In my 7th January IWSG post, I discussed what I was considering doing with ‘Fevered Fuse’, the first of my Snowdon Shadows novels, featuring Sparkle Anwyl. Having pulled back from the traditional publishing route after a few reactions/comments to the first rejection, I began looking at serialising it on Substack, but I only have four followers. Here I have 980, even if the number drops for most posts.
Therefore, I have decided to post ‘Fevered Fuse’ on Writing Wings in serial form, starting today with Chapter One. However, as soon as I realise fewer people are interested than the numbers reading Freedom Flights, then I’ll no longer bore you. The next episode of Freedom Flights has been delayed due to personal issues.
Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome.
FEVERED FUSE
A Snowdon Shadows Mystery
by
Roland Clarke
(Police Procedural Fiction)
Chapter One
Shadow Assailant
Friday 25th March 2016
Was the text a trick?
‘Urgnt meet @ SA. Plz. CU1900. C’
My tattoos tingle, so I tap on a random rivet fastening my leather wristband. My mind imagines the initial letters of clues to get a anagram. One tap for each letter. My Cryptograph habit is as constant as my wrist bracer.
T for Text and Talsarnau. C for Cadell or Carys?
Neither come inside the Ship Aground. Not Cadell the manic offender, nor Carys the disarming importer. Both need me sometimes. Why here in Talsarnau?
But nobody approaches me as I remain drinking and watching. Listening to Welsh gossip. Reading lips slurring our language.
Do people know what I am?
Tattoos tingle and fingers tap out letter clues on my black biker bracer.
N for No-show. M for Mystery. O for Offender and I for Importer.
Are these clues I should pursue?
S for Ship and Secrets. A for Aground and Absent. C for Cadell and Carys. R for Reason and Ruse.
I leave.
Nobody follows as I trudge to my motorbike in the shadow of a tree. Moonlight glints on metallic black, and I mount, easing on my helmet.
NARCOTICS.
C for Cryptology – my Cryptograph. Are my weird acronym mind-games misleading me? But the childhood quirk has kept me ahead and alive – and some say indispensable.
Who sent the text?
Cadell, who bullied and stole, but never touched drugs.
Carys, whose brother dealt in replica art. She has a way with everyone – especially us girls.
ROMANTICS
My phone rings.
I answer on my earpiece. ‘Sparkle Anwyl.’
A moving shadow makes me duck. But the blow smashes me off the bike.
Darkness engulfs me as the words lime-green is not cool swamp my throbbing brain.
**
295 Words
Writing Wings 