope of freedom, followed by the deathly rattle of the semi-automatic rifle, forcing them to an early grave deep beneath the waves. Head down, he strides purposefully through human excrement to the main quadrangle where the exchanges take place, Roge trailing close behind.

Advertisements