Purple Monster

That evening early very early they were all confined to their cells including the two ‘princes’s’ it was bearly not afternoon. Many of the monks would spend the time praying but the princes’s at least were placed in rooms with novices who had completed the first stages of brother hood. The idea being that extra tuition would occure mainly though it didn’t and they would disguess the world outside the monstry and to her suprise – women and men and who was at it with who inside the stone walls.

These were not the feverent monks she had known in France.

These ones seemed to think it was their duty to help the poor and education mainly as far as she could tell. Though she was confined to a cell with Matthew she was startled to find that they did connect to Henry’s room which he shared with a very blonde sick looking youth. She still hadn’t worked out what she was going to do when it came to getting ready for bed – sure the dress of the age ment she would be sleeping in quiet alot of material that would probably hide what she was but that didn’t change the fact that she would have to get change into it.

Then there was the fact Matthew kept looking at her oddly and she would blush everytime she remembered her smile at him. His closeness was becoming quiet uncomftable to be honest and she didn’t trust herself not to pounce him. An action that could result in death in or at least the exposure of the fact she was well a she.

That aside she had almost luaghed when she found out that she was expected to learn to read and write Latin and learn the finer skills of mathermatics. Europeans had long lost the finer aspects of maths right around the time they took a dislike to the muslim. She knew this she’d seen it.

As for Latin she knew it better than those teaching, she knew different versions of Latin and as for writing it well she’d seen Matthew’s level of literacy and wondered if she’d have to do some emergancy coaching to him to stop him getting into trouble.

They eat a very simple and annoyingly cold dinner in their rooms with the connecting annex open. Henry it turned out had a sister staying at Overcourt a few years his sineor he had hoped she’d spoken to her but the stay had been too brief.

‘She’s called Cathereen and she’ll be excited to meet you I just know she will!’ he looked so egar she felt bad she wasn’t really his half brother.

‘I bet your called Henry too!’ He grinned and she just didn’t say anything letting his enthusiasm carry the conversation. Matthew was watching her with a puzzeled look on his face again which was starting to worry her.

‘I don’t really like being a bastard prince do you?’ he asked ernestly she shook her head – well she really didn’t like being a bastard Prince it was too prestigous and too tracable. The Priest had said it was the only way for him to keep his head (if he was lucky he thought he was more lickly to be burned as a heritic) and for her not to rot slowely in some cell somewhere. She looked around the ‘cell’ she was currently in and wondered if she would quietly rot here until someone noticed she really wasn’t getting any older and then she would be the one being burnt.

‘You know why we haven’t been publically announced don’t you?’ He asked her looking far too serious. She shook her head she didn’t have a clue.

‘It’s becuase of Fitzroy. He died of a cough they say but my mother said that it was a Catholic plot apparently there had already been serveral attempts and they hushed them up. They were worried about it so he was married off like straight away in the hope there would be children but they got him before there was really a chance.’ He looked so solem and big eyed and she reminded herself that he was thinking about a brother he had never met but one that he obviously felt some sort of kinship with. She remembered how she had felt when told she had had siblings and how she still dreamed of tracking those left down. She shut off the memory of when she’d tracked one of them down, it was always hard in these sorts of surroundings though.

‘They accused my aunt of killing him,’ he frowned, ‘stupid really, she was the one who organised his wedding and she paid for my education.’ He looked pained but continued, ‘of course they say she was a witch and Mother had an argument with her, she’s sort of estranged from the family now, my mother that is.’ He went on and on but it seemed like stuff she should be listening too. She felt ice in her stomache at the realisation that his father had married his aunt and then had the woman put to death. Something was going arye with this monarch and unstable countries where not good places to hang out.

‘Do you think they will target us?’ He stared at her, she shrugged and then decided that they probably would. ‘Do you know how to fight?’ she asked him. He nodded and then gestured to his sword. She smiled it wasn’t a pleasant smile.

‘No I don’t men gentleman play I mean do you know how to fight, no honnor no glory just survivial?’ She had traveled far enough and been through enough wars to be a better fighter than most but her prefered weapon was running – as quick and agiley as she could preferably in the opposite direction to where ever the people with the pointy swords or the big explosive things were.

‘I’m a good swords man! And I’ve had a go with a pistol!’ He looked annoyed she musty have offended him somehow. That ment she had alot of educating to do here, she wasn’t sure why she cared but she couldn’t just leave him exposed to assasines off course she’d probably save his life and he’d be some awful tyranical King responsible for the disintergration of Europe but she always considered you cou;dn’t know what the future held and she had to take everyone as she found them – the same went for their personal pasts.

‘Lets find out then’ she said.

Anger flared on the boys face and then he was scrabbling for his sword.

‘There isn’t room in here for fighting!’ squeeked the albino. His white eyelashes fluttering with fear.

But before he or Matthew could move, she stepped forward and grabbed Henry’s sword arm twisted it cuasing him to drop the sword.

‘First off you need to realise what sort of fighting is suited to which situation not all enemy’s carry swords and the sort that will be after you… us… will probably come quietly in the night with poison they same as they did with Fitzroy. That Priest who brought me here.. he tried to stop them killing Fitzroy and they still got him.’ It was a bit of an exaggeration but she needed to get a point over and he was too young hell most normal people always were too young for their whole lives to realise how diversely fear and self preservation could make you react. The Priests behaviour had been a complex one and she didn’t feel up to defending his weakness.

Carey looked at his hand in horror, ‘how? How did you do that?’ he asked quietly.

‘I’ve been educated abroad,’ she shrugged.

His eyes gleamed, ‘Will you teach me?’ She shrugged why not it was something to do and it might save both their lives if they were attacked.

Matthew was still staring at her even more puzzeled looking than before, he was really starting to disconcert her now.

The rest of the even passed amicably enough though she a small impatient arguement with the young Henry about starting lessons then and there. Where exactly they would be able to practice she wasn’t sure but the cells really were not suitable at all.

Then there was the issue of her name – they had assumed her name to be Henry but really two Henry’s was going to become a headache and she didn’t really want people asking for a title or surname becuase she wouldn’t know what was safe to use or even make up.

She could go for the French equivalent but it really did sound too close. ‘I think you should call me Harry,’ she said at last. ‘It means Henry and its just going to get confusing other wise isn’t it.’ The others nodded and Carey looked at her hard.

‘How old are you Harry?’ He seemed edgy, of course he was worried that she would be older than him or was he hoping that she was older than him and that he wouldn’t be in line to the throne?

She couldn’t really double guess and she didn’t really know how old he was either.

‘I’m 12,’ she said. She had no idea if she looked like a 12 year old male but she hoped it didn’t really matter. He nodded and then sank onto the bed.

‘I’m 13, I was hoping you’d be older you know. I don’t want to be King I don’t think court sounds to bad but I don’t want to run the country, have everyone depend on me. Its just too well big!’ She nodded she understood but she also didn’t really see how he was going to get out this one with out being well dead.

They solomly shock hands and then Henry and his cohort went off to their cell through the annex. Matthew then bolted it and shut up the cupboard, he then bolted the main door, solid bar a peep whole which to her suprise he covered up with a piece of cloth.

He stood there looking at her hard, tilting his head listening hard, she begain to get fidgety.

He stepped forward and whispered into her ear, ‘I know what you are.’ A chill ran through her, but she remained quiet there were several layers of deception here and she wasn’t sure which one he was refering too.

‘You don’t smell right,’ he said lamely she looked at him. He blushed, ‘I mean you smell like inscense and burnt sugar. Your not a boy, or a man so if your not a girl I don’t know what you are, some sort of elf maybe?’ He looked scared, and she realised he really was worried she was an elf, she suddered again, what was she? She wasn’t normal that was for sure.

His closeness was scaring her and driving her wild, she’d never been rumbled by smell before. ‘Are you a girl?’ he asked awkardly after the silenced stretched.

She sagged, ‘yes’ she said simply. Now would be the deciding point – was she going to have to try and fight her way out. She was trianed sure but somehow she always still made mistakes.

A tension went out of him and he touched her cheek. ‘Why are you here like this?’ he asked quietly.

‘To survive’ was her response. He run his thumb pad down her check and then stepped back from her as if burned.

‘I’ll look away whilst you change then.’ he muttered and busied himself in the corner. She smiled wanely, he was gawky gentleman it would appear. she hoped he wasn’t going to drop her in it. But she didn’t think he was the sort of person to find deception easy either.

She changed quickly sniffing all the time to see if she could tell the difference, to her suprise she did actually smell queit strongly but not in an unpleasant not washed manor that she had been experiencing in recent years. She did smell of sweet alluring things but then she realised he smelt better, like a hot nutriscous meal. She wanted to taste him but climebed under her corse wollen blanket instead.

He looked at her like a frightened rabbit and begain to change himself. He stared at her whilst he did so and she wondered if she should be looking away.

‘Goodnight then,’ he said extinguishing most of the candles.

‘Goodnight and thankyou,’ she said. He sighed and climbed into his bunk and rolled over away from her.

Chapter One is the Prologue and covers both the Punk in Pink and the Punk as Elizabeth.

Beginning:

Dream sequence of the Punk being Joan of Arc

Middle:

She awakes as the Punk who remembers what came next

End:

Flickers of other lives she has led getting ferthure back in history but getting more confussed until – The quest for origin is upon her

The Justice looked from her to the Priest and frowned slightly. The Priest spotted her and looked shocked her a moment but then covered it up.

‘Ah Justice I see you have found my run away’ he said jovilly she blinked rapidly trying to work out what was lie and what was trueth. The Justice looked at her startled, ‘You know this Priest?’ he asked.

She nodded unsure of what else to do.

‘But he is dressed as a Catholic!’ He spat the word.

‘That I am but do not fear I am of the new faith, I was incharge of trying to move his young Lordship there to a more suitable Monestry for his education. As is his fathers wishes.’

‘Rightly so, he shouldn’t have been left there this long, but that does not explain why he was wondering around the English country side at a time when rebels threaten his Magesty.’ The Justice said.

‘Ah well that was my fualt, when I arrived the monestry was already in ruin and I feared the boy dead, after the death of Fitzroy it would have been a bad blow.’ The Preist said, she stared at him wondering what on Earth this was all about. Her father? Who was he suggesting was her father? And way was the Justice nodding and beaming like he was a cat with the sunday roast?

The Priest had mentioned Fitzroy before it ment son of the King when litrally translated, and suddenly things went clink in her head and she understood what the Priest was doing, cuaght in clothing that could condem him he had thought of a story to save his own hide. She was grinding her teeth. The Justice noticed.

‘Ah lad no need to get so defensive, you are lucky to be alive the solders should have killed you and the catholics that survive this wave of massicers will be hunting you down like they did your half brother.’ At these words the Priest paled enough that he should have been transparent to the other two men privy but they were to intent on her, the bastard prince apparent. She blushed.

‘How did you survive the attack?’ he asked her.

‘I.. I.. spoke French?’ she said remembering the solder she’d talked too who’d told her to go home. The two older men nodded at each other in that superior fashion that was starting to really grait.

They slept the night in the court building as the Justices guest in some ways she was grateful to the Priest and in other ways she wanted to scrag him becuase now she had to travel with him to some stupid place in Gloucestershire where another of Henry’s bastards was being educated so she’d with her half brother and wouldn’t that be nice? It sounded dull but she had to admit safe.

Though how the Priest was going to pull this one off once they got to the monestry she wasnt really sure. He’d been given more suitable attire so as not to get linched on route.

The young officer who had hit her was still edgy around her especially on finding out she was an heir apparent, probably worried she’d harbour some great grudge and hunt him down once she was King. There was no way on this Earth that she was going to end up being a female King – she’d have to slope off before things got that far. Surely they couldn’t just magic up another bastard son without someone noticing anyway?

Perhapse the Priest planned to slit her throat in the deep dark forest that stretched over most of the accursed island.

She shook herslef and started to prepare for the journey – all the rags she had become so fond of had been burned as the health hazards they were. She had narrowly escaped loosing her pen, scrabbling in the coat for it and explaining it was a religous relic, they had tried to get her to loose it still as the King had anounced such things to be tricks of the unholy corrupt false church – the Holy Empire.

England it would appear was actaully breaking off from Europe as its own independent country, how well that would work when it still had a Royal blood line mixed and matched with those of the continent she didn’t even want to guess at. Not that it was her problem anyway and she was going to make damn sure it never became her problem. Last time she had got involved with things on the grand scale she had been burnt at the stake for witchcraft. She was staying well out of it!

Kitted out with good supplies and water skins that didn’t make the water taste odd she and Priest set off on horse back to her amazement. Her new status apprently got them alot of perks, she wondered fleetingly where the bill for this lot was going to land and weather in six months time an irate Justice would be sending out a warrent for her arrest. Well she could be gone by then if nessacery.

Her horse was really just a large pony with orange coloured hair, all corse and practicle with a blonde yellow main and tail. The poor thing was decked out in heavy sadle and far too much ornimentation, there were sores on its back from where the saddle rubbed, she felt guilt at ridding it but there was one reason she was still alive and that was – the guilt never stopped her doing what she had to to survive.

The left at an easy trot and compared to how things had been for her this was extravagant luxary. The Priest didn’t say anything to her about his tall tale until they broke for camp that night, most of England was still quiet wild it was being tamed though but they still huddled at the side of the dirt path, compacted hard and worn smooth, this wasn’t one of the old roman constructs that were still the basis of the countries trnasport network but somehting that was there purely becuase enough people used it. But that ment it was an area potential at risk from bandits.

‘I know you are a girl but believe me it would be a good move if that little inconvient fact is not found out.’ She shuddered as she looked into his still blood shot blue eyes. He grinned in an unpleasant way at her and once more she pondered just killing him with her pen and making a run for it. Well if he tried anything she would she vowed but for now he was her best chance of survivial.

They traveled for three days, the Priest was heading to a friends monestry though it was a convert to the new faith and yes there was a bastard of the Kings there, enscounced for his education paid for by the late witch Queen as the blood ties of the aristocrasy were interwoven and far too close to one and other.

He’d been a minor part in a plot that had killed a young man some years before – the young man had be next in line to the thrown through Bastardism. It was all rather stupid really and the country was currently torn by a religous war which was half hidden in the underground and not out in the open where peopl could see who the actual enemies were.

He had disagreed with the assination and had been to all intents and perposes heart broken by it, he’d tuaght the boy and he hadn’t long been married when slow acting poison had been given too him. Shockingly it had been covered up as a consumptive illness to prevent the nation form panicking or the Spanich Catholics thinking they had achieved to much of victory. But the subsequent bastards of the King had been kept secret, only the inner sanctum know who and were they were.

The boys were guarded well and provided for though not apparently by the King but by various other nobles who were close to him. The one in Gloucestershire was the next target but only he had know were the boy was, she worried she’d rescued an angle of death for the boy. The priest said he deplored the death of Fitzroy but for all she knew he was the assine.

By the end of the fourth day they arrived at a place called Overcourt where they were recived again as if royality no one thought it odd that the Priest was exhorsting a young man like this or that the young man may have been a royal bastard. This King seemed abit of a blood line liability if she was honest but she dutifully played her part fearing just how far this was all going to go.

They left in the morning to the near by Monestry. She was already planning her escape when a young novice came to help them with their satchel bags. He was tall and willow, with a guant face, he stuttered alot and tripped over his own feet. He was called Matthew and seemed to be their personal attendent. He helped her down and she felt his wire muscles under his habit. The ghost was there in his features but she had been lonely too long. She smiled coly before remembering she was dressed as a boy!

He blushed and took a step back, then lent forward. ‘The Abbot has put a ban on that so be careful.’ She blushed and then wondered weather the young string bean would be interested in a girl in monks clothing anyway. But his smell allured her, she thought she would glow bright enough to set fire to own jacket.

He lead her through to a small cell with two stone slabs in it – one was made up neatly and precise the other was bear. She lay her things on that one, wondering if sharing a room was going to present some unmountable problems.

‘Who am I sharing with?’ she asked in Latin. He blushed and looked away from her.

‘Me’

She smiled at him again and his face got redder. She didn’t knwo weather to laugh or cry – he thought she was a boy and she was making him nervous. That might not bode well for if she revieled her secret to him.

She shook her head why was she even thinking these types of thoughts. The Priest didn’t stay long other than to introduce her to his friend, a smooth faced man heading into decline but still took alot of care of himself and to her annyance assumed everybody found him irrasistable. His hair was longer than most monks would have it, a fine spun silver hanging down and curlling under his chin, she had the insane impression that he must put it around a tube and steam it to get that sort of curve.

His eyes were an unusual light brown, sort of golden and he still had all his teeth! and they were corroded stumps either they were straight and white and she conceeded he was actualy quiet good looking.

His arrogance was driving her potty though, by the time she’d been in the room with him for half an hour her skin was crawling she had no idea if he knew she was a girl and somehow she got the feeling he wouldn’t care as long as she was willing to kiss the ground he walked on. She loathed him.

He introduced her to one Henry Carey, the boy was about 12 and was so unbelievably ginger, freckles fought for space across his nose. He bowed formally and she almost laughed but cuaght herslef and returned the formality. Then he grinned cheekily at her, ‘So your my half brother are you?’ he asked, self concousley she rubbed the back of her head. ‘Well…’ she begain but was interrupted by vespers.

The first day there dragged and the one person who knew her secret was gone, bizarlly she had become attatched to the old goat.

I did alot of this sorting out obviously before Novemeber buy never sent it live which is what I am now doing!

So here is whats going to happen – I’ve done like an outline for each chapter! I’ll send each one live 🙂

This greatly helped me to see where the story was going though revisions have occured during the writing – I feel outlines must not be seen as ridged things but rather things that flow!

Pain sliced her, the dream was murky, the dark swallowed her, shadowy shapes drifted around her, explosions popped all around her, there was crying and the sky had grown dark. Hiding and hidden as small as she could make herself. Blood dripped from the wall next to her, her head hurt she opened her eyes light glinted in – she wished it hadn’t. She groaned and tried to turn away from the light only to find a iron ring, black and pitted fastening her to where she was.

There was a taste of copper in her mouth and her teeth felt wobbly when she probbed them with her dry tongue, she remembered the pie and moaned in hunger. She opened her eyes squintily this time to check out exactly were she was. A small stone room, damp with brown slime oozing down the walls and green moss in long tooth like straggles from where light came in a high window behind her. In front of her was a barred opening – she looked at the stone and realised they’d pretty much just put some bars on a cave. It wasn’t a very deep one, there was a wooden bench half rotted to one side of her – the shackles had obviously been put in afterwards.

She’d been stupid, so unbelieveably stupid she should have taken the pie to the woods to eat it, the way she was dressed would have told them all she’d been living a life of vagrancy.

However there was no point in dwelling on her mistakes what she had to worry about now was how the hell she was going to get out of this mess. There was no priest to rescue her this time, her and the Father had split company before she’d even entired the town. At the least she was looking at a two week stay in the stocks at the worst a hanging. She wasn’t sure which she would prefer to be honest, stocks hurt – alot. And she’d survived hangings before her neck was harder to break than it should be and her wind pipe seemed somehow… well armoured but it wasn’t very nice and there was always the chance that this time she wouldn’t be so lucky.

She wondered if the English judicial system had any reprieve for women – some did some didn’t some wouldn’t allow pregnant women to be locked up other’s didn’t care. She had no idea what this one was going to be like – was it best to pretend to be a boy agian?

It was chilly and her sacks were just out of reach – this was a shame becuase she was awfully thirsty, though she did feel a tad sick. She begain to get bored, humming to herself rocking trying to keep the chill out. A while later, a time expanse that could have been minutes or days but was probably about an hour and a half a shadow fell across the bars and a youngish man in armour appeared. This wasn’t the sort of armour nights had but the sort that let you walk about and generally still function properly.

He begain to speak to her roughly in English again she could under stand sort of what he was saying but only the over all meaning not the individual words really. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand.’ She said shaking her head wondering if she should have used Latin instead of French. The man puased and looked at her, as if for the first time. She remembered how the soilder on the road had done something similar. She tired the same sentance in Latin. His eyes went wide.

He turned and left and she wondered if she had just signed her death warrent. A while later just as she was beginning to get really bored again with the danger of thoughts turning to memories the man turned up again to block out her light – this time he had a portly middle aged man with him.

‘He says you speak Latin and French?’ he asked in a booming voice in French.

‘Well yes of course.’ she said falling back on her normal personality trait of being sultry and defient. The big man sighed his nose was a virolent red she notted with little viens running across it.

‘How old are you?’ he asked.

She hesitated, what should she say?

He looked at her and she tried to make herself small with the idea that maybe she wouldn’t be a threat to him that way and that he might not notice she was female. Not that it was really very obvious with all the layers of clothing she was wearing.

‘Thirteen?’ he asked. She shrugged, to be honest she didn’t have a clue how old she was.

‘I think and this is only a guess mind,’ he said in an annoyingly perental manor, ‘you’ve decided you don’t like your place in court and run away thinking you can get home and have gotten lr yourself?’ She stared at him blankly wondering what he was talking about.

‘Common young man – I think we should get you cleaned up and into some proper cloths before we send you back, tell me are you a new title or old?’ She didn’t really get what he was talking about so she said old – it was always best to tell the trueth it saved making up and remembering the lies.

He nodded sagely, the younger man unlocked her manckle and then she was being sheparded out of the cell and into the town. Straight to the mancipal buildings. He saw he staring at the building grand for its day with the new archetecture that would come to typify the time period. Big thick oak beams making a pleasant geometric pattern in a light brown with yellow paste panels between. It had elaborate scroll work on the coving on the window and door gables. This was an expensive building. ‘I’m the Justice of the Peace. And you are lucky that Sid here realised that your nobility other wise you’d have found yourself in stocks though if it is Henry’s court you’ve run away from you may well find yourself in them anyway to teach you a lesson!’ He chuckled aimably and she relaxed slightly though what she was going to about keeping up this fortuatous deception she wasn’t sure.

‘What gave me away?’ she asked becuase she needed to know so she didn’t undermine her position.

‘You can not speak English, French and Latin you excel in though and then the older more educated styles of them. I think you may like court English if you give it a chance, it is less rouhg and the King is quiet keen to have it used. Your actually from Europe aren’t you?’ She shook her head – well she wasn’t.

He looked at her questioningly, ‘I just spent a lot of time there.’ he nodded in that sagely I know everything manor again that was starting to really get on her wick.

‘Word to the wise then be careful which religon you show allegance too the Holy Emporer is fast going out favour but the there are militant factions who would chew up and spit out a lad like you if they supected he favoured the new religon. It is a dangerous subject do you understand me?’

‘Yes sir thankyou.’ it was a dangerous thing for him to be telling her, she could report him for it if she was actually what he thought. She was in the middle of a war zone it seemed, again.

She was taken into the building and led into a side room with a wash stand, the basin full of steaming water, a serving girl scutteled and came back with a suit of cloths, fine and ornate and she wasn’t entirely sure she knew how they were supposed to be put on and on top of that there was a a shiny leather piece that looked like it was designed to make any man look well endowed. She was going to feel so stupid. The material itself was buetiful though with ornate patterns and puffy sleeves.

The girl and the judge left but the younger man didn’t, she was just starting to wonder what she was going to do about washing without blowing her cover when he spoke in broken Latin, ‘Are you tell your Lord that hit?’ She frowned and then realised he thought he’d hit a young noble and was going to be punished for it. She wanted to laugh.

‘No, I want tell I stole a pie you cuaght me it was fair.’ He looked relieved but also like he only half believed her, of course he may not have understood half of what she had just said!

He left and she hurriedly washed, the water was streaked with filth before she’d finished her face, it was black by the time she’d washed most of the rest of her – she dunked her hair in it anyway. I was so matted and greasy she though that it was probably just repelling the water.

She brushed it out ferroucly and it hurt but she felt much better for it. The cloths were hard to put on and bizzarly not as comftable as the rags she had been wearing. They were stiff and formal with very little give. She felt like a prize plum and thought she probably looked like one.

At least this fashion ment she didn’t have to worry about bit showing that shouldn’t be there and bit not being there that should be. She looked in a large burnished mirror made from a polished metal sheet. She looked, well like a young noble he was preening, urg! She hated the fact she did that.

She should be worrying about how she was going to get round the fact she didn’t know the names of any Lords or anyhthing.

The Justice came back after a while adn took her down to a large room with shiny polished wood paneling, there were long banquet tables stretched out, three of them to be presiss stretching the length of the entire room. There were stools at them adn it was obviously some sort of canteen.

‘I assume that if you were stealing pies and from the hollows of your cheeks that you are very hungry?’ She nodded and he grinned perternally again.

They sat at a table and a girl borught them over plates and goblets and the like. She then begain putting food down on the table. To her relief a huge fish was placed before her, mouth watering she breathed in its aroma, the silver scales gleamed at her, she felt she would devour the whole thing.

She was cut a goodly stake from it and was served it with some chicken, and a few sort of cursory green vegitables. She begain craming it into her mouth and then remembered she was supposed to be a noble and so watched what the Justice was doing so she could copy but he was sitting there laughing at her, she flushed and felt angry.

‘You really are hungry!’ he laighed a full roaring belly laugh that had her wanting to hide. She ginerlly picked at the rest emmulating how others in the room were eating. Many were moaning that it was the wronge day of the week and how they longed for a good steak pie. She made a mental note. Food appeared to be subject to legal monertering. Of course this was the case in a lot of Europe but was rarely strictly enforced. No meat on Fridays etc… it was in the Bible. She gritted her teeth at that thought and hide the unbidden memories that tried to stream in.

The fish was good, the chicken was well chicken and the greens were boiled enough to make them pretty much pointless. The doors of the banquest hall opened just as she was sipping some more of her drink – it was some sort of strange alcoholic beverage, but not very strong, it wasn’t cider and it wasn’t beer, but it was frothy and full of enough muste to give just about anyone a headache. But water in a town was not really to be drunk, she had learnt that one the hard way.

The young solder came in followed by the Priest she snorted into her goblet.

EP=Elizabeth Punk and represents the Punk as Queen Elizabeth the First of England

FP=Future Punk and is the Punk in Pink!

Prologue

Chapter One EP Wondering Tudor England

Chapter Two Working on a Cruse island

Chapter Three EP Decides to settle down

Chapter Four About to make it big with band – but odd things start happening

Chapter Five EP Love Interest in the way of one of the Monks

Chapter Six Attempt on her life

Chapter Seven EP Evidence that the Punk is being hunted down

Chapter Eight Her and her band are chucked out of their job/home etc…

Chapter Nine EP decission to dress as a boy to hide as a novice monk

Chapter Ten Begins to be sucked into an underworld of society

Chapter Eleven EP Attack resulting in her almost being revieled

Chapter Twelve Random cult appears to be after her

Chapter Thirteen Henry Carey Arrives to be educated

Chapter Fourteen Start to uncover plot to destroy her bands career

Chapter Fifteen EP Friendship with the Carey’s developes

Chapter Sixteen Finds out about bomb plot and decideds to intercede

Chapter Severteen EP Princess Elizabeth arrives at Overcourt

Chapter Eighteen This is a known weakness of the Punk and is a trap

Chapter Nineteen EP Becomes friends with princess

Chapter Twenty Trap is to actually get to talk to her about a raid on the British museum

Chapter Twenty-One EP Elizabeth dies and decissions about cover up are made Spanish plot involved

Chapter Twenty-Two The Punk is upset and disturbed by some of the stolen items

Chapter Twenty-Three EP A proposition arrives for Henry Carey

Chapter Twenty-Four Argument with the trappers about what she is going to do next

Chapter Twenty-Five EP A double deception where the Punk dresses as Carey for the Lords arrival

Chapter Twenty-Six Ends up taking thier credit and agreeing that her band will play the orbitals

Chapter Twenty-Seven EP Punk finds herself pretending to be a boy dressed as the dead Princess

Chapter Twenty-Eight Issue getting to the orbitals

Chapter Twenty-Nine EP an attempt is made on Elizabeth’s a.k.a the Punks Life

Chapter Thirty Does some research in the orbital

Chapter Thirty-One EP Edwards rien

Chapter Thirty-Two Third night of playing – assination attempt

Chapter Thirty-Three EP Mary’s rein

Chapter Thirty-Four Local law inforcement want to be involved

Chapter Thirty-Five EP Mary names Elizabeth Heir and Punk tries to defect

Chapter Thirty-Six Love interest starts with one of the officers

Chapter Thirty-Seven EP Punk realises the only place she is actually safe is as Queen

I realise that I do not yet know enough Elizabethan History to continue this outline but as it takes me past what I need for 2009 nanowrimo it does not matter – I know the over all story arch so as long as I remain within that I should be ok!

Hopefully as I research I’ll be able to fill this in bit by bit!

Chapter Thirty-Nine Chapter Forty Chapter Forty-One Chapter Forty-Two Chapter Forty-Three Chapter Forty-Four Chapter Forty-Five Chapter Forty-Six Chapter Forty-Seven Chapter Forty-Eight Chapter Forty-Nine Chapter Fifty Chapter Fifty-One Chapter Fifty-Two Chapter Fifty-Three Chapter Fifty-Four Chapter Fifty-Five Chapter Fifty-Six Chapter Fifty-Seven Chapter Fifty-Eight Chapter Fifty-Nine Chapter Sixty Chapter Sixty-One Chapter Sixty-Two Chapter Sixty-Three Chapter Sixty-Four Chapter Sixty-Five Chapter Sixty-Six Chapter Sixty-Seven Chapter Sixty-Eight Chapter Sixty-Nine Chapter Seventy Chapter Seventy-One Chapter Seventy-Two Chapter Seventy-Three Chapter Seventy-Four

Chapter Seventy-Five Epilogue

Ok I know that prologue and Epilogue aren’t chapters – but for my word count they most certainly are!

Snake helped her pack away her decks Bodge as always sodded off, the Punk wished Snake would go as well as her resolve was fast leaving her. He looked like a physists she had once know who looked like a teacher she’d once learned with who looked like… the list went on and on and she didn’t wish to add anyone else to it.

Besides Snake was a good friend and she wanted to keep him for as long as possible and when they turned into lovers they never lasted as long, they always felt their betrayels more than she did, their guilt gnawring at they’re belly’s. She didn’t want that for him, for her for them. He was that ghost again and he should remain just that a ghost and not a concrete memory.

He got her another two beers and they headed out to the lock up.

‘You were great tonight.’ he said gently – she ignored him.

He helped her unload the decks unsutterly brushing against her, she was getting angerer. They locked up the equipment and then tehy were in the corridor. And then he standing in her face, his boney fingers caressing her cheek, her heart raced and the world shot away. Just him only him he lent in to kiss her. The anger snapped and she punched him. He made a soft ‘o’ sound and slumped away from her.

She ran – all the way back to her room, tears burning in her eyes, anger, shame, excitement pushing at her. She didn’t actually burst into tears until she was in her room. She looked at her reflextion the flushed checks and tears streaming, red eyes raw and brighter than normal even her contacts not hiding the emrald shine to them. Her make-up remained annoyingly perfect like everything in this new world. She took the shape clip out of her hair and watch the moheccian loose coherance, magenta hair cascaded down to rest on her shoulders.

Her pink lips pouted in frustratio, big and full and desperate to kiss. Damn him! Friendship thats what she needed not another lover to leave her cold. Not that it really mattered to her as she withered inside everytime one of her friends died and she’d had alot of them over the years – they all faded with time – she knew she’d fogotten more than she could remember but that just somehow made it worse – she’d rather remember them all clearly or none at all rather than have stronge vibrant memories she knew would drift away from her.

She punch the hard shiny surface of her desk dresser – stark white like so much else in the room.

The hotel siddehly seemed closed in to her – she wanted to swim. She headed to the door and then remembered she was in her still suit, sighing she removed the acid pink bomber and stripped from the suit syphoning off the days bounty of purified bodily fluids – it was just sweat as in a built up civilised zone like the Holiday islands she didn’t bother cathertering up – that was for deep desert and the orbitals.

She changed into her swimming gear – neon pink and less reveiling than the current fashion would have her. She padded bare foot down the hall to the pool – she wanted to swim in the salt of the sea but things were still alittle too polluted, and she didn’t really want random radioactives being absorbed into her body becuase it had mistaken them for calcium or something – bone cancer was not something she particulally wanted.

The smell of the sea cuaght her – so close but she’d resisted for this long.

She climbed into the warm chlorinated water of the swimming pool – there was a wave machine running on its minimium setting sending little ripples through the water – the moon was bright in the sky the orbitals were highlighted by it somehow giving the impression of ghost ships in the sky. The pool was deserted she swam, stretching her long arms and legs out looking graceful and gangly at the same time. Her muscels where defined and altheltic looking, she felt the burn from the dance routines and the tension from seeing the strange goth-madoner melt away in her strokes.

She was an efficient swimmer the water seemed a natural medium to her, she would spend all day in a pool if she could. In many ways the holiday islands were the best possible place for music, mechanics to tinker with, sea food and water to swim in but it couldn’t reveal what she needed to her but for now it was a place she could recover.

Besides she really did need to pay the Corp back for the Sky Bike.

She dived under the surface her magenta hair streaming around her in a purple tinged cloud as she twisted round and kicked her feet together. Again the strange fancy she always had since an old Dutch fairy tale had landed in her lap – she was a mermaid, she could breath under water she was part of the ocean.

She difted to the surface and lay floating on her back the remnant heat of the day stroking her face. In quieter times when she had a full belly and there was no maniacs after her she often pondered the mermaid thing – oh she knew she wasn’t but she did love fish and swimming so.

She became awear that someone else was there – not sure how but a vague prickling of her scalp – with out the hair former in she shouldn’t have been feeling anything like it but she was. She turned her head slowely gently to the side so as to not allow who ever it was to realise she had rumbled them.

‘Snake!’ she hissed angerily. He slinked out of the shadows looking guilty and like he thought she was going to kill him. She didn’t know weather to laugh or cry.

‘erm..’ he said shifting clumsily from foot to foot. ‘I’m sorry…’ he blushed and with resignation she rolled over and swam to the side of the pool and hoisted herself out. Poised at the side of the pool she glowed luminous giving the impression of a coiled cat. She stood and shook herself, the magenta hair lay in dark ribbons around her face, Snake stood there gormluss mouth open and hair tinged blue in the lighting.

‘I thought…’ he begain and then thought better of what ever it was he was going to say – it didn’t matter though she had literially heard it all before. She smiled sadly at him, He handed her her towl – it was retro kitch with the picture of some hideously cute cat on it with a flower by one of it’s ears.

She patted herself down and then begain to walk to her room again – she couldn’t quiet decided weather she wanted to be on her own or not. Snake followed behind uncertainly. At her door he begain to hope from foot to foot she sighed heavily.

‘You coming in for coffee or what?’ He looked at her with bright eyes – blue – he’d taken the turn table contacts out. It was a viscous question in some ways – she knew he hated coffee and yet it was the standard way to give someone permission to enter your room, it had been for a couple of hundred years. He nodded without thinking and followed her in.

A maliscous smile pulled at her lips as she put the kettle on – she’d make him a cup and see what happened she was still narked with him well aware that the issues where all hers – that just made her more annoyed at him though.

He looked at the cup of black liquid and gingerlly pretended to sip it, she saw distaste and fear skitter across his face. He then put the steaming liquid on her white cabinate. She giggled at his unease and then suddenly she was having a laughing fit, he looked at her smiling uncertianly.

‘You hate coffee!’ she snorted, he looked angry for a moment but then chuckeled.

‘Well yes.’ He said grinning lopsided.

‘Do you want a smoothy?’ she asked through snorts. He nodded and she fetch a glass.

They both sat on the bed as there wasn’t really anywhere else, ‘I’m sorry’ he said agian, ‘I must have misread things.’ She ingnored the statement.

‘What do you want from life?’ she asked suddenly suprising herself.

‘erm…’ he begain uncertianly, she smiled sadly as he rubbed the back of his head in embarrassement. ‘I sort of want a family – but like way down the line.’ She nodded she could tell that, had known it about him since the first week they’d worked together. They did a kids disco every wednesday afternoon and his body language had shown her that answer.

‘You don’t want me Snake.’ she said quietly.

‘I know were too young for kids and stuff’ he said. She snorted again but without the merryment that statement was more than rediculous when applied to her.

‘Snake’ she said heavily, ‘I can’t have kids’ this conversation was the one that always killed her inside. The silence stretched.

‘But there are doctors and stuff these days…’ she shrugged and looked away – it was true though she doubted they would be able to do much, not yet.

‘They can even grow wombs if you don’t have one.’ He blushed obviously thinking he’d been insensitive which as always he had. He was so young, so kind, she felt her eyes burn. NO! She had seen battle fields and never cried what was happening to her in this safe moddecoddled world?

‘I have a womb, I just have the wronge chromosone set up or something.’ She stared straight ahead.

He sighed and moved in closer to her. He touched her cheek with his long fingers – they were cold. ‘We could like adopt or do a surrogate or something?…’ He stammered a qualifier ‘in the future of course.’

She smiled he hadn’t been the first to suggest that either but that brought its own problems and hardships she could not bear, perants should not outlive children her stomach churned.

She shook her head locking the tears away with the thousands of others she had refused to shed. He moved in closer, his body pressing in next to her. ‘Look thats all way off in the future, we don’t have to think on them, you might decide you hate me or something way before then.’

She looked at him, looked at his young eyes, looked at the ghost she always saw in these boys and knew she had fallen again, knew her soul was going to be shredded in extacy and pain once more. She stroked his cheek and smiled faintly. She pulled him closer to her and kissed him bitting his lower lip. He jumped and then wrapped his arms around her pulling her as close as he could, it was like he was trying to devour her.

Urgantly he shrugged off his coat and she rocked them back unsutly onto the bed, twenty minutes later and she was turning the light off, curled up with him under the thin sheet. His warmth was pleasant on her back even if his breathing deep and heavy already was annoyingly ticklish. It was only as concousness drifted from her that she wondered were on earth her alarm clock had got too. The lumonous dial should have been staring at her from the window sill. She decided she must have nocked it down adn forgot about it in an exhorsted sleep haze.

Ok so basically inorder to even start writing the Punk in Pink I’ve had to write a fleshed out – outline. The finished article will no doubt be completely different from this but I have to do this inorder to actually have a skeleton to base things on!

Thinking about it I have decided that each chapter should have a beginning, middle and end and that each will be a complete scene of the story. They will be approximatly 6000 words each – allowing easy breakdown into my 2000 word bites. I have no idea how this fits with convention either :/

If I’m aiming at the book being 150, 000 words long then this makes for 75 chapters! That seems alot of chapters to be honest but I’ll go with it for now.

This means that during nanowrimo I need to get 25 chapters written which is about the number of chapters slim books have so maybe its not so out!

The chapters are going to be alternating – so Future Punk, Elizabethan Punk, Future Punk etc…

I’m not entirely sure which to have first – was thinking of her dreaming a recurring dream in as both or something but need to think on that a bit I feel.

Right so best type up that Chapter Plan then!

She took another gulp of the burnt sugar tasting beer and nodded. Snake pulled a face, ‘its soo bad for you you realise.’ She shrugged and glugged some more – the dramatic effect was some waht ruined by her sloshing some of it onto her chin.

Silence stretched but it was companuable and she absorbed the metaphorical warmth from him, eventually he spoke, ‘you on the decks tonight?’

‘Of course’ she said.

He looked side ways at her, ‘you sure your not over doing it… I know your trying to pay for the bike as quickly as poss but you can’t keep this pace up you know.’

She sighed – she knew she could, she remebered exactly what hardships she’d been through and DJing was the least of them. Even if she was starting to feel drained and transparent like she was fading. ‘I get to sup the bike tomorrow.’ was her response.

He grinned, ‘can I help with that?’ she gave him a sharp look, he blushed, ‘I mean make you cups of tea and things?’ She smiled and gave a noncomital nod. Company would be good as long as he didn’t start rambling on about the latest cult gaming method he’d found. Her fingures begain to itch again, the engine was calling to her.

The suns warmth was soaking into her, soon she’d be far to hot but the dreams had been coming more lately and she remberred being so cold it had gotten into her bones. After a while Alexi came and shoed them away.

The Punk found herself wondering down to one of the resturants with Snake. He was he base player – he could do power cords like no one she’d met this side of the millenium, he was awkard and shy with a dress style garenteed to alienate him. She loved him.

This fact bubbled anger in her and she chose to ignore it, knowing where this feeling would leave and not wanting that yet again. They sat in the Underwater Room, the resturant was below the water line in a transparent bubble jutting out of the side of the island. She loved it here, she loved to swim in the water though had been avoiding doing so as it was still highly polluted from several centuries of polution – the mirade fish species swimming around the walls – bred from genetic rescues in captivity. Her mind could entire a tranquile state in that place, the blue rippled light made her take her lenses off and dream of mermaids.

She order the prawn cumbo and sat at a widow seat – the curve made her feel she was floating in the sea, she hummed gently whilst staring at the fish darting about. Snake watched her intently.

He ordered a kelp salad. She demolished the cumbo and sipped another beer. She felt bloated and nerves for that nights performance began to enter into her mind. She watched snake pick at his salad intent on making sure he wasn’t accidently ingesting any bugs. She grinned and he looked up.

‘What?’ she shook her head and wondered about the perculuarities of the human animal.

‘I was thinking of trying a new set tongiht,’ she said eventually – he looked at her suprised.

‘I was thinking transgressive goth?’ he whistled, ‘ yeah I’m abit worried about how it will go down .’

‘Do it as a mixed set with some electronica?’ he suggested.

‘Thats an idea.’ she said nodding. Her clientelle where holiday makers who had heard of the historical Ibiza and Magaluff and wanted clubbing old style. But they didn’t know thier history and all the music styles had been lumped together – their was a vague sense of the sub-culters in the way people dressed. But recently their had been an influx of youth who did know what they liked and they were pressing for more of the edge musics and the Punk was egar to cater to them the music being what she her self championed.

She quaffed the rest of her beer and ordered a meso soup to go – salty thin soups preferably made with fish where a peference of hers and she had a craving watching all those fish swimming around. She also wanted to go swimming but needed to get her decks ready for show.

Snake followed her to the lock up where she sorted out her mobile decks – selecting which retro style lazar discs to take with her – DJing was more than hitting buttons people expected a show and that didn’t just mean audio. She through in her light boxes and Insipids instraments, live music always featured when she DJed. Snakes mouth twisted with disgust, ‘I really hate being a hack’ he muttered, she snorted.

‘It pays your food bills doesn’t it?’

He glared at her and she felt a strange sense of saticfaction.

They wheeled the trolly the rest of the way in silence. The Club was starting to look populated – mainly by staff and thier current holiday maker flings. Her and Snake begain to put the deck together making sure the optics where all in place – this was going to be a show with lights and effects, dry ice, foam and bubbles would also feature heavily.

She even had strings of lights imbedded in plastic tubing and roller skates. After 2 hrs of hard graft they were set up. They were just missing Bodge his drums where all set up and her decks and e-organ combined awaited her.

Bodge arrived 1/2 hour before the club was due to open – as always he was in a PVC dress this time a nun outfit complet with shiny plastic habit and a large glittering cross. His lipsticked lips surrounded by designer stubble trained into concentric lines on his chin and cheeks, he pouted. The Punk scowled at him, ‘Your late’ she snapped. He shrugged and they all sat down at a table still sticky from the previous night to disguess the evenings performance.

And then… And then it was show time!

The lights dimmed the glitter, leatherette adn denim clad partitioneers entered sporting the styles they thought had been around in the 20th century and getting it completely and utterly wronge – most of it was out of chroma which to be fair if it had existed in the sixties would have been used extensively but the subtle hippy patterns spent there time changing and shifting or at the very least changing colouors. The resident bacteria with there waste product pigments – food for other bacteria within the the microtubes of transparent buckytubes. The eithics of the clothing which were ecologies within their won right self contianed and potentially without limit had been an argument belonging to the last century. No conclusion had ever been reached and the cloths cycled through the various layers of society being tough and resilent as they were diverse.

Living art, it was somehow – tacky.

Glitter, PVC and a whole lot more paced within the Punks sight as she started the music thumping into the air. The light show followed quickly on its heels, the crowd were already swaying with the beat and she felt the pull of the evening – this twang inside her was what made this the best job she had ever had. The music filled her up until she was undulating with it. Her and Snake robot dancing with perfection. The choroyography of the Boy Band meets the swaying of the goth meet the moshing of the skater – the music was a living creature in her brian within her pulse. She summersulted and landed in the splits and then broke into a breack dance – emenently difficult as her hair was not designed for such moves.

She back flipped up right and went into an undulation dance which kicked into a tap performance and then she was rezing her decks once more, mixing tunes ad-hoc and gauging the audience reaction.

There were some dancing and some looking around awed – she kicked arse, at the back however there was a woman dressed all in black with a shiny white face ending in a widows peak just standing there, the Punk had to check the decs and when she looked back the woman was gone. The Punk hoped she’d imagined it shock herself at least mentally and continued into her next dance rutine.

An hour and a half later when the only reason she wasn’t dripping with sweat was becuase she was wearing a still suit she put on her pre-perpared track list and had a well earned sit down with the other two. She quaffed a litre and a half of water and chomped her way through a couple of portions of bar nuts.

The next set was were they actually played music and it was her favourite bit. She threw the last nut into her mouth and looked out across the club her lights flashing away making patterns on the walls, cieling and floor, she froze – that same pale face was staring at her. She turned to Snake to point the woman out but when she looked back she was again gone.

The Punks stomache gave a flip.

As a result her mind wasn’t on her gig and she slipped out of time with boys not once but twice, when they stopped for their second break she begain frantically scanning the crowd.

‘You ok?’ Snake asked, she nodded absantly at him.

‘You’re not’ was his response. Bodge showed he agreed with Snake. She snapped at them and stalked off to the toliets.

In the cubical as she aimed for the ‘liquid gold’ pot she felt bad – she should have confided in the boys instead of bitting their heads off but what if it was them what if they had finially decided to track her down again and worse what it it was the others if it was them then Snake and Bodge would be in danger – hell from what she had worked out the whole human race was in trouble if those dudes were about. Cursing to herself she realised that only half her pee had hit the gold pot – she’d only get half pay that ment. Nitrogen was prescouis and urine was a good concentrated form of it – all the toliets were designed with a gold pot you tried to get the wee in and the shit dip that went off for processing into she beleived floor tiles though she had heard that some people made jewellery from it.

As she was leaving the cubical a flash of black cuaght her eye but it was leaving into the main club so she couldn’t be sure – she should just leave NOW. But she didn’t want to, she was sure she was just being paranoid – it was probably just some girl who’d actually researched what goth dress was really like. She swollowed her mouth dry and re-entered the club.

The last third of the evening was basically an old school DJ set except that after each tune had been faded into the next they would go out amoungst the dancers and show them how to do various dance moves – sell them glow sticks and allow them to dance with her tubes of lights. Towards the end of the night the floor was slippery with bubble mix and spilt drinks – people always seemed to enjoy skidding around and pretending it was an ice rink once the lights had flipped on and the music stopped.

The pale face didn’t appear again and she started to relax – once more her parrania had gotten teh better of her.

She sank another two beers as she packed away her gear but as they were 2.8 % she didn’t think she’d even feel the alcohol in her system. Snake was watching her wearily waiting to have his head bitten off again, she felt bad for shouting at them earlier but also embarrassed and angry. Snake was getting under her skin and she didn’t want that – not again she didn’t want the hurt of being left. She pursed her lips and packed her decks away in silence.

back in 2007 I belonged to a writing group in Cheltenham and though I was basically the only one writing non-literary stuff I got good feedback (once story concepts had been explained and also explaining that the reason I hadn’t done something was becuase it was tired and done a 1000 times before etc… or that it wasn’t spelt out becuase the reader is suppose to engage and work it out etc… different reading audences). One of the things that kept coming up was my distinctive style that they had not really encountered before.

Strong and too intense for novels is what I was being told too – Science Fiction fans would tell me it was cyber-punk which I had never come across before even though I had belonged to Imperial Colleges Scifi, Horror and Fantasy Liberary at college! I was too caught up in the authors I knew and it was only at the age of 22 that I began to exhorst these and start to look for other things to read!

And cyber-punk is very like my style but it still wasn’t quiet there – though I definatly air towards the speculative fiction side of things – again this is a term I have only recently picked up as far as I can tell it means not ‘normal’ and is a pretty big catch all!

A Geologist friend of mine had read some of my work and was convinced that I should do something with it – she also started turning up with these thin tiny ‘novels’ original penguin classics with flaking spines and brown pages.

The first was Forty-Nine Steps, she thought it was relavent to me – the second was Raymond Chandlers Big Sleep. I didn’t read it for almost two years and then I was stuck for something to read and grabbed the smallest book I could find to stuff into my over fall bag. The slim green and white book fitted well.

I was off to a poetry slam, my first – I wasn’t reading at this one just observing. I found myself in a dingy club/pub/bar in Cheltenham – the sort of place that students prop up with the Doors playing in the background, yellowed lights, glitzy 70’s style lights mixed with tiffany wear from the 20’s and funky mirrors and painting of musicians – mostly Jazz and Rock types done in contrasting colours – you know the type of place – lots of sofas and little square leatherette cubs to sit on.

I was early as was helping the organiser set up but other people where helping so I pulled the book out and wham! There was my voice talking to me – there was a detective and he was gritty and it was dark and real and seedy. Excitedly i showed the book around and got lots of odd looks but as I’m the sort of person who takes novels into nightclubs I’m used to those. It’s strong story telling was what I got out of people – again its not the fabled literary stuff that we are all supposed to be attaining too – but I didn’t care!

This was it! The only flaw in it was that it didn’t contain the scifi element or the vampires or the fearies or anything like that – no ghosts and the society was one that existed and a projection of one specific aspect of our own society gone awall – a theme I love using – I form whole stories around the world and how the characters are hampered by the social construct they live in.

Anyway I was then intreged as to how the book felt so familiar and how I would have ended up with sort of concept in my head and then my dad informed me that I was obsessed with films such as the Maltese Falcon – I had watched the films of Raymond’s books as a child sitting with my Nan and had obviously absorbed some of it!

Then I thought well why does cyber-punk sound so similar to these old detective novels? It turns out that cyber-punk really is trying to emulate these old novels 🙂 So rather than me writing a combo of cyber-punk and old detective novels I’m just writing cyber-punk thats these about the tech and more about the gritty adventure/events of the story!

I first posted about this concept and some other writing theories on my personal blog which is an interesting read in itself!