| Welcome to Politics... |
Border Line
The Terrorist...Jon McGregor was pacing across Bill Milne’s office at four minutes past midnight when the phone finally rang. Bill pounced on it, stating bluntly, “Hello.” “Speakerphone,” Jon hissed, turning towards the window. The room was filled with an ominous greeting of, “Bill. Hi Jon, I know you’re there.” The neutral tone of Lee Cheng echoed about the room, erupting from the speaker on the desk as though it were a sprinkler system, and covering the whole room. Bill had to admit that the digital speaker system was effective. “Lee,” Jon spat irritably, “I gave youThe Terrorist...
by *vito-toni-costello
Border Line Chapter 13Chapter 13Border Line Chapter 13
Because it was approaching five o’clock, Robbie McManus stretched out his legs, and placed his feet onto his mahogany desk. He loosened his tie, unfastened his collar, and slouched back in his chair. He remained in what, if asked, he would call his thought-spinning position. It was the habit of the most influential man in Scotland to take a quick nap towards the end of his working day, and it was one of the factors that had increased his support in the working classes. But today, with the weekend – although for McManus that only meant a less full-up schedule – approaching, he had
by *vito-toni-costello
Border Line Chapter 12Chapter 12Border Line Chapter 12
Jon McGregor checked the progress of the lift. Floor 14. Seven floors gone, twelve to go. He leant back against the mirrored wall.
Jim McUlloch leapt down the flights of stairs, relishing each step that brought him closer to his target Jon McGregor. He glanced briefly at the sign that appeared at the entrance to the stairwell. Floor 15.
Adjusting his shirt in the lift, Jon dropped his pistol to the floor, the shining surface meeting the metallic firearm in his waistband with a clang that resounded around the enclosed space. He straightened the top. He
by *vito-toni-costello
| Genre: Political thriller Rating: 15 (or similar equivalent) Synopsis: It's 2028, and Scotland has made an audacious bid for freedom. The Prime Minister won't hear a word of it, and the two nations tumble unwillingly into warfare. Meanwhile, on the streets of Glasgow, rebel political factions wage their own version of warfare, with a fair share of terrorism thrown in for effect. Down in London, a small group of people choose a person to die. No-one knows who is in this group except the group themselves. So why does one of the group's daughter get kidnapped? And how can the kidnappers make their actual demands in the first place? Caught in the middle is Angus McIntyre, an ageing, drug-abusing mercenary who is fighting on both sides of the war with rewards above his head that could rival a monthly NHS bill... from both sides... |
The Terrorist...
| The Terrorist and the Smoke Alarm. Winner in the Tell Me a Story Contest Long Category.  |
Newest
Border Line - PrologueNewspaper article from The Times:Border Line - Prologue
BLAIR SHOT!
12/12/2028
The nation of Scotland was left shocked after the death of Peter Blair. Blair, right hand man of the Scottish National Movement's leader Charlie McGregor, took a single bullet to the chest during a rallying speech. Blair was about to step down from the podium for McGregor's speech when witnesses claim that his chest exploded in a flash of red. Nationalist security were quick on the scene, and although the Scottish Police have questioned several suspects, including, according to a source inside the force, a radical Unionist, ballistic specialists ha
by *vito-toni-costello
433 -ProloguePrologue433 -Prologue
“I asked him. He remembers nothing.” “Not even the gunshot?!” There was a hint of urgency in Barrett’s voice. “Nothing. We’ll need DNA samples to prove that he was there at all.” “Shit.” “Listen. I believe you. But the boss ain’t gonna accept no evidence. You find us proof that The Don was there, and we can get the mother-fucker. If not, we got no evidence, and we got no case.” “If we find evidence of his men being there, can we pass with that?” “If we find evidence of his men being there, we can bring his
by *vito-toni-costello
First ImpressionsThis is the cold stone that pumps my blood. These are the rigid lips of wood. These are the shoulders that never care. This is the love that isn't there. These are the legs that walk away. These are the hands that refuse to pray. This is the fist that breaks your nose. This is the back that refuses to pose. These are the teeth that continually grind. These are the eyes that I long to be blind. This is the pulse that refuses to race. This is the finger erect in your face. These are the eyes that narrow in rage. This is the interest you failed to engage. This isFirst Impressions
by *vito-toni-costello
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One Named PeterHole in the fabric of algebra, I gargle with pocket watches and scratch at democracy with pre-cut fingernails.One Named Peter
We gold plated your retirement, luxury gift box and all: a score from the student and another from the mother who thanked you so profusely.
A Classic novel or two and an armchair in Bulgaria didn't seem too much to ask for; if only we'd known the books were stamped and the chair was two hours to the left, decked in Nero and Tiberius.
by ~Thornless
difficult to tellbe my hero for me i can't save myself this time im drowning in a sea of bitter envy and jealousy to be everything im not wanting itdifficult to tell
something i can not
have i can't breathe suffocating on my own judgement the lies i fed to myself and
everyone around me i hoped that
some day
realization would hit me face first perfection ceasing
to matter it cant though unless you
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great pretenderbellyache rumbles; we catch a teargreat pretender
in your book and a word in your eye.
there's less acid on your tongue than in a bar of soap, broiling without conviction.
and we know why.
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LU - Where am I for New Years?Every year, I've always spent New Years Day with strangers; in the care home and with my foster parents. So taking the event into consideration, I wished with all my heart that something new would happen each year. I wished that my parents would think about me long enough to find me and take me home with them so we can celebrate a new beginning together. They never came and that new beginning was never to be.LU - Where am I for New Years?
Even when I was fostered, I knew it would never be the same as if it was with my real mother and father. So every year, I had to say 'hello' to it by myself, even if I was in a crowd of people. It felt lonely each time the
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The Final Tolling Bell
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                   A list of my favourite songs. As if anyone cares. Master Of Puppets - Metallica Revelations - Iron Maiden Sacrificed Sons - Dream Theater Obsessive Devotion - Epica Dead Skin Mask - Slayer Fountain Of Lamneth - Rush Vermillion - Slipknot M.I.A. - Avenged Sevenfold Wish You Were Here - Pink Floyd Great King Rat - Queen The Knife - Genesis Deliverance - Opeth Gates Of Babylon - Rainbow Child In Time - Deep Purple Fairies Wear Boots - Black Sabbath Kashmir - Led Zeppelin (We Are) The Roadcrew - Motorhead Buried Alive - Venom Citizen Erased - Muse Cemetery Gates - Pantera Tornado Of Souls - Megadeth Center Of The Universe - Kamelot Fly To The Rainbow - Scorpions Ever Dream - Nightwish Breakin The Law - Judas Priest Parents - Budgie Crossroads - Cream Wanted Dead Or Alive - Bon Jovi Surfing With The Alien - Joe Satriani Cliffs Of Dover - Eric Johnson All Along The Watchtower - Jimi Hendrix Paradise City - Guns N' Roses |
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Send one to all your friends who you think deserve a hug (which, hopefully includes the person who sent it to you)!!
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Look at the dead outside my window!
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Why do they run?
They all seem to have a mission.
Why do they cry themselves to sleep?
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