Some things are sent to try us…


Some things are sent to try us… Bitsy and Max start back to the airport. The next part of The Gone #amwriting #thegone

Originally posted on The Gone:

I stand beside Conor and look out onto the street. In truth there isn’t much I can see, due to a hedge, but the figures moving around are visible.

“How long have they been there?” I ask.

“Since the sun started to go down,” Max says.

“We need to get out of here,” I say. Max meets my eyes and nods. The house isn’t secure and I want to get Conor out of the place. He doesn’t need to be here, with his parents dead upstairs.

“You didn’t change,” Max says.

Conor doesn’t look at me, but I glance down. Up to now I just haven’t. My jeans are covered in blood. Mel’s blood.


I move at super-fast speed and go upstairs. I don’t look at Mel, I just reach her wardrobe and take a pair of trousers and a long sleeved top. I step over Philip and start…

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To die is an awfully big adventure…


To die is an awfully big adventure… Can Max and Bitsy save Conor? ‪#‎amwriting‬ ‪#‎thegone‬ The next part of The Gone.

Originally posted on The Gone:

Conor slumps back towards me as Max walks in. I turn the small body in my arms so I can see his face. His eyes are half closed.

“What’s the bite look like?” Max asks.

I look at his arm. Before there was no sign of infection but now I can see red threads expanding out from it. They are raised and the whole arm looks swollen.

“We need to hurry,” Max says. He hands me a glass that is filled with a red liquid. I can smell blood. I look at him.

“I have no serum left,” he says. “So we are going to have to go traditional.”

Slowly I start to tip the liquid into Conor. It only takes a minute and then the kid takes the glass and is guzzling it down. He finishes and smiles. I know he is still the little boy I knew but…

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Conor – Can Bitsy fine five-year-old Conor? The next part of The Gone. #amwriting #thegone

Originally posted on The Gone:

Max steps forward but I stop him, grabbing his arm and pulling him back.

“Conor?” I call.

The form moves and unfolds. Two brilliant blue eyes stare at me.

“Bitsy?” he asks. It is Conor who started calling me Bitsy, and the name just stuck. Now as the kid looks at me I nod. In seconds he is out of the wardrobe and in my arms. The odd thing is that he ignores Max.

Keeping his head cradled against my chest I move fast, past his mum and dad. He doesn’t need to see them, I just hope he hasn’t seen too much. As I run I notice that he is very warm.

Reaching the living room I pop him on the sofa.

“Are you okay?” I ask, checking his head and neck. His clothes are crumpled but clean and he seems okay.

He’s watching me with too big eyes…

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The Red Herring


Bitsy takes Max to her friends place, but there is something she’s been holding back. The next part of The Gone. #amwriting #thegone

Originally posted on The Gone:

“Come on,” he says as he breaks into a run. I love to run. I mean, before the change it was like pure hell, but now it is the best thing ever; the fact that I can move fast and my body responds without soreness or pain. If anything it is like the inhibitions that had kept me held back from using my body to its full extent are gone.

At some point Max drops my hand and we run side by side, arms pumping and legs working. I wonder what my time for a marathon would be, but then I would probably be disqualified for being non-human. Still, this has got to be my favourite thing. I glance at Max. So far.

We must have been running for about twenty minutes when Max slows. Before us is the high street of Sudbury on Thames. I start to walk.


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The First Kiss


Bitsy and Max kiss. The next part of The Gone. #amwriting #thegone

Originally posted on The Gone:

“So, whereabouts do they live?” Max asks as we leave the warehouse. Briefly I look back.

“Do you think he’ll be alright?” I ask, ignoring the first question.

“Who? Aaron?” His voice has a snide tone and I scowl. There is no reason to be jealous.

“Colin,” I answer.

“Yeah,” he says, “he’ll be fine.”

He sounds confident but his hand tightens around mine and I know he is worried. “I can check myself,” I say.

“No, I can’t let you go alone.”

I sigh. This macho shit is getting tiring. I mean it’s nice to have someone look after me, especially as I’ve been alone since Ricky’s supposed death, but it is starting to grate on my nerves. “You understand that I don’t need looking after.”

Max raises an eyebrow. “Really? And who just saved your arse?”

“Who saved yours?” I snap.

He falls silent. “I have to.”


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Fighting an endless war…

That’s what it feels like today. My dyslexia is hanging around my neck like a massive stone and I feel weighed down by it. Everything is a struggle. My typing is slow and half the words are backwards or wrong.


I don’t know. Sometimes the endless fighting gets on top of me. But it doesn’t last long. Hopefully in an hour or so I’ll be back to normal and tapping away at a normal speed.

The odd thing is that I know it is my own mental attitude, and I know why. Everything is taking too long. Or at least I feel it is. The novel is growing, but slowly, and the picture book is getting there but even waiting for paint to dry is a chore.

So how do I fix it?

I don’t. Instead I carry on. I keep writing and drawing, because in the end I will get there. I just wish I could hit fast forward…

Join Us…


Aaron and Eric must make a decision… The next part of The Gone #amwriting #thegone

Originally posted on The Gone:

“So are you going to become one of us?” Colin asks.

The room falls silent and the tension becomes thick. Goosebumps spring up on my arms and I have the urge to run. I rub my arms and the simple movement draws the eyes of all the men. They look at me, each expression blank. Then Eric looks disgusted and Max gives a smile. Aaron seems curious and he is looking at me with an expression that suggests he wants to know me well. I can’t help but give a slight smile.

“I’m not going to become a freak,” Eric says. He doesn’t surprise me, nor does the fact that he is cuddling the shotgun in his hands. That man smells of nothing but fear.

Max looks at Aaron, and his expression is not pleasant. “What about you? Think we’re freaks?”

Aaron looks at me. “No, but I need to…

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