Thanks for visiting this blog!
The novella ‘One. Colour Rouge’ is written and published in paperback,
you can buy it from http://ar.gy/34gGar.gy
Also I’d like to thank a very special lady Farah Hussain 😉
I’m also bringing out an e-book version for all you kindle and iPad owners out there 😀
Until then enjoy this short extract:
Carmen Isabel Isolde gazed breathily over the cool morning scene, seated under an uncommonly lovely awning of an uncommonly lovely Parisian café. Beautifully dressed in a relaxed but tailored dress code she was a vision of off-white, fawn, and terracotta. She smoothed her skirt. A croissant and coffee was placed before her, and she smiled politely but took a moment before taking to it with a dainty knife. She raised her hand and smoothed a few stray hairs of her rouged brunette head behind her ears and looked up and saw the distal approaching figure, mountainous with false mystery lent to it by the overcast.
Dan was an attractive Aussie, a warm emotional man and retired athlete of 38 years. But you wouldn’t know his age less he mentioned it which he rarely did. He was a big man, retaining still the muscular form of his previous life, through softer now he could still match most competitors in technique. He had been drifting. Searching for what he felt he had missed out on as an athlete. Sun-kissed hair had darkened with distance. He had been missing from his homeland for 5 years, less the odd romantic postcard to family back home. And of course letters to his mother on her birthday. He had a great smile. Offering him a lot of wiggle room in life though he didn’t know it. He had bright softly melting blue to green eyes, conferring the sentiment of a clear ocean view.
He had started aged 33 in Thailand. With a bartender qualification in his back pocket he partied in Thailand. Tried Shrooms. Dropped Acid. Liked none of it. Met the girls of his dreams. Became a scuba diving instructor. He’d liked someone. He’d broken it off with Annan, or Ana or whoever or she’d broken it off, or rather there wasn’t anything there in the first place but an old fashioned tradition in him had felt the need to say something.
He got a bus to Laos. Hated Laos. Loved the people. Got in trouble trying to be nice. Left some money and got a bus to Cambodia.
Loved the people. Still today, to mention the place, is to prompt a launch into nostalgia. The beauty of the people. Made a pilgrimage to the killing fields. Cried. It was cathartic. Volunteered at a school for a while. Met a girl. Left a girl. Went to Vietnam.
In Vietnam he bought a bike. And cycled to Ho Chi Minh City. It was busy in the city. He met a few Americans in his hostel, and they got drunk together. He ate sparrow. Was in two minds. Saw a B-52 submerged in a city water feature. Worked at a bar. Left the hostel. Met a fellow Australian on a bike who had a pregnant girlfriend in NZ, and on the spur of the moment they cycled to the train station and caught a train to Nha Trang. Met Veronica on the train. They exchanged email addresses but never kept in contact. He and his Australian stayed in Nha Trang for a bit. They met a scientist on leave for a week, she was swiss and worked at a conservation place. Dong something. Dong remaining in Dan’s memory for obvious reasons. She was nice. She was intelligent, really intelligent but beautifully simple. He could never remember her name. Sandrine? Simone? Something hard to pronounce and French. She would make someone extraordinarily happy one day. He regretted not taking the trouble to learn her name. He visited a national park with her and the Australian who was thoroughly bored by all this.
She left. They met a bunch of guys from NZ, and got drunk. The accent made the Australian cry one night. Like a broken-hearted child. For hours. Dan held him.
They got a train to Da Nang, and Dan paid for the Australian’s flight home. His name was Ted. He named his daughter Danielle. He got married to Janet. They had three more children, Ben, Josh, and Brodie. They moved to Melbourne. Dan would see Ted again but not for many years.
He was a little short of money in Da Nang. He met a German stranger, who was tall, fair and muscular. The German invited him to a bar near the airport. He explained that he was out here on business; in a clear but not completely clean English. Naivety led Dan to the German’s hotel room….
And that’s all you get for now!
That’s ‘One Colour. Rouge’ ISBN:9781-291-27467-7