So…

Sofas safely and successfully sequestered in storage, my stay in Leicester has ceased, and the city sinks slowly beneath the skyline as I set sail (so to speak) to sunny York…

A quick update on what I’m doing with my writing at the moment, in the spare time that I’ve got –  my immediate aim is to finish off the three short stories that I have kicking around in various stages of completion:

Hamlet… In Purgatory – Is the closest to completion. Now on its third draft, I want to add a bit more narrative and tune up the characters a little, and then it’ll be done.

Chocalypse – Next up; the sugar-coated destruction of mankind. What I have at the moment is a bunch of scenes running from the beginning to the end of the story which need tying together. I also need to write a few paragraphs to give the feel that the world really is coming to a sticky end.

The Director’s Vampire – My third story, first of all, probably needs a better title. It has three chapters written and finished, and I want to find a way to wrap the story up over another three chapters or so.

When these are out of the way, the path to Nocturn will be clear and I’ll throw myself into the city of blood and stone once again, going through editing and rewrites, and tying things together more thoroughly in the story. I honestly can’t wait. It’s been too, too long.

Death By Chocolate

Somewhere between the senses – not in another dimension as such, but hidden deep in the rarely-trodden tunnels between taste and touch – Death By Chocolate cleared his nasal passages. The process sounded like thick, melted chocolate draining through metal pipes, and as he swallowed the congealed mass with a gulp, one of his subordinates oozed towards him. It was sporting a look of wary excitement on its, for want of a better word, face.

“What do you-ouu think?” it bubbled.

DBC looked at the telephone on the table. Was it really that time already? He double-checked the figures, rolled the calculations once more through the sinewy wringers of his mind, and found himself satisfied. It was.

There were a lot of phones in his little part of the Sugarverse, but this was the really important one. It was the one he only got to use once every few thousand years, and he took a few nanoseconds to savour the opportunity. Naturally, he was not a fan of anything savoury at the best of times, so before his distaste could spoil the moment he snatched up the receiver.

He would not miss Obesifer. And although there hadn’t exactly been a cheer when the pale horse had made its move, the mood in the observation room had become noticeably sweeter.

“That one will do,” he said, his voice a decisive, brandy-snap crunch.