Dark Nemesis V, Blades Of Vengeance, by A J Hawkins

DNV LogoHaving written Spirits & Shards: Falling, I was working diligently on the much denser follow-up, Firebrand, when I became ill with ME. Unable to use a computer for more than a few minutes at a time for several months, I feared I might not be able to finish this saga. But just as ME sufferers can crash, so too can they have good periods.
I decided to turn my attention to Dark Nemesis, a much smaller story that’s actually a fiction-wihin-a-fiction of the S&S Universe. Feeling I needed something that had the cultural impact in that world that Star Wars has had in ours, I used this series that I wrote over fifteen years ago, deciding to ditch everything but the spirit of that original saga and begin again.
This is chapter 9 of that new story, and still very much a work in progress, but I very much wanted to be able to share something new with you all. I hope you like it.

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-Feline Guardians- A J Hawkins

A Flash Fiction Piece

Amber sat on the kitchen counter, staring intently at the corner above the far cupboard. Her keen eyes allowed her to see the faint shadow moving in the darkness, waiting to pounce… but she would be the one who did that. It was her job. She would be damned before she’d let such a thing anywhere near her Mummy or Daddy.

Amber gracefully leapt across the gap between the two counters and quickly scaled the cupboards, cautiously approaching the ethereal thing, which seemed to be afraid of her. Good. It should be. Amber crouched, never taking her eye off it, when she heard the sound of Mummy’s car outside. She had to act before it was too late. She wiggled her rear and pounced, grabbing the shifting, struggling thing between her front paws, quickly and greedily devouring it, which was always difficult.

The taste of these things were vile, nothing like those tasty birds she liked to chase in next door’s garden. Amber had once heard Mummy and Daddy talk about a dog that had eaten a blanket, and she had wondered why any creature would do such a thing. Dogs were stupid, sure, but maybe it mistook the blanket for one of these terrible, wayward things. Amber imagined this was what eating a blanket would be like, chewing and swallowing, chewing and swallowing, seemingly no end in sight. And after all that would come the horrible sensation of both hunger and nausea that would result in her endlessly washing herself to build up an almighty hairball to get its remains out of her, before they made her ill.

Jaffa didn’t often get one of these things, she was far too fat and lazy for that, but when she did, she preferred overindulging in biscuits to expunge the remnants. Whatever worked. Finally, Amber finished eating the darn thing just moments before the kitchen door was opened. She leapt down onto the fridge, then the kitchen table, mewing enthusiastically for attention as Mummy and Daddy greeted her, safe in the knowledge that she had once again saved them from a wayward spirit, looking for a new body to conquer. After all, they looked after her. It was only fair that she returned the favour.


close_up_clocks_gold_gears_clockwork_watch_1920x1080_55519Bernard arrived at the bus stop and glanced at his watch: 7:32. Plenty of time. He hadn’t thought he’d make it, having materialised so far away. His old heart was beating heavily from the run. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could do, but he wouldn’t stop. Not until he had to. Not until time finally caught up with him.

He sat on the hard plastic bench, unfolded the newspaper he had tucked under his left armpit, and tried to look as natural as possible. People and buses came and went, but still Bernard waited for that one person, that special someone he’d travelled all this way to see.

His attention was caught by a woman calling to him, asking whether he needed help boarding the bus. The step was quite a distance from the pavement, she explained. He ‘thanked’ her rather curtly, annoyed by the unwelcome distraction. He explained impatiently that although he was rapidly approaching his seventieth year he was perfectly capable of crossing the short distance, adding that he was waiting for someone. Sometimes he wished he could become invisible. It would make things a whole lot easier. Continue reading

Picking Up The Pieces by AJ Hawkins

Kristy waved frantically, desperately trying to push him away. The knife in his hand gleamed in the sunlight shining through the kitchen window. It was such a beautiful day… he seemed so calm as he grabbed a handful of her long hair, holding it above her head. She was powerless to resist as the point of the blade pierced her neck. A moment later she caught a hazy glimpse of herself in a nearby mirror, with nothing below her blood-dripping severed neck…

She awoke sitting bolt upright, screaming, brandishing her pillow at thin air. Her skin was damp with cold sweat. Throwing the quilt to one side, she used the dull light of dawn peeking through a tiny gap in the curtains to scan her body and the sheets, but there was no blood. It was all just a dream… only it wasn’t. It was a terrifyingly vivid recurring memory.

Calming herself lest she do herself an injury, Kristy realised then just how big, empty and cold her bed had become. Her old life was irrecoverably gone… why couldn’t things have stayed the same, just for a little longer?

A glance at the clock revealed that it was only two; little wonder she still felt so incredibly groggy. She’d had nowhere near enough sleep, but that pesky little scamp called sleep had escaped her for the day. Though she had nowhere to go and nothing to do, she decided to get up. Her psychiatrist had insisted it was best to maintain at least some sense of routine anyway. She yearned for the day when she would awaken feeling alert and refreshed. To just have that one salubrious sleep… perhaps then she’d be able to believe that she would eventually be able to get on with her life, rather than being stuck inside all day every day being useless. It was that feeling she begrudged the most. Continue reading

The Big City by A J Hawkins


John walked down the slowly quietening street. It was a pleasantly warm spring day, though the sun was now sitting at that annoying height where it was impossible to shield one’s eyes from it, and shops were preparing to close. It had been a long day, but he was still smiling widely. The meeting had gone far better than he’d expected. He couldn’t wait to get home and begin making the necessary preparations.

But he could’t fight that nagging feeling that he had forgotten something… maybe it was just paranoia. He patted his pockets to be sure. Train tickets, check… wallet, check… keys, check… phone… shit. Continue reading